The Workaholic and the Realist (New Hampshire Bears #2) (15 page)

I love you Keaton Michael.

Grams

Chapter Nineteen

Harlow

It had been five days since I talked to Keaton. I’ve gone to his apartment several times, but he hasn’t answered the door. I continually sent him texts, but they were silly, nonsense stuff, hoping he would contact me back, but nothing.

I had one more thing up my sleeve, and if I didn’t hear back from him, I knew it would be the end. Tears stung my eyes thinking it was over.

I shouldn’t be overly shocked. We’d only been serious for a few days, or so it seemed. It didn’t matter what happened before. Well, that wasn’t true, because it did matter to me. I cared deeply about Keaton, and I’d told him he had the ability to break my heart.

And it was breaking.

“Harlow?”

I glanced up at Dacey. “Yes.”

“I’m going to head out, unless you need something else.”

“Have a good night.” I gave her a smile, trying to hide my sadness. She stared at me for a beat as if she wanted to say more. “Say it, Dacey.”

Her face got bright red, and she stepped up to my desk. “I’m…I’m worried about you.” Her tone was barely a whisper.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.” I tried to reassure her with a lie.

“You don’t look it.”

“Really?” I figured I at least looked passable for human.

“You have dark circles under your eyes. I don’t think you’ve eaten a lot. You’re not even very talkative.” She kept her head down the entire time as she spoke to me. “It’s like you’re heartbroken.”

You had to give the girl credit; she might have been quiet, but she was observant. “Thank you, Dacey, for caring; I promise you I’m fine.”

She knew it was a lie. Fine wouldn’t be the way to describe me right now. However, it warmed my heart to see she cared so much.

“If you need anything, let me know.” She had a tiny, sympathetic smile on her face as she left my office.

I got up from my desk and strolled into my bathroom. I inspected my face, and clearly see the dark bags under my eyes shined bright.

Looks like I need new cover-up.

I decided now wouldn’t be the best time to do it, but covering up my mirrors with sheet was a strong possibility. I’d ponder it later and went back to my desktop.

I flipped through my personal emails and remember the trip I’d planned for Keaton and me. The final confirmation and itinerary had come in. I couldn’t cancel now; it was all paid for. But I wouldn’t force him to go.

I forwarded his ticket information to him and wrote:

Keaton,

I want you to know I’m here for you, if you need me. Anyway, I purchased these tickets for us a few weeks ago because I wanted to surprise you.

Well, surprise!

Please don’t feel as if you’re obligated to go or pay me back if you don’t attend. I did it out of the goodness of my heart (shocking, right?). And I thought, at the time, a trip for us would be fun.

I hope you are well.

I’m thinking of you always.

Harlow

Girl’s night was exactly what I needed; thankfully, Maxima would have a lot of attention on her. I brought a bottle of wine, as did Meadow, because it would be needed.

When we arrived at Maxima’s, she had a buffet waiting for us on her kitchen table: Chinese, Mexican, fried chicken, subs, and everything else in between.

“Are you expecting more than us?” Meadow’s eyes were as wide as mine seeing all the items on the table.

“When I’m a wreck like this, all I do is eat,” she clarified for us.

“Well then you must be on the verge of a breakdown.” I sat the bottle of wine on the counter and watched Maxima pile her plate high with a variety of food.

Meadow poured all of us a glass of wine, and we sat at the table. Even though I was hungry and everything smelled delicious, my plate didn’t have half as much as Maxima’s. We waited until she finished her first plate of food before asking what happened.

“I met her.” She gulped down her wine.

“Her, who?” Meadow asked the same thing I was thinking.

“Remington’s daughter, Arabella.”

Meadow and I gasped. “I though you weren’t going to meet her until Spring Break?” I questioned.

“That was last week.” Maxima stared at me as if I’d grown a third eye. “You know it’s April, right?”

“I do now,” I joked, even though I hadn’t realized how much time had passed since Keaton and I started…everything.

“What happened? Did it go bad?” Meadow stopped eating, as did I, to focus on Maxima’s words.

“She’s beautiful, very smart, outgoing, and she’s perfect,” Maxima explained.

“Did you two get along?” That was the big question. If the kid hated her it would just make things harder.

“I took her out without Remington and we talked. A lot.”

“And…” I pushed for more information.

“We got along together. She reminded me of someone when we talked.”

“Who?” Meadow leaned in closer.

“Me.” Maxima’s eyes filled with tears. “She reminded me of me when I was her age.”

Meadow and I looked at each other. Neither of us knew of Maxima’s past or her family. She never spoke of it. We never asked either. No matter how much we wanted her to open up, she was hiding her past. We knew she’d gone to therapy about it, but nothing else.

