The Other Side of Someday (27 page)

He moved toward me and we shared a kiss that was more passionate than I was anticipating. My body grew rigid and I knew I should push him away, tell him I couldn’t see him anymore, but his lips on mine felt so good. I had missed this connection during the years of my marriage so much, all sense of what was right disappeared and I lost myself in his arms. I think I may have even moaned a little. Still, all I could think about during that amazing exchange was Sebby. I wondered if he was on the other side of his door, witnessing our kiss. I hated the thought. So instead of inviting Owen in, I thanked him for a wonderful evening and left him in the hallway. I could feel his confusion from beyond my closed door.

This morning, I put more effort than I typically did into making myself look presentable. Instead of simply throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a jacket, I dressed in jeans and a sweater. I even went so far as to add a hint of blush and eyeshadow. When declaring your love to a man who was otherwise attached, one should at least look presentable, right?

“Well, this is it, buddy,” I said to Sport as I checked my reflection one final time in the full-length mirror. “There’s no turning back after I cross this bridge. It’s sink or swim, pal.”

Familiar with our routine, Sport ran around in circles, knowing we were about to go for his morning walk. I hooked him up to his leash and left my condo, heading to the same bench that had been the scene of so many wonderful memories. Strolling through the park, the sky a dim gray, I tried to imagine what Sebby’s response would be. I pictured him smiling wide, sweeping me into his arms, and making some joke about it taking me long enough to finally see what had been in front of me for months.

But what if I was reading it wrong? What if I was just imagining his jealous reaction whenever I had a date with another guy? What if he really had no interest in me, other than as friends? Now that I had talked myself into finally admitting my true feelings, I didn’t know if I could handle the rejection.

Slowing my steps, I wondered whether I should follow through. There was a risk he would turn me down. I was starting to think I had imagined it all in my head. I stared at the ocean, hoping to draw strength from the powerful waves. Then there was an unexpected tug on Sport’s leash, much like that day all those months ago. I lost control of his leash and darted after him toward our bench, only to come to an abrupt stop when it sat empty. Sport didn’t know what to make of it, either. In all the weeks I had been meeting Sebby at this spot, he had always been waiting for me, apart from the few times he was out of town. Maybe he was just running late.

Lowering myself to the bench, I tugged my jacket closer, a strong offshore breeze blowing. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and there was a cold dampness in the air that chilled me to my core.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

After twenty, Sebby still hadn’t shown up. I grabbed my cell phone and sent him a quick text.

Everything okay? I’m at the park. Sport is missing Gidget
.

I kept my phone in my hands, bouncing my legs as I waited for a reply. For the first time since we met, one didn’t come right away. I waited longer, only to be left waiting. When the wind grew stronger, I couldn’t take the cold anymore. I got up from the bench and headed back to my condo. I kept an eye out for Sebby and Gidget. Every time I heard a dog bark, I snapped my head in that direction, only to be disappointed.

With slumped shoulders, I walked into my building, brushing off Jeffrey’s attempts at making small talk. Sebby’s mysterious absence and lack of communication made me uneasy. I tried to think of something else, like my uncle’s arrival later in the day, but that didn’t help. My mind was elsewhere.

As I stepped out of the elevator and rounded the corner to my condo, I was caught by surprise when I heard Sebby’s door open. Pausing momentarily, I found myself speechless when he emerged with a stunning blonde. I had put in the effort to make my appearance presentable this morning, thinking I did an adequate job, but I couldn’t hold a candle to the woman staring back at me. Her hair was straight, not one strand out of place. She was thin and tall, her legs seeming to go on for miles. She wore black knee-high boots pulled over skinny jeans, and an oversized tunic sweater. Her smile was charismatic and my heart sink. I knew all too well who this woman was. There was no way I could compete with the picture of perfection leaving Sebby’s condo.

I was amazed he even noticed I was standing in the hallway opposite him, but he did, stopping abruptly. “Baylee.” A nervous expression grew on his face. Sport lunged for them, his tail wagging excitedly, and I had to reel in his leash to stop him from jumping on Sebby, especially when I saw the look of disgust on his blonde companion’s face.

