Chapter 24

One week later

Kendra

It was truly over. That was all that I could think for the entire week after my trip to Atlantic City. Any dreams or fantasies that I had harbored about getting back with Grant were all but dead as the week dragged on. Every day that passed, I woke up thinking that maybe this would be the day that Grant called. Or the day that Grant came to the shop to see me. This would be the day that we patched it up and began to see each other again.

But every day came and went, and Grant was a ghost. I never saw a single hint of him. I knew he had been to the store, but he went on days when I wasn’t working. He actively avoided me, leading me to the inevitable conclusion that he was truly done with me.

I tried not to blame myself for it. I told myself that I had done the right thing. He was the one who acted like a child back in Atlantic City. He was the one who acted like I should be thanking him for being allowed in his presence. He was the one who said yes to a date with Loren, right in front of me, just to hurt me and make me jealous.

And yes, I was upset. Of course, I was. How could I not be? But I refused to let him see it. I was sick of giving him all the power. I was sick of feeling weak and needy all the time.

But now, nine days had gone by since I’d spoken to him, and I started to question my decision. I would find myself staring at my phone at work, willing myself not to call him. I would catch myself scrolling through inventory lists on the computer, trying to come up with an excuse to email him.

As much as I hated to admit it, I still wanted him. Grant was an asshole. I had no illusions about that. He treated me like shit whenever he felt like it. He had it in his mind that I couldn’t be trusted and that I needed to prove myself to him. He was everything that a lover and a boyfriend shouldn’t be. And yet, I wanted him more than anything.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I was just arriving home. A surprise greeted me at the door to my apartment building. It was Mr. Farnsworth, the apartment manager. He was in the lobby, and he waved me over the moment that he saw me.

“Kendra,” he said with a big, friendly smile. Mr. Farnsworth had to be in his seventies. I was pretty sure that he’d been working at the building since he was a teenager and just never left. He was very friendly and often moved me to the top of the list when something in my apartment broke down.

“How are you, Mr. Farnsworth?” I asked.

“As good as I can be and sometimes better,” he said, happily. “But I just wanted to let you know. Your boyfriend is here. He didn’t have a key so I let him into your apartment. Hope that’s all right?”

“Oh,” I said. He had to be talking about Grant. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would claim to be my boyfriend. “He’s up there now?”

“Yep. Been there for the better part of an hour. Thought you should know so he doesn’t scare the daylights out of you.”

“Right, thanks for the warning,” I said. He beamed at me as he hobbled away.

I made my way up to my apartment, and my mind raced. What was Grant doing here? Was he here to apologize to me? Had his week been as terrible as mine? Last time we went without speaking for this long a time, he came to work and apologized. Perhaps he was doing the same.

Reaching the front door, I felt my heart beating with excitement. What had been a terrible week was about to take a dramatic turn. I just knew it. Something told me in that moment that my life was about to become infinitely better.

“Hello,” I called out as I walked into my tiny apartment. There was really no need to call out, as I lived in a studio apartment and could literally see every inch of it from my doorway.

Mr. Farnsworth hadn’t been lying. He had, indeed, let someone into my apartment. But it wasn’t Grant. When I saw who it was, my heart dropped.

“Kendra,” Michael, my ex-boyfriend beamed as he rushed over to me. “It’s so good to see you. I’m sorry I broke in like this. I saw Mr. Farnsworth downstairs, and—”

“Yeah, he told me,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment as he pulled me into a hug. I returned it of course, offering him a peck on the cheek, too.

Michael and I had been broken up for a little over six months. We had started dating when I moved to New York three years ago, falling for each other almost straight away.

On the surface, Michael was everything that a boyfriend should have been. Physically, he was more than presentable. Standing well over six feet tall, he was an ex-football player and still carried himself with that same physical presence. He had a square jawline and a handsome face.

He also had a respectable career. He was a very successful accountant, pulling in well over six figures a year, not to mention bonuses. He was the kind of guy that I always knew would be able to provide for and care for me. But that was all surface level stuff. The reason that we broke up ran much deeper than that.

In short, Michael was a pussy. That might be a harsh description, but it was the truth. He just had no backbone and very little conviction. And he was terrified of confrontation and conflict. He was the kind of guy that would rather lose a fight or argument than risk hurting the other person’s feelings. He was the kind of guy that would pay extra on a bill by accident, and instead of correcting the mistake, he’d leave the extra cash behind and save himself the awkwardness. On paper, that all sounded fine, but in practice, it was boring.

There was never any fire between me and Michael. We got along great, and to the outside world, we looked like the perfect couple. We never fought, liked all the same things, and dated three straight years without issue. But it was that lack of fire, and ultimately passion that led to our breakup.

But now he stood in my apartment, and I had to wonder, what the hell was he doing here?

“I went by your old store and you weren’t there,” he said. I hadn’t been paying attention. I was too lost in thoughts of the past. “So I just decided to come here and wait instead.”

“Oh yeah. I got a new job. Well, not a new job. But a promotion. I’m at a different store now.”

“Really? That’s great!” He beamed, hugging me again. I didn’t return it this time, letting him pull me in. “What store is it?”

