Dating Games(84)

“It’s not that,” I respond quickly. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I understand now.”

“Then what is it?”

I draw in a shaky breath. “How do you do what you do and not feel like you lose a piece of yourself every few months?”

“A piece of myself?”

My chin trembles and I struggle to speak through the lump in my throat. “How do you find the strength to walk away from someone you’ve grown to care for?” I choke out in a strained voice, one that evidences my frustration and sadness.

There’s a brief pause on the line before he speaks again. Everything about his words exude the compassion I surmise is why women are desperate for his companionship.

“Is this line of questioning coming from somewhere…personal?”

I exhale deeply as I swipe at my eyes, erasing my tears only for new ones to fall. “Let’s just say I find myself in a somewhat similar situation. Apart from the whole escort thing.” I laugh slightly and look down, surprised to see the strip of photos from Coney Island clutched in my hand. I can’t even remember grabbing them. My chest tightens and I swallow hard. “I agreed to help out a friend for the summer…”

“And now that summer’s ending, you’re having trouble walking away.”

My words caught in my throat, I nod. It doesn’t matter he can’t see me. He knows what I’m going through. This is why I reached out to him. I need his reassurance that I’ll get through this.

“Listen, Evie…” His tone softens, taking on a friendly, more familiar quality. Until this point, we’ve been fairly professional in our correspondence and discussions. This is the first time he’s called me Evie, despite my insistence he do so. It’s always been Miss Fitzgerald. “I never said I didn’t struggle with walking away.”

“Then how do you do it? How do you form this amazing connection with another person, one that makes you truly believe you’re soul mates, and still leave?”

“Because I remind myself I’m there to serve a purpose.”

Now his own voice trembles. It’s not as prominent, but it’s obvious his words are laced with emotion, proving he’s not this detached machine who has no trouble jumping between women. He truly does care about each one. The world needs more people like August Laurent.

“I’m there to give women the companionship they desperately need to put them on the track to what’s next. Perhaps that’s what you need to focus on. That whatever arrangement you had was just to get you to the next step in your life. It won’t be easy. You’ll find pieces of him in places you never expect, and it will knock the breath out of you. Like when a commercial you laughed over comes on the TV, especially all those pharmaceutical commercials where the side effects seem worse than the condition it’s meant to treat.”

I close my eyes, remembering doing the same thing with Julian just a few weeks ago. Now the tears that fall are no longer tears of sorrow but of joy, of comfort, my heart expanding.

“Or you hear a song on your playlist and remember dancing to it. Or you see a car that looks like his, only for your heart to deflate when it’s not. But I assure you, the memories will eventually stop being painful, and you’ll look back on this time with fondness instead of heartache. It won’t happen right away. But it will happen.”

“But—”

“My advice to you, since I’m assuming these are your last few days together?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t dwell on the future. Enjoy the present. Savor every last second you have together. Create more memories instead of lamenting on old ones. I promise these memories will carry you through the difficult road ahead, where you’ll question everything. Everyone comes into our lives for a reason, Evie. This…friend. Maybe he didn’t come into your life to be your soul mate. Or maybe he is your soul mate, but not in the way you think. Maybe he’s like Virgil guiding Dante through Hell and Purgatory, showing you who you are so you can start living.”

As I hang up and continue packing my things for the last time, I do everything to follow August’s advice. I try not to dwell on the idea of the sun setting on this magical summer, focusing instead on enjoying the little time I have left with Julian. Maybe he came into my life to help me realize I deserved so much more than what Trevor gave me. That I deserve to be with someone who supports my dreams, regardless of how ambitious and out of reach they may seem. Julian gave that to me. For that, I’ll forever be grateful. The notion keeps the tears at bay.

Until the buzzer sounds and I step out of the building to see Julian standing on the front stoop, the car I’ve nicknamed Thursday, the Jaguar, idling by the curb. He looks as beautiful and captivating as when I first saw him from across a bar during what I thought to be the worst night of my life. But now that I know his inner beauty matches that on the outside, he appears even more beautiful, more captivating. It forces the ache to return, tears sliding down my cheeks.

Julian’s quick to pull me into his chest, holding me tightly as my tears soak his white linen shirt. His arms comfort me at the same time they remind me this will be the last time they’ll be here to do so.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, his own voice showing signs of strain. “This was always how it was going to end. Nothing will change that. You deserve more than I can give you, Guinevere.”