Before Jamaica Lane (On Dublin Street, #3)(78)

I couldn’t go on a date.

I just couldn’t.

‘Yes,’ I answered, nodding and smiling as he pulled out his phone so I could recite my number to him.

A smaller version of myself slapped me upside the head. What is the matter with you? she yelled, but I ignored her, gazing up into Ben’s face and praying that in time the butterflies I used to feel for him would come back.

22

Musical therapy did not work.

Like I didn’t know that was coming.

I blamed it all on my apartment.

After work on Monday I opened the door to my place and just stood there, gazing around the room. Every part of it reminded me of him. The couch where we’d hung out for hours over the last year. We’d had really great sex – God, no, out-of-body-experience sex on it too. More than once. More than a handful of times actually. Then there was the kitchen, where we’d eaten dinner and chatted. And yes … we’d christened the counter. The wall by the door. The wall by the window. The shower. My bedroom.

It was all him. Everywhere.

I ached. I ached so much that even my gums and teeth ached for want of him. I kicked my door shut and slumped against it. The only hope was that this feeling would pass. Eventually I had to start functioning like a normal human being again. Right?

Either that or I needed to start looking for a new apartment. Yet the thought of leaving the place where all my memories of him were …

I needed to see him.

I pulled my phone out of my bag with trembling hands and held it up, my thumb brushing over the screen. I’d deliberately avoided doing this since the breakup.

My breath left me as I opened the picture gallery on my cell and started flicking through it. The last picture I’d taken of Nate was him smiling as he drove the rental toward his parents’ house before things got weird that day. The next was of us both. Nate was giving the camera this sexy, low-lidded smirk as I held it over us while we were lying in bed. My head rested on his shoulder as I smiled happily. The next one was worse because we were kissing in it.

It was like a knife in my gut.

I quickly flicked past it.

There was another shot of him with his head buried in the pillow, hiding from me. And then there were plenty of me, because if you put a camera in Nate’s vicinity he was sure to overuse it.

Rage rushed through me.

My cell went sailing across the room and smashed against the far wall. I slid down the door, drawing my knees to my chest as I cried away all my efforts to move on.

‘So are you going out with him?’ Ellie asked me casually as we congregated in Hannah’s bedroom.

The week had passed as though it had been taken over by the spirit of a slug. A particularly slimy one that secreted mucus all over the goddamn place.

It wasn’t a good week.

After smashing my phone, I quickly found a replacement. I kept my old number with all my data … hoping what? That Nate might call? Ha. Nate still did not call.

Ben did, though. He called on Tuesday night to tell me he had a hectic week ahead of him but he wanted to know if I was free for dinner next Monday. I said yes, because frankly I was hoping for some kind of miracle that would bring back my enthusiasm and zest for life. If a tall, handsome Scotsman couldn’t do that, then I was seriously f*cked.

Finally it was Sunday again and this time I’d mustered up the courage to face my friends – including the guys, who I now assumed knew everything that had happened between me and Nate – and join them for lunch. As had become routine the last few times, we disappeared into Hannah’s room while Elodie and Clark cooked and the guys talked.

I’d just told them about Ben’s call.

‘Yes. I said yes.’

‘I think that’s great,’ Joss said. ‘I think it’ll help.’

‘Yeah, so enough about me.’ I directed the conversation elsewhere by pinning a lounging Hannah to the bed with my eyes. ‘How’s Marco?’

I don’t think I’m mistaken when I say I thought I heard her growl.

I looked at Ellie for help. ‘I take that as a negative?’

Ellie patted her sister’s leg. ‘He’s playing hard to get.’

‘He’s not playing hard to get. He just doesn’t want to be gotten,’ Hannah muttered. ‘No, he wants to be gotten. He just doesn’t.’

‘Did that make sense to anyone else?’ Jo scrunched up her nose in confusion.

Hannah’s eyes swept us all. ‘There are moments when I think he wants more, but he pulls away anytime I make a move. At this rate I’ll be in my forties before I lose my virginity.’

Ellie snorted. ‘I doubt it.’

‘I’m not losing it to anyone but him,’ Hannah answered rigidly, absolutely serious.

Her sister took in her demeanor and her eyes narrowed. ‘You will wait until you’re at least eighteen.’

Hannah made a pfft sound. ‘Okay, I’m sure you waited that long.’

‘I did, actually.’

Seeming surprised, Hannah asked, ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. It was the night of my eighteenth birthday party.’

‘With Liam?’

‘Who’s Liam?’ I asked curiously.

‘My boyfriend at the time. We had been dating for a few weeks. I thought he’d help me get over Adam.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I hadn’t planned to have sex with him that night, even though I knew he was pushing for it. No, I found Adam out the back of the hotel with one of the catering girls. I was so hurt I went back inside, grabbed Liam’s hand, left the party, and we got a room. I thought it would help. It didn’t. I mean, it was okay.’ Ellie shrugged, her mouth turning down at the corners. ‘But it wasn’t what it should have been. It should have been with someone I loved. Someone I trusted. Liam ended up cheating on me with one of my so-called best friends.’