An Optimist's Guide to Heartbreak (Heartsong #1)(69)

My breath hitches.

The cold of the snow melts by way of his warmth as he removes a loose strand of hair from my lip gloss. A shiver sneaks down my back. “I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him.

I’m glad I found my way back to you.

Cal swallows, his eyes skating over my face, holding on my mouth. He lifts a hand to cradle my neck, thumb skimming my jaw, and leans in.

I think he’s about to press his lips to mine—to take that kiss we’ve been strategically evading—but he thinks better of it.

He thinks better of it because he said he won’t love me.

Instead, with his hand curled around the side of my neck, he bends to place a kiss on my hairline. Soft and sweet. Cal lingers, dragging his lips an inch lower to brush a second kiss to my forehead. My eyes flutter closed, my heartbeats skidding erratically like bald tires in the snow. My breathing shallows. His chest is pressed to mine, his fingers twining through my hair. I want nothing more than to lift my chin and steal that kiss I shouldn’t take. He’d let me, I know he would. He’s waiting for me to make the first move, to let him know I’m willing to risk it all. I could kiss him beneath the stars, just like that first time, and I’d find my way into his bed by night’s end.

One night of bliss in exchange for a lifetime of heartbreak.

Somehow, it’s tempting.

Cal’s lips trail to my ear, his grip on my neck tightening. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

I expel a shaky breath. “About what?”

“Giving in. Letting me take you home, letting me sink into you.”

Involuntarily, my legs part wider, answering for me. I squeeze the front of his button-down, but I’m not sure if it’s a way to pull him closer or push him away. I’m always finding myself floundering in between the two, wondering which way I’ll inevitably fall.

All it takes is for me to think about Greg walking into that wine bar, sans Jessica.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t,” I say, my tone laced with despair. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes close through a nod. “Yeah.” Cal drinks in a deep breath before he rolls off of me, then sits up. “For the best.”

We remain idle for a moment, laughter from inside the house floating out through the thin walls, trespassing on our solitude. “We, um…should get back inside. I’m sure Mom has been spying through the drapes.” I try to add levity where there is none.

Dipping his head, he nods again. “Yep. The dogs probably finished off my banana bread.” Cal’s attempt also falls flat.

Avoiding eye contact, we both rise to our feet, and I glance down at our creations.

Two angels are pressed into the fallen snow, while I’m certain another watches from above.

The image pinches my chest and grips my heart. My gaze pans over to Cal who isn’t looking at the grass-tipped angel designs, but glancing up at the sky one last time. He falters before walking away and moving toward the front door, slipping inside.

I look back down at the snow angels.

Side by side; one big, one small, softly illuminated by starlight and the glow of the streetlamp. Cal’s has a smudge through it from where he rolled over for an almost-kiss.

I can’t help but smile.

He told me I made him sad in a good way, and I didn’t know what that meant. Now, I think I know. I think I get it.

Things that make us sad aren’t all bad.

Sometimes, sad things serve as a gentle reminder that we still feel.





Chapter 18





I chose red.

I’m draped in the most vibrant shade of ruby, from the stain on my lips to the “Vixen” nail polish on my fingertips. My dress is long and form-fitting, the neckline lower than I’m normally comfortable with, given my scar is on full display, and my hair is down and curled, set in place with a misting of hairspray.

The mirror is my friend tonight as I twist from side to side, fisting a cream-hued clutch at my hip.

“You’re an absolute smokeshow, bestie,” Alyssa calls from behind me, her voice muffled by the roar of the hair dryer. “I give it five hours.”

I blink, pivoting around from the hallway mirror to glance at her standing at my bathroom sink. “Five hours?”

The dryer shuts off. “Until your virginity has been voraciously claimed.”

A shiver rolls through me. I’m not sure how I feel about the word voraciously, or about losing my virginity to Cal for that matter, but I can’t help my skin from trying to match the shade of my dress. “You’re relentless,” I chuckle awkwardly.

“I know,” she quips, tugging down the hem of her black minidress. “Oh! Speaking of virginity, I was thinking we could all go out for drinks after the wedding. Maybe some karaoke.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Truthfully, I’m not feeling up for that tonight. I’m too nervous about the prospect of being Cal’s date for the evening, that all I can focus on is how I’m going to end the night with my virtue still intact.

And if that’s even what I want.

A knock at the front door has my dogs barking, their paws sliding across the floor as they race to the front of the house. My heart skips. We’re all riding together in my car since Alyssa is going stag and wants to take advantage of the open bar. I have no problem being the DD.