Intercepted (Page 61)

And after I stop thinking of the wink, I realize he told me and the rest of the world that he was going home. He just reminded me home for him isn’t Denver, it’s Oyster Bay.

While he’s gone he sends a few texts, but they become shorter and more infrequent as time goes on. And my heart becomes hardened in a way I’m not sure I can ever recover from. The only good thing to come out of it is that the quality of my work at HERS goes way up. And I was already the shit, so I’m killing the game. To hell with modesty.

It isn’t until I’m walking to the train a month after he left that Gavin texts me he’s coming back to Denver and will see me later that night.

I wish I could say the giddy feeling I felt came flooding back, but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s the opposite. It pisses me off. It feels like a repeat of the last time he left. How does he know I’m not busy? Why, after everything we went through, is he still assuming I’ll drop everything and run to him?

I send him back a quick text telling him I’m busy and ask to meet the next evening after I get off at HERS. I don’t actually have plans, but that’s beside the point. It’s the principle, people!

“So, what are you going to say?” A barely showing, pregnant Naomi asks from the other end of the couch.

“I really have no idea. I have no idea where we are or where I want us to go.” I take a sip of the virgin strawberry daiquiris I made us. “Part of me wants to forgive him and to go back to where we were, but I don’t know if that’s possible. I’m still pissed. Maybe even more so since he flew to the other side of the country and is only now coming back over a month later.”

“I get that. It’s hard to forgive somebody when you know they’re sorry, it’s damn near impossible to do it when they show no signs of remorse.”

“Can I tell you something I haven’t said out loud yet?” I ask her.

“Of course.” She sets her glass and bag of tortilla chips down and gives me her full attention.

“I don’t even think I’m mad at him anymore. I think I’m mad at myself. Chris screwed me up in a way that takes longer than a month to heal from. When Gavin said I always compared him to Chris, he wasn’t wrong. I was offended at first because I was always thinking of how much better Gavin was, but looking back on it, I think I did it because I was waiting for Gavin to show me he was the same as Chris.” I look at the floor, unable to hold eye contact any longer. “I lied when I said I was ready for a relationship. Yes, it was messed up how Gavin went about things, but if I was a normal, not severely damaged person, we could’ve worked through it. I’m not ready to see him because I’ve finally accepted that I can’t be with anyone. Not until I’m content with myself.”

“Damn. That’s some deep shit,” Naomi whispers. “How many episodes of Oprah have you watched since he left?”

“All I watch is OWN, and I’m catching up on her book club list. She’s been my therapist,” I admit.

“I can tell.” She reaches for my hand and laces her fingers between mine. “As much as I want to tell you to just go back to him, I think you’re right. You need time to be you. I think Gavin is a great guy, but there’s a lot that comes with being with the NFL’s golden boy. If you don’t figure out who you are on your own, you’re going to fade to black again.”

“I see you watched that Iyanla too?”

“Girl, who are you kidding? Without her I’d be on Snapped. I love Dre, but there are days he drives me batshit crazy.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, sister.” I grab the fancy remote Gavin programmed to go with the TV and turn on OWN.

What better way to spend my Friday than not drinking and crying on the couch?

#WhoHaveIBecome

* * *

• • •

I GO INTO HERS early the next morning.

I’m obsessing over the new promo we’re working on, when there’s a knock at the door. It’s still early, almost ten o’clock, and HERS doesn’t open for another hour, so I’m taken aback when I hear the tapping on the glass.

I figure Brynn forgot her key again, because she always forgets, but when the front door comes into view, a man I’ve never seen before is standing there with a few boxes stacked up behind him.

“May I help you?” I ask the guy who looks like every other hipster strolling through the neighborhood.

“I’m looking for a Marlee Harper,” he says with zero enthusiasm whatsoever. “I have a delivery for her.”

“I’m Marlee Harper.” Without any further questions or proof of identification, he picks up one of the boxes behind him and asks to come in. I point him to my office in the back and make myself busy in the bar while he makes quick work of bringing the boxes in.

He walks out the front door and the only reason I know he’s done is because I watch him pull out his phone and make a call while heading down the street.

So much for customer service I guess.

I walk back into my office to finish my work and become temporarily paralyzed.

Every inch of my desk—and Brynn’s too—is covered in flowers. I don’t even need a card to know who they’re from. The flowers that have overwhelmed the office are the same flowers Gavin used to buy for me every Saturday—roses and peonies. My favorite.

I don’t realize I didn’t lock the door after hipster delivery guy left until I hear it open.

I don’t look behind me as I call to Brynn. “Wait until you see the office.”

“Do you like them? I figured I had a lot of Saturdays and apologies to make up for.” But when she answers, it’s not Brynn at all, it’s Gavin.

I guess I know who the guy called now.

I turn to him so fast, I almost lose my balance. Then, taking him in in all of his beautiful Gavin glory for the first time in over a month, I almost fall over again.

“What are you doing here?” I ask instead of thanking him for the flowers like a person with manners would do.

“I missed you. You said you were working today, so I figured I would start begging for forgiveness early.” His hands are in his pockets, and he looks nervous. I’m relieved to know I’m not alone in that feeling, but I feel guilty too. Because I know that he went through all of this trouble to get me flowers for nothing.

“Gavin, no. You don’t need to beg for forgiveness.”

“I do.” He starts walking toward me. “I messed up. I was so excited about my contract that I didn’t even think about what I expected you to walk away from without warning or time to think. Then I ran and didn’t come back. I fucked up.”

“Really, you don’t.” I look up to him as he comes into my space and struggle not to touch him. “We both messed up. You were right when I said I compared you to Chris. I overreacted, and I stole your happiness in one of the biggest moments of your life.”

“You didn’t. I missed you so much. This last month has been hell.” He takes one more step toward me in an effort to wrap his arms around me, but before he can, I step back.

The way the smile falls from his face and his eyebrows scrunch together is like a punch to the gut. I know what I’m going to say is the right thing, but at the moment, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

“Gavin, no.” I meant for the words to come out strong and powerful, but instead they’re a whisper. “I can’t.”