Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) (15 page)

“What’s going on?”

She went back to the to-go station to finish her work, and I followed. “I think it’s just the population boom around here. Crystal Brook made
Traveler’s Yearly
as one of the twenty cutest small towns in America. Did you see that?”

“No,” I admitted. “So that means all the yuppies are headed here?”

She smiled, but then quickly cleared her throat. “Watch it,” she whispered, sneaking a glance around the place. “That’s not exactly the nicest term to use anymore.”

I pressed my fingers against my lips. “Sorry. Was it ever nice?”

“So you going back to Mom and Dad’s now?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could hang out.”

She nodded and seemed to be relieved to be dragged away. “Cool. Give me like fifteen minutes so I can finish up here. What are you thinking?”

I sighed heavily. “I don’t know. Alcohol and then maybe some more alcohol. Plus, you in my company, of course. Other than that I haven’t mapped it out much.”

Gwen opened her mouth, about to say something but seemed to decide against it.

“No, I’m not okay,” I told her. “If that’s what you planned to ask.”

Guilt swept across her face. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. For being a burden.”

“Claire.” She sounded exactly like Mom.

“What?”

“Seriously. Shut up. You are not a burden. Now go sit down and wait for me. Read a book, but make sure you pick one from the Comedy part of the Entertainment shelf.”

Since all seats had filled up at that point, I went to the new releases table. The space used to be a brick alleyway which meant the section wasn’t much more than a tiny coffee table jammed with books. I flipped through all the new fiction ones, though, and killed time until Gwen was done.

“Where to?” she asked, pulling the ponytail holder from her locks as she joined me. She’d ditched the apron but she still smelled like coffee grounds, and there was a bit of what was likely whip cream on her jeans.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s, like, one good bar here. Maybe we should just go to the ABC store and get a bottle of rum to drink in the Food Lion parking lot.”

She looked at me oddly. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“Neither can I. Okay, scratch that plan. I don’t want to go to Pit Stop. Should we leave town?”

“There’s that new cocktail bar that just opened up.”

“Huh? Where?”

“Right down the block.”

“Wow… apparently I’ve missed everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

I self-consciously peered around us. I didn’t know if anyone within earshot knew Owen, but in such a small town you could never be too careful.

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let’s go.”

The new place was full of shiny, dark wood and low lighting. We took a seat at a high top for two by the window. The slightest bit of dusk had hit the town, but nighttime still wasn’t much more than a suggestion.

“So what were you saying about missing everything?” Gwen asked before even picking up the menu.

“Um…” I nervously fingered my own laminated list of drinks. “I don’t even know now.”

“Okay.”

Conversation closed, she got to studying the menu.

I pursed my lips and pretending to read the long list of tapas and beverages, but the letters all blurred together, just like the thoughts in my head.

Had I really been about to mention Owen? And why? It didn’t matter that he’d bought a house in Crystal Brook. It didn’t matter that he was there, fixing it up and planning to stay.

And I really did not need to be thinking about him, because every time I did my thoughts invariably turned to another someone, in another time and another place.

I couldn’t so much as think about a guy being cute without thinking of Peter, and that’s just the way it was. At least for the time being. My therapist had assured me that would change some day. Sadly, a big part of me didn’t want it to.

“I need a drink,” I announced, officially done thinking for the time being.

“I guess I’ll have one.”

I stared at her over the menu. “One? What, are you pregnant?”

Her lips drew into a thin line.

I gasped. “Oh my God. I was joking. Are you?”

“No, I’m not pregnant. Thank God. This would be the worst time ever for that.”

I nodded. “Everyone would think that’s the only reason you’re getting married.”

She scowled at me. “That’s not funny.”

“Dad could bring his shotgun.”

“Dad doesn’t have a shotgun. And I have to go back to work tonight, for your information. That’s why I can’t drink too much. The bean order isn’t coming in until after closing, and then I have to stock all the bags.”

