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My doctor nodded. “Good.”
Why was it good?
I was still contemplating that question when I got dressed to go out with Jerry. We were supposed to have dinner at a trendy place that had okay food. Yes, Max had made me a food snob. I’d already sort of been one, but he’d pushed me over the edge. It was very hard to find anything delicious when I’d been eating food that defined that word every day I’d been with him and knew the difference. And then back to his place. Where I supposed we would be having sex.
The idea did not fill me with joy. I wasn’t dreading it. I was sure I could get through the experience. I was consenting to it. But he wasn’t Max. Good-looking. Successful. Jerry just didn’t make my knees weak.
I threw on a black dress that would accentuate my dark locks and met him at the restaurant.
Every once in a while, I still startled myself when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The dark hair. The ink on my wrist, the butterfly I’d decided to get there. She meant rebirth to me. Even if everyone and their mother had a butterfly, I still loved it. The ring in my belly button that I supposed Jerry would see tonight.
That thought did not make me hot. I’d touched myself a lot when I’d first gotten it, picturing Max’s hand running over it, his tongue through the center.
Yep…I was obsessed. With a man who had told me a year ago that he didn’t and wouldn’t ever love me.
I need to visit this weekend, I texted Layla. Whenever I got too lonely, too much in my head about leaving him, I visited them. It was good to remember that people loved me. To hold Noah when he napped. To walk through their vines. They’d sent out their first commercial bottles earlier this year, and I guessed it was going well.
They were happy, and even though I’d been allergic to happy when I’d first gotten to Seattle, it felt comforting now. Like there might be a future where I was, if I could just stop obsessing about Max.
Jerry waited for me by the entrance. He bent over to kiss my cheek, and we chatted about work. My mind couldn’t stay on the conversation as I gave him answers to keep him talking so I wouldn’t have to speak.
The restaurant, which was also a bar, had televisions on where they usually showed sporting events. Tonight, however, it was the Food Network. Jerry excused himself to use the bathroom, and I shook my head. What was wrong with me? Women were looking for Jerrys everywhere. Good-looking. Successful. Patient. Kind. Fuck my stupid stuck heart.
A voice I’d thought to never hear again caught my attention, and I jolted in my seat, turning around to find where it was coming from. The television screens?
Yes, there was Max. He spoke with Baker Monroe, celebrity chef of the moment. His name was sort of fitting. He liked to laugh about that on late-night programs.
Why was he talking to Max? I jumped off my chair and darted to the bar. It was crazy, but it was like I was dying to see him, like I’d been denied an essential vitamin that I now had to binge.
“Turn it up,” I begged the bartender.
He shot me a look as he did it. “I guess you really like food.”
The man had no fucking idea.
“We’re so excited to have you join the Food Network family.” Baker grinned at him. “And before we check out your new digs, I’ve got to ask you because I’m being assaulted by questions about you on Twitter, are you single?”
My heart fell. First time I was seeing him—and he looked good, albeit slightly skinnier than he had been with me—and I was about to hear he was taken. I’d survive this. I would. Somehow.
“I’m not with anyone,” Max answered, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m taken.”
Baker scrunched up his face. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I met the love of my life and I lost her. I let her go because I was a big, stupid idiot. I’d use other words, but we’re on television. I don’t want you to have to edit it out.” Baker laughed, Max didn’t. “I let her go. And I…I continue to believe that someday, she’ll come back to me, that she’ll come back home.”
I swallowed. It had to be me, right? He had to be talking about me? Dizziness made my head spin. I could hardly breathe. Shallow, unsteady breaths were all I could manage. Unless he met someone else, and he let them go too?
“I think our audience just fell more in love with you, Max. Whoever you are out there, come home to him. He’s sorry.” Baker laughed again and then stepped backward. “So we’re here in Portland. You had a huge hit with Hyperion in New York and then unbelievably sold it and came back here to Maine. Just miss home?”
Max winced. “Couldn’t stay there. Hard to explain, but it seemed like all the heart left the city. So I came here, where I probably always should have been, to make this restaurant. I’ve been lucky because people have embraced it ever since.”
“They sure have. That’s why you’re our first guest onHometown Pride. We love when famous chefs bring their talent home, and so do our viewers.” This had to be a new show. I’d never heard of it. “Let’s take a look inside your place. The camera panned back. And there it was. The name of his new restaurant was Hope.
“Hey.” Jerry came out of the bathroom. “What’s going on?” He stared at the screen. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
No, I was. Or not something. Someone. And I was so tired of it.
I didn’t textmy sisters. Or Michael. I didn’t do anything after I left Jerry in the restaurant but sink into my couch and stare at my phone. That was how I stayed for almost twenty-four hours. I’d get up, eat, drink, and then go back to staring at my phone.
