Hope Over Fear (Over #1) (30 page)

I KNOW HE’S here. I can feel him. When my students open the door and start leaving the classroom, the air instantly feels charged in a way that I only feel when he’s near. I’m not really surprised he would find me at the clinic. I’ve worked hard to be inaccessible all week, but I already committed to working this morning, and I didn’t want to leave Caroline in a lurch.

I’ve been dodging him all week, knowing that he could change my mind with the slightest contact. In my own personal hell, I’ve been listening to the ringing of my phone, the dinging of my texts, and his pleas to Marlo as I stay locked in the bathroom with tears streaming down my face. But every time I start to waver, I hear his cold voice.

Who does that? No one I can introduce to my children, that’s who
.

Those words are like ice-cold water splashed in my face. I can’t tune them out, no matter how hard I try. Those words are all my worst fears about myself coming to life—I’m just not good enough. The sooner I come to terms with that fact, the better off I’ll be.

I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and try my best to exude calm I don’t actually feel. I peer out the door before stepping out, and I’m surprised to see Adam’s back as he strides out of the office. He doesn’t turn around and spare me even the slightest glance.

I should feel relieved. I should be glad to have avoided what would have undoubtedly been a tense conversation. I’ve spent all week working tirelessly to avoid Adam. But it still hurts like hell that he was here at the clinic and made no attempt whatsoever to see me.

“Sara, I’ll be here the rest of the morning, so you can leave if you’d like,” Caroline offers as she walks into the room.

“Thanks, Caroline. I think I’ll take you up on that offer. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

“Well, go get some rest.” Caroline turns to walk away, hesitates, and moves slowly toward me. “Sara, you know I’m here for you if you ever want to talk. I’m very good at being an unbiased ear, and you know my lips are always sealed.”

“That’s a sweet offer, and I really appreciate it. I’m not up for talking right now, though. Sometimes things seem to come to life and hurt even more once you say them out loud. I’m not ready for it to be real yet.”

“I understand. Just give it some time, and talk to someone when you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be me, but you should talk to someone. I’ll give one more piece of old woman’s advice, and then I’ll leave you alone. You gave up your best friend so you, and Mason for that matter, could have a chance to find true love. That soul-stopping, heart-wrenching kind of love. Maybe you should think twice before casting it aside at the first bump in the road.”

Caroline squeezes my hand and walks away before I have chance to respond. If only things were so easy.

I grab my purse and head for the door. As I reach from my keys, I notice a folded piece of paper sticking out of the top of my purse. Upon closer inspection, I can’t mistake the handwriting scribbled across the front of the paper. My heart quickens with the realization, and I scan the parking lot looking for a familiar jeep as I rush to my car.

I sit behind the wheel of my car and lock the door. Do I want to read the note now? Or should I wait until I get home? Before I have the opportunity to change my mind, I unfold the note and start reading, tears threatening behind my eyes.

Sara,

I know I’m the last person you want to talk to right now. I know you think there’s nothing left to say between us, but you’re wrong.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I hope you give me the chance to show you how much you truly mean to me.

I miss you. God, Sara, I miss you so fucking much. Everything reminds me of you. But I’ll wait. However long it takes, Sara, I’m waiting.

As much as it kills me, I’m going to respect that you need space right now. But I’m here, babe. When you’re ready…

Adam

A tear escapes and trickles down my cheek. I want to believe that one day I’ll be ready for him—that I can forgive him and we can move forward. But the realist in me knows it’s impossible. His letter is beautiful, but I can’t just erase my memory.

Go ahead, Sara. Run. That is what you do best, right?

“Count On Me” by Bruno Mars

“UGH! THIS LOOKS like a kindergartener’s finger painting, Alex. I suck at this,” I whine, rather unattractively.

Alex’s gallery is closed on Mondays, so she invited me to stop in for a dose of creativity. While I love visiting with my friend, my work in progress leaves a lot to be desired. When it comes to art, I’m definitely no Alexandra Fontaine. I could give new meaning to the term ‘starving artist.’

“No, you don’t. It looks great. There’s no right or wrong here. Just let the paintbrush speak for you. Use it as an extension of yourself, and let your emotions flow,” Alex states calmly as she focuses on her own painting, which is probably going to be her next masterpiece. Mine, not so much.

“You sound like an afterschool special. ‘Feel the paint. Be the paint.’ I’m pretty sure that I’m better off as a patron of the arts, because this is a hot mess.”

“Look, I’ll give you an example of how emotions flow through art. The painting that’s hanging in your living room? I painted that right when I got to New York. What do you see when you look at it?”

I absolutely love that painting. It resembles a loose interpretation of a feminine figure. At the bottom, white cloudlike forms inch up the woman’s legs, but the clouds look too pristine, too precise in comparison to the woman. Her arms outstretch in a way that looks as if she is holding the clouds at bay. Maybe she’s rising up from the clouds, I’m not sure. The figure is far more fluid than the clouds, using blues and purples in swirl patterns.

“What do I see? I’m not really sure. It’s a woman, I’m sure of that. Is she holding the clouds down?” I question, feeling self-conscious about my answers. I don’t want to humiliate myself with my primitive art interpretation skills. I’m a little embarrassed I don’t know more about the painting I bought years ago. I may not know what the painting means, but I’m certain of how it makes me feel. “I’m not sure of what you were trying to say with the painting, but when I look at it, I feel free.”