“Why can’t you just stock them tomorrow?”

“Because I have to be at the house to meet the contractor,” she sighed.

“What for?”

“For the new sun room.”

“Oh.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve got too much going on.”

“It does seem like a bad time to renovate your house.”

She exhaled heavily. “Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking. We just wanted everything to be perfect for after the wedding, you know? We wanted to come home after the honeymoon to our dream house. Now it all just seems kind of stupid.” She stuck her bottom lip out a bit. “Okay. I definitely need two drinks.”

“It’s too bad Jason can’t be here more. It seems like you’re left to do a lot of this on your own.”

“Yeah,” she sullenly replied, turning and looking for a waitress.

A young woman came over and took our cocktail drinks plus an order for artichoke dip. After she left the two of us were quiet for a moment, looking out on the street at the Friday night traffic.

Gwen spoke first. “It’s not Jason’s fault. It’s not like he wants to leave me to deal with the house all on my own.”

“I know.”

“Okay, good.”

“I know better than anyone what his job is like. And I also know he would rather be here, with you, than busy working in any city. But don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t always be like this. You guys will get there some day.”

“Get where, exactly?”

“To…” I gestured in a very general direction. “Wherever the heck you plan on getting.”

“I just didn’t want you to think…”

“That there’s trouble in paradise?”

She looked sheepish. “Yeah.”

“You’re worried about what people think?”

“No. I just don’t want people to think I can’t handle things.”

“Let me correct that statement, okay? You can’t handle everything. No one can. And you pretty much just admitted it. So welcome to being human.”

“Mom and I ran into Owen the other day.”

I pointed at her. “Don’t change the subject. Especially not before I’ve gotten a full shot in me.”

“I’m not!”

I guffawed. “You could deny the sky was blue.”

“Ah.” She snapped her lips shut. I waited for more, but she didn’t say anything else.

“Hey,” I said gently, trying to make it as casual as I could. “What do you think of him?”

“I think he’s great. Too bad I’m engaged.” She flashed her engagement ring at me as if I needed a reminder.

“Really?”

She grinned wide. “No. I mean, yes, I think he’s great, but I happen to have a catch at home, so I’m pretty happy with my current arrangements. What do
you
think of him?”

I shrugged and looked down at a dent in the table’s wood. “He’s really nice.”

“I think… I think he likes you.”

When I turned my face back up, Gwen looked almost fearful.

“It’s all right,” I assured her. “You can say that.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. I thought I’d just made… well…”

“No. You didn’t make a mistake. It’s fine. Really. Actually, I…”

“What?”

Something caught in my throat, and I shook my head.
I like him too.
I couldn’t even say it. Because how was it possible? Peter was still such a part of my every day. Moving on was a long way off. Just the idea of crushing on another guy seemed crazy. And, yeah, I’d been torn between two guys before, but this situation was its own beast entirely… because I still held on to the one I couldn’t have.

“I haven’t seen him in two months,” I answered. “So anything could be different. That’s a long time.”

I sighed. Two months was how long I knew Peter. “If he ever liked me, he may find he doesn’t care for me anymore. We’ve hung out, like, three times. I’m not going to count that awful first day we met.”

“Hm.” Gwen played with her earring and looked out the window. “But what do you think of that idea?”

“Of a guy liking me?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I really don’t know.”

“Do you ever think about it?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Ummm, yeah, a bit. Actually, I’ve thought about him. Some.”

Gwen’s head cocked. “I would imagine so.”

I propped my elbows up on the table and let my head fall into my hands. The conversation was already exhausting me. “That’s not really what I wanted to hear.”

“What did you want to hear?”

I shrugged. “Damn, I don’t know. I guess I was hoping you’d tell me it was too soon for me to be thinking about men.”

Gwen didn’t say anything. The waitress had arrived again. We both kept silent as she set our drinks down in front of us.

