“And you’re ready now?” Alex leaned back in disbelief. “Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for you to act like a decent human on your time? What about what I need?”

  “Stop.” Lennon sucked in a sharp breath. “Please let me talk. I’m sorry about last night. That said, I do need to get to the bottom of some things.” She paused. “This is hard.” She pointed back and forth to the space between them. “You and I. It’s hard.”

  “Yeah, not everything can be perfect.” Alex’s voice was cold and too high.

  Lennon clasped her hands together. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

  “Yes, it does,” Alex cut her off. “It always has to be perfect with you. You overthink way too much if something doesn’t fit in your bubble. If we step outside of some unwritten rule, it’s too much or not enough, and I get it. Neither of us came from a perfect situation, and neither of us is perfect. But we can’t be.”

  “I’m not asking for perfection. That’s not what this is about.” Lennon frowned. “This is about the fact that this isn’t working.”

  Alex flinched, and Lennon briefly wished she could comfort her, but that would only muddle this whole situation even further. Tipping her chin up as if waiting to be hurt, Alex rotated her hand in the air, beckoning Lennon to finish.

  “You said some things. You meant those things.” She looked out to the water, then back to Alex. “And I can’t do it.”

  Alex’s knuckles whitened as she balled her hands into fists. Her lips formed a thin line, but she said nothing.

  “This was supposed to be fun and easy, no strings attached, and somehow it turned into this. It’s chaos. It’s hard, and it’s not what I signed up for. I think we both have shit to figure out.” She waited. Alex said nothing.

  “I care about you, but the timing is wrong. It doesn’t fit.” She was rambling, but with Alex’s silence, she didn’t know what else to do. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I feel like if we continue down this path, we’re just a ticking time bomb counting down toward destruction.” She swallowed hard. “I wish I met you three years from now, or you know, however long it takes to find the right time.”

  A tear slid down Alex’s cheek, and Lennon felt a lump form in her throat. Choking it back, she stood. She took one step toward Alex, and Alex’s hands flew up to fend her off.

  “Don’t you dare,” Alex hissed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Lennon’s words sounded flat, but she stepped back.

  “You already have,” Alex said, turning on a heel and striding away.

  Lennon took three steps in her direction, then stopped. Chasing after her would only prolong the inevitable and would create new opportunities for Lennon to hurt them both. Or for the relationship to vanish into thin air like her previous failed attempts at love. There was still so much she wanted to say, but it was done. A clean break would be best for both of them.

  Staring out at the waves, she watched them crash with renewed fury as if somehow even the universe felt the pain that was welling within her heart.

  As seagulls gathered nearby, she let their song drown out her thoughts and let the tears fall until she was certain she’d emptied the contents of her heart onto her towel.

  Grabbing her phone, she read Bernadette’s message.

  There’s no hard-and-fast rule. If she brings you joy and makes you feel alive, she’s probably worth it. Not true in all cases though.

  There she had it, just as jumbled as she thought. She didn’t want to get into the specifics over text, so she texted her aunt back, asking to meet for lunch.

  Within two hours, she was sitting across from Bernadette, trying to make small talk over an appetizer salad.

  With her salad fork hanging in midair, Lennon cast her eyes to her phone once more. No messages. Sighing, she set the fork down.

  “You haven’t actually touched your food,” Bernadette said gently. “You’ve picked up that same bite of salad about eight times.” When Lennon looked up and made eye contact across the table, she offered a sad laugh.

  “Sorry,” she said. She cleared her throat, bidding away the lump that had formed. She wadded her napkin in her hand and dropped it into her lap.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Bernadette asked, leaning closer. “I mean, I’m happy to just be here for emotional support, but if it’s just a body you wanted across from you, I’m sure Grant would have obliged.”

  Lennon picked up her salad fork again, this time making sure the bite landed in her mouth. As she chewed, she stared at her phone screen, willing it to light up. Something. Anything. Anything had to be better than silence. Not that she deserved it or would even know what to do if Alex texted.

