or seeing her on Christmas. I can’t imagine not spending her birthday with her next year or not having her at my side at the next party I have to attend.
I love her. I’m fucking in love with her. That’s what this ridiculousness is.
Well, hell.
What do I do now?
I consider going to find Jake but nix it just as quickly. I almost call Natalie, but that crosses a line I’m not ready to broach. My fingertips stroke the top of my desk as I realize the only other person I have is my dad . . . and Meredith.
Fuck it. I grab my phone and dial her number.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hey, Meredith. It’s Trevor.”
“Well, hello,” she says. “Is everything all right?”
“No. I mean, yes. But no.”
“Okay . . .” She laughs. “I’m not following you. Are you looking for your dad? He’s golfing this afternoon.”
I shake my head. “No, actually. I called to talk to you. I need some advice.”
“Is this about Haley? Because if it’s about anything other than love, fashion, or flowers, I’m probably not your girl.”
“It’s about Haley.”
“Go on . . .”
CHAPTER THIRTY
HALEY
The morning is bright. Too bright. Everything is too bright these days.
I take my sunglasses off as I walk into the café.
“Hey,” Claire says. “Look at you, up bright and early again.”
“I have to work in a few minutes.” I climb onto a stool, then promptly scoot over one to the right. “It’s . . . wet.”
“Sure.” Claire holds up a finger and disappears into the kitchen. She comes back with a cinnamon roll on a doughnut plate. “Here. I swiped this one for you earlier. The fire department ordered a couple of dozen, so the kitchen made a special batch. They got two dozen minus one.”
“Thanks, Claire Bear.”
“Anything for you, Love Pie.”
I should eat it. Especially considering all the trouble Claire went to in order to get it for me. But my stomach feels full despite not eating much of anything these last couple of days.
The two empty seats, the ones Trevor and I sat in the day he came in for a doughnut, haunt me. It sucks, but it’ll get easier. Maybe one day I will even be able to look at them fondly.
That day isn’t today. Today, I can almost hear our laughter. See his smile. Smell his woodsy cologne.
“Haley?”
I whip around, even though I know he’s not there, to find him there.
My body leans his way, my heart stuttering in my chest. So many emotions run through me because he’s not just the balm to my wound—he is the cause of the wound.
There are bags under his eyes. His usually perfectly styled hair is shoved under a baseball hat. The lines around his mouth are sagging.
Damn it.
Tears well up in my eyes as I deny my body the contact it relishes. I spin back around and face the fork on the wall.
He sits beside me. “There’s enough room for two Jesuses here.”
I don’t want to smile, but I do. Sort of. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you.”
“Hey, Claire,” I say. She looks at me from the kitchen. She’s standing off to the side where Trevor can’t see her. She holds up a knife in one hand and her other hand, palm up. I roll my eyes. “I need my check.”
“Does that mean we’re going outside to talk?” he asks carefully.
“That means I’m leaving. You can do whatever you want.”
“Haley, don’t be like this.”
I summon every ounce of grace I can find. Digging deep, blocking out the fracture in my chest from crying so hard when I fell asleep last night that I couldn’t breathe, I look at him.
And wish I hadn’t.
His eyes are clear, open for me to see the emotions swirling around in them. I blink faster, scooting the unshed tears away from the brink of falling. But I can’t look away.
He holds my gaze like only he can, pleading with me without any words. It reminds me of what Jen said about couples who make it and how they can communicate in the quiet moments.
I’ll have to tell her she’s wrong.
“Your bill is covered,” Claire says, stopping in front of me.
“By who?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Her gaze flips cold as she looks at Trevor. “Do you want something more than to torture my best friend?”
“Claire . . .” His shoulders fall. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t tell me, fuckhead. Tell her.”
He shrugs. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”
“I want to hear it less.” She narrows her eyes as she walks away, leaving