“It’s—that’s not really important. What are you doing here, Michael?” I didn’t see the need to explain my new job to him. I knew what would happen. He would make an off-hand judgmental comment. I would call him out on it, and then he would say sorry. Anything to avoid a fight. All the while, I would know that he was judging the hell out of me. I didn’t need that. Not from him.

“I’ve missed you, Kendra. The last six months, I’ve missed you like crazy. Like crazy. Tell me you’ve been the same?”

The truth was that I hadn’t missed him. Not one bit. Maybe the first few weeks after I had broken up with him, I questioned whether I had made the right choice, but that was normal. But after those few weeks, he quickly faded from my subconscious, and I moved on with my life. And then things between me and Grant started, and I never looked back.

“Of course, I missed you,” I lied, not wanting to hurt him anymore than I already had. “But that was months ago, Michael.

“So, you’ve moved on?” he asked, and I could see him becoming upset.

“Well...” I trailed off and shrugged.

“Wait. Before you answer. Have dinner with me tonight. I’ll show you that I’ve changed. I’ll do anything to show you that I’ve changed.” He grabbed me by the hands and gave them a squeeze. His eyes were pleading with me, and I could tell that he truly meant it. Or at least, I believed he did.

The honesty in his words and in his intentions made me pause. Michael was never about playing games. He was as straight up as they came. Back when we were together, I found that dull and predictable, but now, maybe that was exactly what I needed. Dull and predictable. After all, I didn’t break up with him out of hate or malice. He hadn’t cheated on me or done anything wrong. I just thought he wasn’t right for me, and that we didn’t have a future together. What if I was wrong?

“Okay,” I relented. “Dinner tonight, but,” I quickly cut in before he had a chance to say anything. “Only if we do it here. I’ll even cook.” I really didn’t feel like getting all dressed up and going out. And I knew Michael well enough to know that he would be fine with that.

“Perfect,” he beamed down at me. In that moment, that very small fraction of a moment, I swear that I felt a soft flutter in my heart. A small one, but one nonetheless.

--

Dinner that night was surprisingly enjoyable. I had actually forgotten just how well I got along with Michael. The moment we sat down to eat, we fell back into our old rhythm.

I cooked up a very basic spaghetti bolognaise for the two of us, and he ran out and bought some red wine. I was delighted when he asked me what brand I wanted, as if he actually cared about my opinion. I had to stop myself from smiling like it was some sort of big deal.

But maybe it was a big deal? When we sat down at the table, he made sure that I served myself first, and he even poured my wine for me. He asked me about my day and seemed to genuinely care. When I spoke, he listened. He didn’t try and assert himself over me, and he didn’t try and prove to me what a big man he was. He was the complete opposite to Grant in almost every way.

As such, I had to ask myself if that was a good thing. No doubt I had feelings for Grant, but what were they based on? If Grant was more like Michael, would I like him even more, or less? I had no idea. I had been with Michael for three years after all and fought with him less in those three years than the few weeks I had been with Grant. Maybe that was the sign of a good relationship? Maybe it was lust and not love that kept me pursuing Grant?

“Do you want any more wine?” Michael asked as the dinner neared an end.

“Oh, no. I’ve had more than enough. Any more and I won’t be able to stand.”

“Like that time at the Robinsons’?” He laughed. “Remember? It was their son’s tenth birthday and you chose to spend it guzzling wine—”

“I didn’t guzzle,” I snapped, unable to hide my smile. “I simply... got carried away.”

“Well, I still haven’t been invited back to their place since. They never forgave you for throwing up on their son at his own party.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that one, and Michael joined in. It was like old times. We had so much history together. It just made sense that we got along. It just made sense that we be together.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” I found myself asking without even realizing I was going to do it.

“Normally, I would,” he said, looking genuinely regretful. “But I have to get up insanely early tomorrow. Like stupid early.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling surprisingly hurt by his response.

“But how about we meet for lunch tomorrow? I can pick you up at work, and we can go somewhere.”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. “I’d like that.” And the funny thing was, it wasn’t a lie. It was simple, it was easy, and it was exactly what I needed.

No more games. No more bullshit. No more sleepless nights freaking out over a man who may or may not care about me. I could use a little stability in my life after the last few weeks of complete uncertainty. Sure, Michael was boring, and Grant was exciting, but exciting wasn’t always a good thing. Sometimes, exciting meant crying and heartbreak and betrayal.

As we finished up, I walked with Michael to my front door. And there, just as he was about to leave, he turned back and kissed me on the lips. I returned the kiss. It was our first kiss since we had broken up, and I could tell that he had been thinking of doing it for some time. At least, if the sudden bulge in his pants was anything to go by anyway.

Unfortunately for me, the kiss was nowhere near as alluring as it had been for Michael. Suddenly, I felt grateful that Michael hadn’t stayed over tonight. After he left, I found myself sitting in my kitchen, thinking of Grant again. I remembered how each time after we kissed, I’d be able to taste him for hours. How I’d be able to think of nothing more than when I got to kiss him again. There was a passion there that was unbridled and hotter than the sun.

With Michael though, it was so plain and unmoving. I felt nothing.

I had spent the date with Michael convincing myself that he was what I wanted. That he was better in every way than Grant. And for a moment there, I actually believed it. But all it took was one kiss to bring that house of cards tumbling down. All it took was one kiss, and again, I couldn’t get Grant out of my mind.