“Is that what you think?” Gwen asked when we were alone again. “I mean, do you think it’s too soon for you to be thinking about other men?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed and straightened my shoulders, taking a sip of my lychee cocktail. “Objectively, yes, I’m sure it is.”

“Screw objectivity. We’re talking about you here, no one else. There is no stepping back and getting a new vantage point. You have to do whatever you need to do to feel good in life, Claire. You know?”

“I guess. God, you sound like me now. Since when are you taking pages from my book?”

“Since the day I was born. You want to be happy, right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t talk like that. Stop saying you guess. You know what’s true for yourself.”

I stared at her. “Seriously. When did you get so confident?”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

My fingernail tapped against the stem of the cocktail glass, pecking out a rhythm. “I don’t know if pursuing a guy will make me feel better. I think…” My lip started to quiver, and I stopped to take a deep breath. Hell would freeze over before I allowed myself to cry into a drink in public. “I think it might just end up making me feel worse.”

“Hm. I see. That makes sense.”

Gwen sipped her own drink, and we were quiet for a few more seconds.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you curious?”

“Because I can’t stand to be in my own head. So let me into yours.”

Gwen barked out a laugh, and I joined her.

“It’s true,” I insisted.

“I know. That’s why it’s funny. Sorry.”

I half chuckled and half dry sobbed. Gwen reached over and gave me a side hug. “I guess you could always try it out.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. Then don’t do anything. Just let things ride.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “When I met Jason, I wasn’t ready. At all. But you helped me a lot. That was kind of different though. You know, a different set of circumstances.”

I studied my sister’s face. It had taken her forever to get over her ex-boyfriend — the guy she’d been with before Jason. Not even fleeing New York and opening her shop in Crystal Brook had been enough to get her fully moving on. The same with meeting Jason. Gwen was right. When the man for her had walked into her life, she hadn’t exactly been standing there with open arms. They’d both had their own egos and ghosts to deal with. It had been a process. In the end, they’d come out on top.

“You guys are soul mates,” I pointed out. “I’m pretty sure I saw that before you two doofuses ever did.”

“Well, maybe your soul mate is out there, just waiting for you.”

The contents of my stomach curdled. I made a noise of acknowledgment.

Gwen picked up on my change in mood. “Or not,” she softly said.

My tongue was so heavy I could barely speak, but the words hurt so bad I was going to die if I didn’t get them out. “I thought Peter was my soul mate, and I still hope he was, in a way. Isn’t that crazy? It would probably be better if he wasn’t, because that means I could just move on. I could meet someone else and know that Peter and I wouldn’t have ended up together for the rest of our lives anyway.”

I looked back up at Gwen. She was holding back tears.

“Don’t cry,” I commanded her.

She sniffed. “All right.”

“There have been enough tears.” I took another drink of my cocktail.

“What if… what if people have more than one soul mate?”

I peered at her over the drink’s rim. “You don’t sound very convinced of that.”

She shrugged. “It’s just an idea. A lot of people believe in it. You never really believed in soul mates anyway, right?”

“No,” I answered, sharper than I’d intended. “Not until him.”

“Right,” she said in a small voice.

“Gwen. Honest to God, do not cry right now.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, her chin quivering.

“Then why do I feel like this conversation is harder on you than it is on me?”

She made a whimpering noise.

“Fine,” I said, just to appease her. “We could all have more than one soul mate. So what, then? What if you marry Jason and then meet another one of your soul mates next year?”

She sniffed. “I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

“But for you, it would be great.”

I shook my head. “There’s really no point in talking about this, seeing as we just don’t know how it all works.”

“You have to think about it.”

I drew my lips together. All the time. I thought about things like that all the time.

“Drink your fucking cocktail,” I told her. “We’re having a good time.”

I lifted my drink for a cheers, and she complied. Our glasses clinked together. Beyond them, and over Gwen’s shoulder, the door opened, and a familiar figure walked in. I froze, my butt glued to the seat.