”Do you know he calls her every single night? She’s attached to his hip when they are together. He reads to her, plays dolls with her, dotes on her, he…he’s amazing with her. I can see why he wants to save her.”

Meadow and I waited on the edge of our seats for her to tell us if she is going through with the engagement or not.

“I don’t know yet.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll say yes or not.” She filled her plate with food again. “I can see both sides of this and both sides only turn out bad.”

“How so?” I watched her shoveling rice into her mouth. She’d told the truth about eating when she was nervous.

“Either way, no matter what I chose, someone will get hurt. Me, Arabella, Remington. This will not end well.”

“But,” Meadow piped up and smiled. “It could end up great.”

Maxima actually rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Meadow, but this isn’t you and Kyson.”

“Do you love Remington?” I rushed out my question before she and Meadow argued, which really wouldn’t happen. At least, I didn’t think so.

“I like him. I’m not in love with him.”

“Could you fall in love?”

Maxima shrugged. “Guys like him don’t fall in love with girls like me.”

“What?” Meadow and I both exclaimed.

“Why would you say that? Any guy would be lucky to have you as their wife or girlfriend.” Meadow reached for her hand, which was buried in her oversized shirt.

“Come on.” Maxima took her free hand and refilled her wine. “Remington only asked me because I’m single and fat. I’m guaranteed to have no other prospects and have low self-esteem enough to do it.” She chugged her second glass of wine as we sat there in stunned silence.

It was obvious in her eyes that Maxima didn’t have the self-confidence of most other women. She wore her clothes too big, but I knew she constantly worked out and watched what she ate, except for tonight. I would never classify her as fat. Curvy, maybe. Pear shape, sure, but not fat. And if she was she didn’t deserve to look down on herself like that.

“He doesn’t like me,” she whispered. “He just picked me and that makes it harder to say
yes
.” She sniffed. “Could we please change the subject to something else now?”

“Well, I’m ninety-eight percent sure Keaton and I are no longer together.” This quickly changed the subject and turned their attention toward me.

“What?” They asked in shocked unison.

“What happened?” Meadow’s mouth hung open.

“I gave him space because his grandmother died, but now he’s stopped talking to me altogether.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Maxima’s eyes were wide. Somehow, I didn’t think they would be this shocked.

“Well, as of this morning, it has been seven days.”

“Seven days?” Maxima repeated.

“It’s not my first relationship to head south.” I played it off as no big deal.

“But this is Keaton Jaco. He’s your fairy tale.” Meadow seemed close to tears.

“My fairy tale is a vibrator that I don’t have to change batteries.” Maybe making a joke would make it easier on everyone.

“You’re dodging your feelings.” Meadow called me out.

My best quality was the fact I could easily compartmentalize life. It was the realist in me. Yes, I had feelings for Keaton. Yes, I had a lot of feelings for him, but now he was gone, and I had to move on. Simple. Easy. Doable.

“I’m not dodging. Well, not completely. I like Keaton a lot. This isn’t breaking news. However, I know when something is over, and whatever happened between us is now over.”

Maxima and Meadow both had the saddest frowns on their faces.

“Girls, please don’t go around worrying about me. I’m a big girl.”

“We know you are, but I really thought you’d found your happy ending.” Meadow sipped her wine, and I think it was to hold back her tears.

“Maybe the next guy will be
the one
.” I smiled my fake smile.

“Maybe it’ll be your vibrator.” Maxima spouted off making us all laugh.

When I made it home from Maxima’s, I took a hot shower and crawled into bed. I planned on reading, but my eyes kept landing on the ridiculous stuffed animal. Honey-Bunny was one of the silliest pet names, and I had no clue where Keaton even came up with it. The stuffed animal, along with the puck he’d given me sat on top of my dresser. I didn’t really own knick-knacks or such. I preferred my house de-cluttered. I got it from my mother; she didn’t like clutter either.

I opened my book and tried to focus on the pages and words, but it didn’t work.

I’m forty years old and a damn stuffed animal is distracting me.

I yanked the covers off me and went over to it. I picked it up, and the softness tickled my fingers. Meadow’s and Maxima’s words came over me. Maybe all these years I lived in a fog of not wanting anyone, when in reality I did want a man in my life. I definitely knew I didn’t want to be married or have kids. Hell, I didn’t have the patience for kids.

I thought about all the good times we’d had. Keaton made me laugh. He’d put up with my mouth, cussing, and independent ways. He’d listened to my stories and adventures, as I had his. We’d bonded and not just through sex, but our personalities as well.

A single tear slid down my face. I missed him. I missed his laugh, his smile, his touch. All of it.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Missing him quickly turned into anger. I sent him a long-winded message as fast as my fingers could type.

When I finished, I turned my phone off, put the bunny back on my dresser, and went to bed.