Chapter Two
Flipping a hard right, I turn in to the drugstore parking lot. It’s closer to the vegetarian restaurant I’m suddenly craving. All that yoga and gratitude has left me wanting healthful food. I never would’ve guessed I’d like vegetarian fare as much as I do, but Lauren introduced me to it a year or so ago, and I’ve been hooked ever since. As I walk through the automatic doors of the drugstore, I contemplate whether I should order the veggie bowl with rice or the “chicken” bowl.
But first things first. Paper, then food. I glance up, trying to recall if the office supplies are to the left or right.
My jaw drops.
Brad.
He’s right there in aisle nine.
My body feels like it’s the center of a taffy pull—one side yanking me toward him, the other side tugging me back. But here’s my chance. This is what I wanted.
I take a breath.
Freaking out isn’t an option.
Because I’m staying. I’m doing this.
The makeup section is by the far right wall. He won’t go there. I slink to the blush and powder display, my eyes fixed on the checkout line, but there’s no sign of him. Good. It’ll take a minute to come up with the right words to tell him exactly what I think.
Red lights flash in my head. But what if he laughs? What if…
Ugh. This is ridiculous. Either I walk up to him, or I don’t. It’s really that simple.
The sensation of someone staring at me causes gooseflesh to spring across my arms, and I turn, my heart pumping furiously.
A man crosses his arms over his belly, and the buttons of his kelly-green vest strain against the girth of his stomach, causing it to ride up too high.
“Can I help you find something, miss?”
“No thanks. I’m just browsing,” I say breezily. On second thought, maybe I should’ve asked if he could hunt down my ex in aisle nine and demand he explain why he felt compelled to say I love you three days before dumping me.
A sample of pressed powder in light ivory sits on the shelf, and I pick it up. The pad in the compact looks like it’s been swiped across every makeup sample in the store. Do people really care so little about the spread of germs? It’s astounding. Shaking my head, I reach into my purse for a Kleenex. I dab at the powder and tissue some onto my skin. As I work on blotting the red away, I can’t help but wonder why Brad’s here. Perhaps he needs deodorant. Or maybe he’s out of toothpaste. I suppose he could be sick with strep throat. Maybe his throat will swell up so much he won’t be able to talk or eat. Or breathe.
I peer through the display. There he is! His back is to me, but I know it’s him.
“’Scuse me!” a woman’s voice trills. She reaches a hand past me to take a pressed powder, and I move. “You’re fine. I’ve got it,” she says, holding up the compact. “I get the same one every time.” She smiles and bounds down the aisle in her baby-blue sports bra and spandex pants. A tiny dog on a retractable leash scampers after her. Dear God. I thought it was illegal to bring anything but a service dog into a store.
Brad hasn’t moved. He has a box in hand and appears to be reading it. Should I go up to him? It’d be so easy to act surprised to see him here. I shove the dirty tissue into my bag, thinking.
Out of nowhere, the little dog darts down the center of the store. Stepping back, I watch as his retractable leash allows him to pull right up to Brad’s leg. Ha! Poor Brad. He hates yappy little dogs. I resume my position behind the display and watch, counting the seconds until I hear his voice demanding she get that hairy beast away.
But no.
He shoves the box onto the shelf and greets the girl with a broad grin. And then the man who hates small furry creatures kneels in his fancy work trousers and offers the dog his hand. What the hell?
Ms. Baby-Blue-Bra giggles, and now Brad’s laughing, too. How charming. Even though I can’t hear what he says, that deep baritone sound fills my mind like an annoying song that’s had too much radio play. He places both hands on the dog’s face and appears to be talking to it. When I invited him to a charity pet adoption event a friend of my mother’s was sponsoring, he said he was allergic to animals. He wouldn’t go. And now he’s practically french-kissing a strange girl’s Yorkie. I hope it bites him.
“He hates animals!” I whisper to myself. But it’s not like they’d hear me. They’re too busy fondling the Yorkie. It’s like some sick kind of foreplay. Brad stands, and they shake hands. She flips her hair, and he takes out his phone. Ugh. I can’t watch.
Stealing a glance in the mirror, I realize light ivory isn’t a good match for my skin tone. Now I look like a mime.
The man in the green vest suddenly appears at my side, puffed up and glaring. “You need to come with me.”
“Why?” My arms drop to my sides, and I steal a sideways look for Brad and the girl. She and her dog have vanished, and he’s halfway down the aisle, nearly out of sight.
“You can try on the samples, but you can’t take them. I saw you drop something into your bag. The old switcheroo.” He shakes his head, causing his jowls to jiggle like a bulldog’s. “We don’t allow shoplifters.”
I inch back, wanting to get as far away from his ridiculous allegations as possible. “Are you really accusing me of shoplifting? Because if you are, I’m going to slap a lawsuit on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
“For what?” His round eyes fill with alarm.
“Defamation of character. Harassment. Discrimination.” I say each word deliberately, tossing them at him so he can’t escape their punch.
“Okay, okay. I’m not accusing you of shoplifting. But what did you put in your purse?”
“My own tissue.” I hold up the crumpled Kleenex. “No one in their right mind would use the disgusting, germ-covered pad in the sample.”
“Well, you came in and started scanning the place. I’ve been trained to spot a potential shoplifter.”
“Great. But I’m not a shoplifter. I’m kind of in the middle of a serious situation at the moment.”
The clerk stares at me, almost daring me to explain.
“Oh, fine. My ex-boyfriend is here, and I was buying time before talking to him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”
“Well now, I’m not sure—”
“Look, there’s a woman with a dog in here. Why don’t you interrogate her? She’s hard to miss.” He squints at me as if to say, I’ve got my eye on you, but at least he stalks off—a vested superhero on a mission. I turn to the checkout. Brad’s there! Alone. And thanks to the annoying clerk, I have an unusually white face and no real plan. Nonetheless, I skulk over to the magazine display to the side of the checkout.