“Good morning,” I responded curtly, turning to unlock my door. I tried to hide how unsettled I was. Seeing his girlfriend in person made her real. Just an hour ago, I was ready to beg him to leave her for me, but I couldn’t do that, not anymore.

“This is Mercedes,” he said.

Turning, I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Mercedes…” I held my hand out to her and we shook cordially. “I’ve heard so much about you. What brings you to town?”

“Well, I heard this one was planning on staying here for Thanksgiving and I couldn’t stand him being alone during the holidays.” She squeezed his arm, a beautiful smile crossing her face. She wasn’t what I had expected at all. The picture Sebby had painted of her was completely different than the woman standing in front of me, her eyes alight whenever she met Sebby’s gaze.

“Well, that’s not the only reason.” Sebby shifted his feet. “She’s opening a new gallery in Beverly Hills and needed to come out here to approve the space.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll both be seeing much more of each other,” I said cheerily, trying to mask my true feelings.

“Perhaps. Or he can just finally move back to the East Coast like I’ve been trying to get him to do for years. New York is great for his line of work. Plus, he’d be so close to his family. It’s a win-win, don’t you think?”

“Sure sounds like it,” I replied solemnly. “Well, I don’t want to keep you two from wherever you were headed. It was lovely to meet you, Mercedes.”

“You as well, Becky.”

“It’s Baylee,” I mumbled as they headed down the hallway.

Frantically unlocking my door, I tore through my condo, grabbing an open bottle of red wine and pouring a glass. I didn’t care that it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. I needed something to shake off meeting Mercedes. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

Just as I was about to take another long slug of my wine, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw a text from Sebby.

I’m sorry
.

My hands hovered over the screen, about to respond, but what would I say? I couldn’t possibly say everything I wanted to, that he should have let me know Mercedes was coming to town. But why did that matter? Guilt seeped into my conscience. Sebby and I had never done anything inappropriate, but there was a spark between us that had been stoked with each second we spent together. Nothing had been able to dull it, not even meeting Mercedes, but it put the reality of our friendship into a cold, hard truth.

Throwing my phone on the counter, I ignored his text, plus all the subsequent beeps indicating more incoming messages. I just wanted to forget for a minute… Forget that he had a girlfriend, and forget that I was about to throw myself at him, encouraging him to make me the other woman. Heading to the couch, I grabbed my mother’s journal, staring at the leather cover, running my fingers over her embossed initials.

“You don’t have any pearls of wisdom in here for when you fall in love with a man you can’t have, do ya?”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

I
T
WAS
EVENING
WHEN
I pulled up to the valet of a swanky hotel in downtown Los Angeles, looking forward to seeing my uncle. After the morning I had, I needed a familiar face who had absolutely no connection to Sebby. I needed someone to distract me from having my heart crushed in the hallway outside my condo. I prayed my uncle would do just that, as he often did back home when I was having a bad day.

I pulled my coat close to my body. The gray clouds present earlier had given way to a heavy downpour, which was much-needed out here in drought-ridden California. The wind was fierce, chilling me to the bone. I felt bad for all the people who had come here on vacation in the hopes of enjoying some sun and sand. Still, I knew the rain pummeling the coast at this moment would give way to sun tomorrow. That’s how it was out here.

After tipping the valet, I walked through the revolving doors and into the lobby of the hotel. It was bustling with people coming and going, voices echoing in the cavernous entry. Back home, the nicest hotel was a budget-friendly place whose most marketable amenity was an outdoor swimming pool. The only people staying there were those unlucky enough to be in town to conduct business with one of the many mills or my father’s lumber company. This hotel was a palace compared to the one back home, and it should be. It cost my uncle at least $700 a night. The marble flooring was so clean and lustrous, I could almost see my reflection in it.

I strolled past a sitting area with a coffee bar and up to a desk set in front of an elegant stone wall boasting the name of the hotel in gold lettering.

“Excuse me,” I asked a man at the desk. “Which way is the bar?”

“Just past the wall here,” he instructed, gesturing beyond where he stood and toward a circular bar with a towering stone wall in the middle.