  She stabbed another bite with her fork but set it down, shaking her head as her stomach churned. She nudged her phone to the side and turned her attention to Bernadette. She pushed down her fears. She looked into Bernadette’s eyes, the same deep blue as hers. She’d be met with no judgment, no harshness, just love.

  “There was someone, and now there’s not.” Her words were barely above a whisper as her voice filled with emotion.

  She blinked quickly, fending off the tears that threatened to fall once again.

  “I’m sorry.” Bernadette set her fork down and reached across the table, grasping Lennon’s hand.

  “It’s fine.” Lennon winced at the lie and looked away from the table. “Actually I don’t have to do that with you.” She took a drink of her water. “I’m not doing well with it.”

  “I gathered.” Bernadette slid her empty salad plate to the edge of the table, raising an eyebrow at Lennon’s still full plate and the untouched breadbasket in front of her. “Judging by the fact that you and I typically carb load like we’re competing in a marathon when we’re together and by the fact that we typically have normal conversations, I had a hunch.” She softened her smile. “But you’re right. You don’t have to lie or hide the truth from me. Lay it on me. Give me the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

  Lennon reached up to run her fingers through her hair. Searching for an adequate explanation, she dropped her hand to the table, where it landed on the handle of her fork, flipping the pronged side up in the air and catapulting spinach onto the adjacent table.

  She looked around, thankful to find the table unoccupied. Still, her face reddened. “Life’s been about like that,” she said as she turned back to face Bernadette.

  Bernadette gave Lennon a goofy grin. Rising from the table, she walked over and used her napkin to snag the rogue piece of spinach. Dropping it onto her empty salad plate, she smiled at Lennon. “Sometimes we can fix the mess,” she said, taking her seat again. Reaching across the table, she patted Lennon’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Lennon closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be this person, crying and spilling her guts over a woman when she’d sworn off love just months earlier. She sniffed and jutted out her chin, feigning the toughness she wished she felt inside. “I think I fell in love,” she admitted. She wished Bernadette would say something, but an ever-patient listener, her aunt waited. “And then I messed it up.”

  She pushed her salad plate away. “Honestly I don’t know if I messed it up, or if it was predestined for disaster from the beginning.” She put her hands in her lap. Shuffling her feet under the table, she wished she felt comfortable in her skin. “It wasn’t ever meant to be, and I think the hardest part is knowing that I let myself get tangled up enough in something only to get hurt when that’s the exact thing I swore I wouldn’t do.”

  “We can’t always protect our hearts.” Bernadette’s tone was soothing, and she propped her chin on her palm. “In fact, the best things in life have the chance of hurting us. If we avoided them, we wouldn’t really be living.”

  “The best things in life are the certainties,” Lennon said. Thankful to see their waiter nearby, she signaled to him. “I’m going to need a glass of your house cab.”

  “Make that two,” Bernadette added as he gathered their salad plates. “Solidarity,” she said, turning her attention to Lennon. When he was out of earshot, she leaned in closer. “Look, I can’t fix what happened, and you can’t change the past. I know you want things to be a certain way, but they can’t always be.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” Lennon growled, her irritation mounting. Leaning back in her chair, she took a deep breath. “Sorry.” She looked down in shame. “I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on you, but that’s the second time today I’ve been told that I need things to be a certain way or need things to be perfect.”

  “I’m not blaming you. I do it too. You and I have always been very similar. It’s that whole OCD and anxiety cocktail we’ve got running through our veins. There’s a roadmap that only we can see. It’s precise, it’s calculated, and we’re certain it’s our map to success, love, happiness, you name it. It’s the way. The only way.” Bernadette shook her head. “But it’s not, and if we stick to that rigidity, we lose out on so much.”

  “Thank goodness,” Lennon said as the waiter set down their wineglasses. Bernadette was supposed to offer insight and love, not a slew of tough-to-swallow pills. Downing a gulp of wine as if it were water in the desert, she turned her attention back to her aunt. “Speaking of love, how’s Mr. Dan Hayes?”

