When the sun comes up, I feel so weighted down, so awful, that it’s a miracle I haven’t slept. All I want to do is sleep, but I couldn’t. I walked away from Ryder after many long minutes in the silence of the lakeshore, the waves lapping at the sand. He must have noticed me leaving because he shifted, putting his hands in his pockets, but he didn’t turn around.

All the way back to the cottage my heart was pounding. With every step, I made another deal with myself. If he comes after me now, I’ll give in. If he comes after me now, I won’t move out of Lakewood. If he comes after me now, I’ll kiss him. If he comes after me now, I’ll throw myself into his arms and go home with him.

The disapproving Sharon-voice in my head thought this was ridiculous. If you want him, turn around and go get him. Just let it happen. You’re being foolish.

But I just couldn’t commit to it. I’m not being foolish. I’m protecting myself. I should have protected myself way earlier from Conrad, and I didn’t. Now I’m here.

I’m here, awake, looking out over the yard, looking at the sunrise over the lake, trying to make plans.

I text Cece.

Can I come stay at your place? I want to move out of here.

Some time goes by, I don’t know how long, and she answers.

You know you can stay here anytime...

What are the dots for.

I don’t think you should move out. Did you see Ryder?

Yes, and things are over. I can’t stay here. If I keep running into him, I might never leave.

There are other options...

Again with the dots.

I sigh and lean my head back against the recliner. I made a cup of coffee an hour ago and forgot to drink it. I need to get to a place where this kind of thing isn’t happening anymore. Maybe then I can get my career on track. Or start a new one. It doesn’t matter. 

With my eyes closed, my mind starts to wander, and it wanders right back to Ryder’s bedroom. His body over mine in the dark. His hands moving over my body like he was always meant to touch me. His lips on mine, possessive and sweet all at once, never mind the rules about not getting in too deep. The pleasure. Fuck me, the pleasure. How it swept over me like waves, pulled me under like the deepest current, and brought me back to shore so I could fall asleep in his arms. 

* * *

The harsh rapping on the outer screen door startles me awake, and I jerk upward with a snort. Very attractive. But the snort isn’t nearly as attractive as the stream of drool running down my cheek and onto the recliner.

More rapping. I’d say it was a loud knock, but it literally sounds like the rapping an old crone would do in a fairy tale. 

“I’m coming,” I call. Ugh. My mouth tastes horrible. I pick up the coffee from the side table and take a swig, then let it fall right back out of my mouth and into the mug. It’s ice cold and bitter. Terrible. “Hang on.”

It’s too bright for my taste, even though I’m not hungover or anything. I probably just look hungover. I’m still wearing the tank top and shorts I was wearing last night, and my hair has to be a mess. Well, whatever. This is my life now.

I pull open the inner door and blink out into the sunlight.

“This is pathetic,” says Cece. She stands just outside, a paper bag from the local grocery store in her arms. “Let me in.”

“What are you doing here?” It comes out as an even more pathetic grumble, but I step back and get out of her way.

“You’re late for work, for one thing.”

“Oh, shit.” My hands fly to my hair, and I spin around in place, looking frantically for something to wear to the Short Stack. Skipping shifts is not my thing. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Oh my God, stop. Your work clothes aren’t out here, for one thing, and Sharon agrees with me.”

“Wait. Agrees with you about what?” I finally stop moving and face Cece. “What time is it?”

“It’s ten thirty.” She cocks her head to the side. “You started texting me at four thirty this morning. Clearly, you had been up all night because the Valentine I know would not wake up that early for a six a.m. shift. Not even a little bit.”

I rub my eyes. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I brought cinnamon rolls.” She looks me up and down. “You’re going to go take a shower while I bake these.”

I give her a look. “You’re not my mother. And I’m not an invalid.”

“You’ve been moping for days, and you have weird circles under your eyes.”

“I’ve been up all night.”

“This is worse than when Conrad broke up with you.”

“He didn’t break up with me. We mutually—”

Cece holds up one hand. “Is this really worth going into? Go get in the shower.”

“Fine.”

I head into the bathroom and turn on the water. The moment I step in, I know that Cece was right. Going back to bed is only going to make this situation—whatever this situation is—worse somehow. Not that I know why I feel so heartbroken. We didn’t break up. We might have been on the verge of being together, but that’s not the same as a commitment. 

What does it matter?

The thought comes to me while I’m rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. What does it matter if we were exclusive or not? Ryder left his daughter with me in his time of need. And before that, he made me feel like a fucking queen in bed.

That makes my heart sink. It’s too late to be wondering this now, now that I’ve dismissed him in public and private and told him that it’s over, over, over. 

I get out of the shower and towel off, making at least a slight effort to put on some makeup. Then I put on my best jean shorts and a black tank top that will hopefully make it look like I’m not spiraling out of control over this not-breakup. Dressed, I head back out to the kitchen.

“Hey, Cece, I—” 

No. Something’s off. The house is too quiet.

“Cece?”

She’s not here. Her car’s not here.

There’s just a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and a note.

Don’t let the past get the best of you. Take him some baked goods and make up.

You know I’m right.

-Cece