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My heart swells at the fact that she has been feeling the exact same way that I have. The chemistry I’ve been feeling was never a one-sided thing, and as much as that’s a relief, it’s also the most mind-blowing feeling in the entire world.
I’ve never loved anyone before.
But I love Callie Walker, the weird, quirky writer from Arkansas. She’s the muse I always wanted—and I know exactly what I need to do to get her back.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Callie
“The usual, Callie?” Nate asks me as I walk up to the counter. “It’s good to see you here. It’s been too long.”
“Yeah, the usual will do,” I answer him, “and it was only a few weeks.”
“A few weeks too long.” His voice is giddy, and he’s clearly been having a chipper day here at the coffee shop in the middle of nowhere, Arkansas.
I, however, have not.
“It’s open mic night this evening,” he continues, while taking my debit card from my hand. “You always love open mic night.”
I never want to listen to music again.
“That’s great,” I say instead, taking my receipt and tossing it into the trash. “I can’t wait to see who’s playing tonight.”
Nate raises an eyebrow at me, but he only nods, before heading off to make my latte. I let out a sigh, wishing that I had bothered to read the sign hanging on the door. It’s been nearly two days since I left Texas, and Wade hasn’t called or texted. I know that Bailey and Emma told him about the letter and notebook I left behind.
Maybe he doesn’t feel the same.
I regret keeping the ring now that he hasn’t shown up. I spin it on my finger as I grab my latte and take a seat at my usual table in the back. I thought he’d take what I said as the joke I meant it to be—and get the gist that I wanted him to come and find me.
But apparently, it’s just a ring to him.
Maybe that’s all it should be to me, too.
I swallow the tinge of hurt that I’ve been battling since I left Texas. I’m heartbroken, though I’m too stubborn to let myself get to the place of eating my feelings. I just keep thinking that Wade is going to show up and proclaim his love for me...
Or at least come talk about what happened.
Maybe I should’ve just stayed. Ugh.
There’s no right or wrong answer, honestly—that’s the conclusion I’ve come to—well, that’s what my sister says, anyway. I think she’s just trying to make me feel better about laying my cards out on the table and then being ghosted about the entire thing.
“Welcome to open mic night,” Nate says, stepping up to the little coffee house stage toward the front of the establishment. “We’ve got a great line up for the night—and I’m sure there will be some great walk-ins, just like always. Anyway, enjoy.”
I smile at how silly Nate can be, and reach into my bag, pulling out my laptop to work on my book, hoping it will be a much needed distraction from the reality that ... I’m lovesick.
“Good evening,” a deep voice says into the microphone—and then the coffee shop erupts into startling applause, sending me nearly jumping right out of the booth.
What the...?
I whip my head toward the makeshift stage, my eyes locking with the man who takes my breath away.
No freaking way.
“The first time I came to this place,” he says into the microphone, his eyes still locked with mine. “I ran into this girl waiting to get her coffee, and we hit it off—like really hit it off.” The crowd laughs at his tone, and I catch myself smiling back at him. “Anyway, I convinced her to drive all the way to Texas with me, and somewhere along the way, I gave her a ring. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but y’all know how life happens—and anyway, this is a silly little song I wrote about it.”
My heart hammers as he begins to play a soft, picking progression on his guitar—one that I don’t recognize from any of the evenings that we spent playing together. I try to remember to breathe as I watch the angelic man meet my gaze as he leans into the mic, his lips parting.
I’ve heard a lot of fairy tales, love stories, and happily ever afters.
