A Lover's Lament(54)

“Or maybe,” she says, pushing my hands off of her computer, “you need to stop worrying, stop thinking and just look. Maybe”—she opens her computer, which is still open to MySpace, and I cross my hands over the screen, shielding it from view—“the connection you feel toward Devin is strong, not because he’s an old friend but because he’s your lobster.” She waggles her eyebrows, a grin tipping the corner of her mouth.

“Oh good God, Maggie.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to strangle my best friend. She can’t do this. She can’t plant these crazy notions in my head. “He is not my lobster.”

“Really? Your eyes light up when you talk about him,” she says. “He’s been able to pull things out of you with letters—f*cking letters, Katie—that no one else could pull out of you. And just now when you were watching that news story, you nearly hyperventilated. Hell, I nearly hyperventilated just watching you.” She drops a gentle hand to my arm. “You two have a connection. I know you feel it because you’ve told me. And you’re right. It doesn’t matter what he looks like because that connection is there, and it’s real. But what if that connection has the potential to grow? What if that connection could blossom into so much more than friendship? What if you guys could not only get back what you lost, but gain so much more?”

Damn it. How does she always know the precise thing to say to get me to change my mind? Doesn’t she know I’m not ready for this? I mean, I’m not ready for this … right?

No, I know what I want and what I don’t want, and anything other than being friends with the only man to ever break my heart is something I definitely do not want. And if that’s the case, then seeing his picture won’t change anything.

But what if it does?

Shit.

Slowly, I drop my hands. Devin’s picture fills the screen, and every last image of the teenager-turned-man I had conjured up in my head falls to the wayside because the real him is so much more than I’d imagined. My heart races as my eyes roam over his profile picture, which was obviously taken at the beach.

His entire body is ripped, chiseled to perfection—much more so than the last time I saw him half naked. I can’t help but think that this is the type of body I read about in books. Board shorts sit low on hips. A thick, corded arm is slung over the shoulder of another man, equally as gorgeous in a rugged sort of way. As expected, Devin’s green eyes pop under thick dark lashes and pair perfectly with his straight nose and full lips, which are split into a breathtaking smile. He’s always had strong features, but they’re different now … more defined. And if that jawline isn’t enough to make any girl swoon, the single dimple in his left cheek—the one that I’ve always loved—would more than do the trick.

“Please tell me we can look at more pictures.” Maggie’s warm breath fans the side of my face, bringing me back to reality. I don’t even want to know how crazy the two of us would look to an outsider as we sit here drooling over a picture on a screen.

“Absolutely,” I say, nodding my head.

Maggie fist pumps the air. “Yes!” Clicking on the arrow, she slowly scrolls through pictures. There are several of Devin by himself, a few of him with some friends drinking beer and one of him with a girl. She’s a tall blonde with sparkling blue eyes. Her body is tucked in close to his, her left arm wrapped around his lower back. Devin’s arm is hooked around her neck in a kid-sister sort of way, but it does nothing to ease the tension in my stomach.

My mind drifts to my last email and the very important question that I asked him. Is this his girlfriend, or maybe his wife?

Suddenly, I want nothing more than to rush home and check my email. I know Maggie would let me use her computer, but my letters to and from Devin are just that … they’re mine.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I continue to take in the various photos when a thought pops into my head. “Maggie?”

“I know, I know.” She blows out a slow breath, her eyes glued to the screen. “You’re one lucky bitch.”

“What if I’m not ready for this?” Her head snaps toward me. “What if I’m making a huge mistake?” I ask. Her eyes bounce around my face, uncertainty swirling in the depths of her whiskey-colored eyes.

“But what if you’re not,” she breathes, her eyes imploring me to really consider what she’s saying. “What if this is a second chance? You’ve told me how much Devin meant to you and how crushed you were when he left. But what if it just wasn’t your time? What if the two of you needed to separate so that you could come back together, stronger and more solid?”

“What if I let him in and he leaves again?”

A slow smirk plays at the corner of Maggie’s mouth. “Then I’d rip his f*cking balls off.” I offer her a tremulous smile and she sobers up. “But I don’t think it’d come to that. You want to know why?”

I nod.

“I think that Devin is probably a fairly smart fella, which is why he’s been writing you. Now, I don’t know exactly what the letters say, but you did tell me that he’s apologized more than once. I’d bet just about anything that he realizes he made a big-ass mistake—a mistake that he won’t make again.”

I want to believe her—I really do—but there are too many ‘what ifs.’ Starting with, “What if I’m making a big-ass mistake by thinking he won’t hurt me again?”