  Bernadette’s cheeks flushed crimson, and she raised an eyebrow. It looked for a moment as if she might not spill the beans. “They’re good.” She placed her palms on the table. “They’re perplexing enough that it makes me want to run away screaming half the time, and I’m not sure where we stand. But I’m having fun.”

  “That’s what matters,” Lennon said, feeling hypocritical as the words escaped her mouth. Her brow furrowed as she considered if there was a difference between her situation and Bernadette’s. It was one thing to not know where a relationship stood but to be having fun. It was another when it crossed the line, though. It was okay to run then, wasn’t it? Or was Bernadette right?

  By the time their entrée arrived, Lennon’s mind was churning as hard as her stomach, and she was no closer to figuring out what to feel.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The typical buzz of an airport—the quick-paced clicking of shoes against the floor, the hum of fluorescent lightbulbs overhead, and the rapid-fire pace of conversations buzzing about in a variety of tones and accents—swirled around Alex as she people watched. Lindsey and Connor had long since disappeared from view and she knew she should return to her car to avoid paying another five dollars for an extra half hour for parking, but she was glued to her spot.

  All around, she saw families, couples, and friends. Sure there were lone travelers, but for the most part, everyone seemed to have someone. There were warm embraces at the baggage claim to her right, and laughter filled the air somewhere behind her. What must it be like to have that sort of connection all the time, to have something steady?

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the bittersweet taste of togetherness and turned, leaving it all behind her. It wasn’t hers to enjoy, and it wasn’t right to impose upon the moments of others. Emptiness set into her heart as she pulled out of the parking garage. She reached down to turn up the radio, but her phone lit up instead.

  Smiling so her voice would be light, she hit the Answer button.

  “Hi, Patsy,” she said, greeting her favorite gallery owner.

  “Hi, hun!” Patsy’s voice filled the line with every ounce of enthusiasm Alex needed. For the first time in the last four days, a genuine smile passed over her lips. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

  “I did,” Alex lied. “What about you? Did your kids come into town?”

  “They did, and I ate too much. Had a great time spoiling those grandkids. Goodness me, they are a handful, though.” She cackled and coughed. “But anyway, darlin’, I wanted to talk to you about doing a full gallery takeover shortly after the beginning of the year—about six weeks. Would you be willing to do that?”

  “Wow,” Alex said, mentally tallying her work. “How many pieces do you need? I’m honored but I need to make sure I have the inventory.”

  “Six to seven for showcase, but you’d need to bring along a variety of smaller pieces if you have them.”

  “Any boundaries or censure?” She had more than enough of her pieces with her to make it worth Patsy’s time, although some were darker and some were more sexual than the usual beach tourism vibe.

  Patsy laughed heartily. “That’s what I like about you, Alex. You’re always pushing the boundary and making me think about things.” She made a clicking noise, as if she was considering her answer. “You can be edgy, sexy even. I’m not here to limit you. You know the deal. If I need to put an eighteen and up sign on the door, I will. It’ll be a night event, where we can put it all up. We’ll keep the exhibit up throughout the month, though, so if we need to have a separate section so as not to offend the average family on a holiday vacation, we’ll figure that out.”

  “Perfect.” Tears formed in Alex’s eyes. She’d always wanted a full gallery opening and exhibit dedicated just to her work, and here she was, living her dream. But at what cost did it have to come? Did she have to do it all alone? She looked out the window to the clear skies, working to remove the negative thoughts and simply enjoy the moment. “When should I stop by so we can go over the specifics?”

  “Come on by today if you’re free. And feel free to bring that pretty lady of yours if you’d like.”

