Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(68)

“My happiness,” I mused. Fresh tears fell as my heart galloped in my ribs. “I don’t know what makes me happy. I’m just a girl, a stupid, foolish girl with a silly list of meaningless things. I’m a skinny, sickly, naive child who couldn’t see what was right in front of her, and now, I’ve lost it. I’ve lost him.”

“Oh, Annie,” she whispered and pulled me into her.

I tucked myself into her chest and cried until my breath was even, and she held me, stroking my hair and letting me be.

“Just because something is obvious doesn’t mean it’s right or honest. Sometimes it’s how people hide things, behind shine and flash. Sometimes, that flash is meant to blind you.”

I pulled back to look at her, suspicious. “What do you mean?”

She seemed to choose her words very carefully. “Only that I’ve met both of them, and I find myself trusting one over the other.”

“And you deduced this in the few minutes you talked to them both?” And then I had a thought that set my mouth opening in surprise. “What did Greg tell you? At the bar?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Nothing specific, only that Will hurt someone he loves. Greg cares about you, Annie. But I’m not convinced Will does.”

“How could you possibly know that?” I asked as I climbed out of her bed.

“It only took those few minutes with Greg to know that he cares for you and that he wants to protect you. Would you say the same for Will? Would you say, right now, with him wanting you to leave your job that he’s trying to protect you or himself? Greg has done nothing but prove that he’s worthy of your trust. He’s been everything you want, even at the cost of his own happiness. Has Will?”

It was as close to a scolding that I’d maybe ever gotten from her, and I found myself speechless for a moment as I looked her over where she sat in her bed, her face angry and flushed.

“Annie, I know Will is handsome and charming. He says all the right things and makes all the right moves. But that doesn’t mean he’s right for you. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Maybe things could have been different,” I said with a shaky voice, “but they’re not. We’re exactly where we are, and the train only goes one way. So, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t know either one of them.” I turned for the door, whipping it open with a whoosh.

“No, but I know you, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late,” I said, slamming the door behind me.

I got dressed in a rush, swiping miserable, mad tears from my face, which was swollen and splotchy. But my irises were electric, sharp with the multitude of feelings they held.

The apartment hummed with activity as everyone got ready for their workdays, but I made no unnecessary chatter and avoided contact with Elle entirely. She stood quietly in the kitchen watching me, not with anger or blame, only understanding and forgiveness, which somehow upset me even more.

The car was silent as I rode across town to work, the sky heavy with low gray clouds ready to drop their payload. And once at work, I stood outside the locked store as the first raindrops fell like a sigh.

Greg stepped out from behind the bar, and with every footfall, my breath thinned. His hard jaw was tight and square, his brows heavy and the emotion in his midnight eyes locked down like a jail cell.

The door swung open.

I walked past him.

He said nothing.

I carried the weight of that moment as I hurried to the back and he moved back to the bar and whatever task he’d been occupied with. And I tried to tell myself it was fine, everything was fine, today would be fine.

As it turned out, my day was anything but fine.

My heart was in especially rare form, skipping and fluttering like moth wings, erratic and unsteady, which landed me on a stool behind the counter.

A particularly aggressive customer argued with me for a solid five minutes about the price of a book. Ruby finally intervened after the lady yelled, You dumb hick at me.

The bright spot was the Monte Cristo I ordered for lunch, but as I sat in the bar with Greg so close, I found I couldn’t eat.

His presence was a dark void in my periphery, sucking away all the light, all my will, all my composure.

What hurt worse than anything was the knowledge that he wasn’t angry; he was hurt, so hurt that he couldn’t even glance in my direction. He couldn’t bear my company, and I couldn’t blame him.

Greg had bared his heart, and I had given him nothing in return. I hadn’t said anything; I’d been too confused and shocked to answer him. Even now, I didn’t know how to answer him, not exactly.

What I did know was that Will wasn’t all I’d imagined him to be, and Greg was more than I could have possibly bargained for.

The day wore on in a never-ending grind mill of minuscule injuries to my heart, one after another. Even when I thought the day was finally over and went to check out, my drawer was short six dollars and forty-two cents.

Rose didn’t ask questions (past, Are you okay? To which I replied, Just a bad day). I started to cry a little, but she didn’t press me for more, just offered me a lollipop from Cam’s candy jar, which I took graciously. I paid the difference out of my pocket money, courtesy of Susan.

I kept my puffy, bloodshot eyes forward and my chin up as I walked past the bar. He watched me; I could feel the heat of his gaze and the pain it carried, as if he were whispering them in my ear. And through the doors I went, waiting in the cold for the driver. But the cold didn’t bother me. In truth, I barely felt it. I was already numb.