Tomorrow at three is perfect.
I tell no one that I’m meeting with Ethan because it doesn’t need to be said. Mom would freak out and Brenna would barricade herself in my house and forbid me to leave. I made the mistake of telling them immediately after I found out the truth, and their shock and horror over who he really is reaffirmed my decision to run from him.
I needed that affirmation. The doubt that plagued me after everything happened left me so confused. I barely functioned, in a fog for days afterward. It took my overwhelming, nearly suffocating anger to put everything into crystal-clear focus.
There’s some regret in telling my family what happened between Ethan—Will—and me. They’ll hold this against him forever, not that I can blame them. But there’s telling your family things that are happening in your life in order to gain their comfort and sympathy, and then there’s telling your family too much.
I went the too much route and it was a mistake. But what’s done is done. There’s no turning back now.
Nerves eat at me as I make the drive and my mind races. Am I wearing the right thing? Do I look pretty? Do I want to look pretty?
Yes. I want him aware of me. I want him to feel that same dull ache in the pit of his stomach that I feel. I want him to hurt, knowing that I’m so close but he can’t have me.
But am I trying too hard? What do I say to him? What will I do when I first see him? Will I be able to face him, look into his eyes, find my voice and actually speak to him? Or will I want to run away? Worse, will I want to lash out and hurt him? Never physically—he could overpower me in an instant.
With words, though, I could hurt him. Say all those horrible things I know would tear him up inside. Do I want that? Is that what I truly seek in meeting with him right now?
The realization scares me.
It can never be the same between us. I know this. Yet despite my anger, I’m still sad that what happened is too large of an obstacle for us to overcome.
For me to overcome.
Somehow, I end up at the coffee shop. I hardly remember parking the car, walking along the street, and entering the warm, fragrant building, so many people inside buzzing with energy, chatting excitedly as they sip their coffee. I look around, my entire body quaking as my gaze searches for him, but he’s not there.
Disappointment makes my heart drop and I tell myself to shake it off. I’m early. Glancing at my phone, I see I’m here a whopping fifteen minutes before our planned meeting time, so I go back outside, the cool, salty air like a balm to my overheated, overstimulated body.
A park bench sits out in front of the building and I settle on it, my shoulders hunched against the cold, my head bowed so my chin dips into the soft infinity scarf around my neck. I wore black leggings and an oversized charcoal-gray sweater, my hair up in a bun, my scarf a bright red color that probably draws too much attention. Pearl earrings that my grandma gave me for my twelfth birthday, minimal makeup, black flats.
I didn’t want to stand out, so maybe the red scarf was a mistake? I look up and glance around, hoping to spot Ethan making his approach, but so far he’s nowhere in sight.
What if he doesn’t show?
Get a grip. You’re worrying over nothing.
Pulling my phone out of my tiny cross-body purse, I open it up. Check my email. Boring. Just endless sale messages. I’m not on Facebook, not on Instagram, not on anything. I check my text messages, though I don’t have any unread ones. I reread the chain of messages between Ethan and me, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I’m tempted to say something, but what?
I’m here!
Too eager.
Are you coming?
Way too anxious.
Where are you?
Too demanding.
Sighing, I shove my phone back into my purse and zip it closed. I’m being ridiculous. The more I wait, the more I want him to appear, whereas on the drive over, I had contemplated that his not showing would be a good thing.
Clearly I make no sense.
“Katherine?”
The familiar female voice causes me to jerk my head up, my eyes widening when I see who’s standing before me.
Lisa freaking Swanson.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe, glancing around, hoping like crazy Ethan doesn’t choose this particular moment to appear. If he does, we’re done for. Lisa will jump on this like a shark smelling blood in the water. She’ll grab hold and never let go until we’re both dead.
She sends me a look, one I can’t decipher. “I could ask you the same question.”
I gape at her. Is it really any of her business? “Having coffee.”
Lisa’s head dips, her gaze locked on my empty hands. “Hanging out first before you go get a cup?”
I say nothing. There’s no point in defending my actions. I’ll just scramble and trip over my words and look like a liar—exactly what I am.
“Interesting choice of location, too,” Lisa continues, looking left, then right. As if she’s trying to find someone. My throat goes tight and I press my lips together. “So close to the—scene of the crime. Are you trying to confront all of those inner demons, Katherine? This would make great TV, by the way.”
Irritation fills me. Fuels me. I rise to my feet, causing her to back up a step. I realize in that instant I’m taller than her—and I’m of average height, so this isn’t saying much. I look down at her, dredging up any scrap of strength I can find within me. “Do you consider every life moment TV-worthy?”
She tilts her head back, smiling up at me. “Yes. It’s what makes me so good at my job.”