  The words, while meant to be sweet, were like a punch to the gut. Alex hoped her reply sounded lighter to Patsy than it did to her. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  She thanked Patsy and hung up the phone. Making a quick stop at her house to use concealer on the bags that had formed under her eyes, she placed her hand over her heart, willing it to settle into a normal rhythm. She was sure Patsy would bring up Lennon again, and this was a professional visit. She was going to have to hold it together.

  Taking a quick trip through her makeshift office, she snapped photos of her best pieces and headed for the door. By the time she stepped inside the gallery, she had a renewed focus. This wasn’t about anyone but herself. This was her and the dream she’d held since she was a child.

  Beaming with pride, she made small talk with Patsy, scrolled through the photos, and selected the pieces she wanted for the show.

  “Do you have any questions?” Patsy asked as she made the final notes in her planner.

  “Not that I can think of.” Alex tapped her fingers on the counter, wracking her brain to see if there was any additional information she needed.

  “If anything comes up, you can call,” Patsy assured her. “In the meantime, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?”

  Patsy had been all business thus far, and Alex had escaped any personal inquiries. She thought about bowing out gracefully, but she hesitated. She needed people in her life, and Patsy was about the only one she had left that wasn’t connected somehow to Lennon.

  “I’d love that,” she said, hoping she hadn’t let enough time pass to make it sound awkward.

  Completely unfazed, Patsy nodded decisively. “I’ll put on the kettle.” She disappeared into the back of the shop, and Alex took the moment to settle into normalcy. Walking around the gallery, she stared at the pieces now on display. Some were complex, and some were simple, but she knew each piece meant something different to the one who created it. She ran her finger along the wall underneath a piece that spoke to the chaos within her. Its deep reds and blacks spoke of torment and passion, mingled as one. It was an emotion she knew all too well.

  “Always waiting for the peace to come,” she whispered. Relieved to hear Patsy return, she pushed the painting and her feelings to the back of her mind.

  “You look pale, dear,” Patsy commented, setting a teacup down in front of her. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

  They’d only had a handful of conversations over the months, usually whenever Alex came into the gallery to check on her work or to drop off more, but they’d struck up an unusual friendship.

  “There’s no use hiding it,” she said. “You remember Lennon?”

  “Of course.” Patsy took a seat. “Last time you were in here it was Lennon this and Lennon that. You went on and on about her.” Patsy leaned in and cocked an eyebrow. “There was a special light in your eyes when you mentioned her.”

  Alex winced. “No need to remind me of that,” she said, taking the mug in her hand. “It’s over. So I’ve just been a bit down.”

  “I see.” Patsy took a sip of her tea. “Drink up,” she directed, nodding in Alex’s direction. “The tea will warm up your tired soul a bit. Then go sort the rest out on the canvas. It’s the best therapy…well, that or screwing a stranger.”

  Alex’s laughter exploded like a volcanic eruption, uncontrollable and forceful. She walked over to where Patsy sat, put her teacup on the counter, and drew the older woman into a hug. “Thank you,” she said. Taking a step back, she stood taller. “I’m going to be okay. I just have to find my own way for once.”

  “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” Patsy gave her a reassuring pat. “Just be sure to take it with you.”

  Alex nodded. They finished up their tea in silence, and Alex thanked her again before heading for the car.

  As she left, she made up her mind. There was no need to dwell. Some things worked. Some things didn’t. She was going to take hold of her life and make decisions that were best for her and no one else.

  Back at the condo, she boxed up things Lennon had left behind. She gathered her perfume bottle from the bathroom, the pair of boxers she liked to sleep in when she stayed over, her favorite T-shirt, and a pair of running shoes. Opening her bedside drawer, she paused. She reached in and grabbed the strap-on. How was she supposed to go about returning a sex toy that had been inside her? She pressed her lips together and shook her head. It wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t going to keep around any mementos. She placed it in the box. Closing her eyes, she could see the visions of the passion they’d created together. Exhaling hard, she taped the box shut. Those were memories that she wasn’t ready to relive just yet—if ever. It would be best to put them out of her mind for now, and it was certainly best to have them out of her house.