“Thank you.” I smiled and proceeded toward the bar. It was packed with people all decked out. In LA, it seemed most people pretended to be someone they weren’t. This was the case in here, too. Nobody needed to wear sunglasses inside on a dark, rainy night.

I scanned the area, searching for a set of familiar eyes I hadn’t seen in two months. It felt like such a short time. So much had happened since the fateful day that I took my dog for a walk and gave a stranger a bloody nose. I had been looking for a fresh start, an escape from the only life I had ever known. I never anticipated losing my heart all over again.

“Baylee Grace!” a voice cried out as I approached a table toward the back of the bar. In that instant, all my troubles and heartache of the past twenty-four hours vanished, if only for a second. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He raised himself from his chair and I found my way into his arms.

“It’s so good to see you, Uncle Monty.” I inhaled his scent, immediately reminded of home. But it wasn’t really home anymore, if it ever was. And, after today, I wasn’t sure LA was home, either.

“It’s great to see you, too.” He pulled back, releasing me from his embrace, and helped me into a chair.

He smiled, then signaled to a server. Although he was in his mid-sixties, my uncle didn’t look a day over forty. He always joked that his lack of wife and kids attributed to his youthful appearance. He had a full head of gray hair that showed no signs of receding anytime soon. In Charlotte legal circles, he was referred to as North Carolina’s Richard Gere. I had to admit that there was a resemblance between the actor and Montgomery Chester Crawford, III. Having that name, if he wasn’t destined to work in the legal profession, I don’t know what to tell you.

“What can I get you?” a bubbly brunette asked, approaching us almost instantly. My uncle always had a commanding but gentile presence wherever he went. The charming smile, the sparkling eyes, the perfectly tailored and pressed designer suits made heads turn daily. He was impossible to ignore.

I opened my mouth, about to order my typical drink…a Manhattan. But that just reminded me of Sebby and Mercedes. “Old Fashioned,” I said to the waitress, channeling my southern roots.

She nodded, focusing her attention on my uncle. “Can I get you another scotch?” She gave him a provocative smile, her eyes leering at him. I simply shook my head. No matter where he went, women flirted with him, many of them young enough to be his granddaughter.

“Sure thing, sugar,” he responded, winking. He had a smooth and inviting Carolina accent, as opposed to the full-blown twangy one that surrounded me growing up. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my childhood in a small town, which most people never heard of, with a population of less than 4,000. Everyone knew everyone else. Front porch sitting and sweet tea sipping were common occurrences during summer days. I just wasn’t meant to live there the rest of my life. Like my uncle always told me, I am my mother’s daughter. I was meant to spread my wings.

The waitress retreated from us, swaying her hips in such a way that made it obvious she was trying to draw attention to her petite backside from the sixty-something-year-old man sitting across from me. It should have weirded me out, but over the years, I had grown used to the countless women flirting with my uncle. He always winked, calling it an occupational hazard.

“Old Fashioned?” Uncle Monty eyed me, raising his glass to his mouth. “The Baylee I know usually stuck with beer.”

“What can I say?” I leaned back into my chair. “LA has changed me.”

“I hope for the better.”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that, but I think so.”

“Good. Now, tell me what you’ve been doing since you came out here.”

Hesitating, I contemplated how much I should tell him about what had been going on in my life over the past few months.

“Come on, Baylee. Let me hear it. Who is he?”

The waitress returned with our drinks, placing mine in front of me before doing the same with my uncle’s scotch. When I noticed blue ink on the cocktail napkin she placed his drink on, I rolled my eyes. He simply smiled the boyish grin of his that shaved decades off his true age. He would never call her, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the attention.

“What makes you think—”

“I know you, Baylee. I can
always
tell.”

Letting out a short breath, I took a sip of my drink and launched into everything that had happened since I arrived in California, repeating some things I had already shared with him. I told him about meeting a mysterious man when Sport tried to hump another dog; how he turned out to be my very successful, very handsome neighbor; how he had been helping me with Mom’s bucket list, and that we had grown closer than I ever imagined; how I had a few dating disasters — first with a gay man, then with a man who turned out to be my gynecologist; how I had finally met someone who, for all intents and purposes, I should have been interested in, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Sebby.