As I wipe my face with my free hand, I study the back of Brad’s head. What the hell am I going to say? I contemplate a second too long. The cashier hands him his bag, and he starts for the exit.
There’s nowhere for me to go. I’m smack in the center of his line of sight.
His eyes land on me, and I start to blotch again. Damn him.
I step forward, head held high. “Hi, Brad.”
“Hi. Wow, are you okay? You look really pale.” He inspects my face as though he finds it funny, not worrisome. He’s wearing the tie he wore on the night I met him, the one that’s covered with tiny foxes. I used to think it was cute, but now it only looks useful—like something I could choke him with.
“I’m fine. Perfect.”
He recoils as though he’s shocked I didn’t burst into tears and launch into a pathetic tale of the post-breakup downfall he surely assumes I had. Like I should be licking my wounds.
“That’s cool,” he says in a cocky voice. He shifts the white plastic bag to his other hand. I try not to stare, but the way he moved it suggests he wants to hide its contents, which of course makes me curious. I can just make out the small rectangular box through the bag. Cortaid? Crest? Oh. Control Gel. Big surprise. Hair gel. God forbid his hair falls out of place. And then I see the word climax in front of the word control. Oh my God. Climax Control Gel. My mime face clearly isn’t the most embarrassing thing in the store anymore.
But if he’s buying that gel, it means he’s already sleeping with someone. Or he had someone on the side all along. My stomach churns, and I press a hand to my mouth, forcing myself to swallow the sick thought. Unable to look him in the eye, I turn and see the stupid clerk watching me. He gives me a thumbs-up and a big grin. Great.
Brad follows my glance. “You know that guy?”
I shrug. “You know me. I make friends everywhere I go. Especially in summer. It’s such a great time to meet people.” I smile, showing all my teeth.
“Come on, Katie. Don’t do that.”
“What? Remind you that you wanted to be free for summer?”
“I’m sorry, okay? It was a shitty thing to say.” He sighs and shifts his feet. “Things were too heavy. You were all stressed about the bar exam and then stressed about losing your job because of the merger or whatever. All you cared about was work.”
“Well, even though you handled it like a jerk, I suppose I should thank you. We never would’ve worked. We’re too different.”
His jaw is so tight it looks like he could cut glass with it. “I’m not a—”
Without waiting for him to finish with his sorry excuses, I hold up a hand and saunter past him. Once outside, I finally exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It makes me feel lighter, like my lungs—my entire body for that matter—are free of all the negativity I was holding on to. I might have been holding my breath the entire time Brad and I were together. Now I can breathe easily.
Shoot.
I forgot the paper. With a sigh, I walk toward the restaurant. I’ll zip back for the paper after I get my food. Hopefully the man in the green vest will be finished with his shift for the night.
There’s a line at the restaurant, so I pull my phone from my purse and google the address for Janks and Lowe, typing it into my calendar while I wait. The person behind me clears his throat loudly. Geez. It’s not like I missed my opportunity to shuffle forward in the line, but even so, I take a small step.
“Katie?” he asks. It’s not a voice I recognize, and I turn. “Are you following me?” he asks with a lopsided grin, revealing his overlapping incisor.
“Oh! It’s you.” I press a hand to my chest and feel my heart thumping wildly. Well, it’s probably because I was expecting to see an impatient old man, not him. “You’re behind me, so technically, I should be asking you that question.”
“Fair enough. How was the yoga class?”
“It was better than I anticipated.” The intensity of his gaze unnerves me, and suddenly I’m aware that I’m unshowered and still wearing my workout clothes. “I wasn’t planning on coming here, but I needed printer paper from next door and left in a rush, hence the same clothing.”
“It’s cool.” He motions to my empty hands. “Where’s your paper?”
“Oh. That.” My body tingles under his gaze, and I wrap my arms around my center, creating a protective barrier. “I, uh, ran into my ex and forgot to buy it. So yeah. Successful trip.”
His eyes turn quizzical, like a doctor trying to understand my symptoms. “An I-still-like-you-ex, or the I-can’t-stand-the-sight-of-you-ex?”
“Definitely not the I-still-like-you-ex.” He raises a brow. “I mean, I did have feelings at one point. He epitomized the type of guy I like. But no. He’s…no.”
“You have a type?” A small smile hangs on his lips, and I can’t tell if he’s interested or amused.
“Well kind of, yeah. Don’t we all? I mean, it’s not like I plan it out, but I always seem to end up with preppy professionals.”
“Understood.” He nods at the cashier. “Looks like she’s ready for you.”
“Right. Thanks.” My voice comes out an octave too high, and I clear my throat as I turn to the woman at the counter. “May I have the teriyaki bowl please?” She has to ask twice if I want rice with it.
Ryan stands near me as we wait for our food. His magnetism wafts in the air, teasing me with its alluring tendrils. Licking my lips, I search for something interesting to say, but he beats me to it. “This place is awesome. I’m addicted to the spicy noodle bowl, and I’m not even a vegetarian.”
“Me neither, but I feel the same way. The teriyaki bowl is to die for.” They call my name, and I collect my bag, part disappointed and part relieved to have an escape. I’m certain he doesn’t mean to get me all jittery. But I kind of like that he does. “See you later.”
“You know it. Hopefully the boxing will be even better than the yoga.”
I flash a grin. “I’m not sure that’s a fair comparison.” I’ll let him wonder which one I think will prove to be the best.
His laughter follows me as I head out the door.