A smile spreads across Alex’s face and slowly reaches her eyes. As I study her, I realize Alex’s smiles have been few and far between as of late. I keep waiting for her to tell me what’s been bothering her, but she stays silent when I push her about her mood.

“It’s actually a self-portrait. And I definitely felt free when I painted it.”

“A self-portrait, huh? Tell me about it,” I say as I put down the paintbrush and sit on a stool next to Alex’s workstation.

“Well, the clouds at the bottom symbolize growing up in my family. It was a time when perfection was the goal every day. I was rewarded for having perfect grades, being ‘friends’ with the ‘right people,’ looking the part of the perfect daughter. When I got to New York, I promised myself things would be different. Nothing in my life would be perfect. No more pleasantries for the sake of being polite. I wanted a life filled with fun, unbridled love, and most importantly, imperfection. I was ready to jump off the cliff, but it was absolutely terrifying to completely change my life. The very first night, I went up to the roof of the dorm with my art supplies. That painting is the result of the emotions barreling through me as I started a new chapter in my life.”

“Wow, now my painting really feels like a piece of crap!” I joke and shove Alex’s shoulder.

“Whatever! When I look at your painting, I see anger and confusion, but I also see longing. Am I close?” Alex asks as she points out certain aspects of my work.

“Unfortunately, that’s pretty accurate. Adam acts as if we can move past this, but I have to see it for what it really is. This is a dead end, and I have to accept that and move on. The things he said to me … I can’t get them out of my head. God, he really hurt me.”

“Why does it have to be the end? I’m not trying to argue with you, I’m just trying to understand,” Alex placates when she sees my frustrated look.

“Because he doesn’t believe I’m good enough. He didn’t forget my birthday or show up late. He gave breath and life to every insecurity I have. He thinks he needs to protect his kids from me, and I can’t just forget that,” I say definitively, hoping to end this line of questioning.

“Okay, Sara, don’t get mad at me, but I have two questions for you to think about. I’m not looking for an answer or anything. I’m just offering you a different perspective to consider. First of all, can you really say he thinks you’re not good enough when you haven’t even told him what really happened? He doesn’t know the truth, and he’s still fighting for you.” Alex raises her eyebrows in question. “Also, I don’t know if I can ever fault Adam for wanting to protect his kids. He’s a father, Sara. I bet he’d throw himself in front of Lily and Gage at the slightest threat. And we’ve already established that he doesn’t know the real story, so it seems logical he would shelter them until he knew more. Okay, okay, I see your face, so I’m going to shut up now—”

Before Alex can finish her discourse, a loud banging on the door interrupts her. Marlo continues to knock incessantly until Alex makes it to the door.

“All right, all right Marlo! I’m going as fast as I can.” Alex huffs in aggravation.

“I come bearing gifts, and I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Marlo quips as she pats Alex on the shoulder. “You’ll get over it once you see what I’ve brought.”

“Are there cupcakes in there? Please let there be cupcakes in there,” I pray as I try to peek into the bag. Marlo swats my hand before I can get a good look.

Baking the most delectable gourmet cupcakes is one of Marlo’s many talents. She thankfully only makes them for special occasions; otherwise we would all weigh three hundred pounds. Seriously, Marlo could put all the bakers in town out of business if she’d open up a shop.

“Of course I brought cupcakes. The flavors of the day are white chocolate lavender and chocolate raspberry truffle.” Marlo removes the cupcakes from the pastry box, and they are almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. “Enjoy, ladies. These are meant to cheer y’all up. Sara’s been inconsolable for over a week, and don’t think I’ve overlooked your dark mood, missy,” Marlo accuses as she points at Alex.

Alex shrugs nonchalantly and saunters over to the cupcakes. “I have no idea what you mean. I’m perfectly fine, but far be it from me to refuse cupcakes.”

“Uh huh, sure, whatever you say. I’m letting it slide for now, but your reprieve will end soon, I promise you. That’s not the only gift I have for my forlorn friends,” Marlo says as she hands each of us a book.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It’s a little something-something to revive your faith in romance. Or if not romance, at least your faith in really hot sex. It’s one of my favorite erotic romance novels. Seriously, ladies, this shit is smokin’ hot. No orifice is left unmolested,” Marlo overshares.

“Ugh, Marlo!” Alex and I groan in unison.

“TMI much?” I say as I roll my eyes.

“Whatever, you’ll love it, I swear. It’ll remind you that there are other guys out there besides Adam who can make your hoo-ha sing. Now, I’m not convinced that you need to give up on Mr. Sex on a Stick just yet, but that’s just my opinion.” Marlo offers, raising her hands in apology.

“I share that opinion!” Alex shouts with a hand raise.

“I didn’t solicit opinions from the peanut gallery, thank you very much. And I’ll thank you to banish all thoughts of making my hoo-ha sing.” I cross my arms over my chest and give them each a stern look.

“Fine, I’ll give you a break today, too, but you’re time is running out. The only time I’ve seen you out of scrub pants is when you put on yoga pants. You hair is up in a permanent ponytail, and I don’t think makeup has graced your face in over a week. Get it together, girl, because we’re having a barbeque with everyone Friday night. You’re coming, and I don’t want any flak from you about going,” Marlo says.

“Oh, no! Going to that barbeque is bad for my mental health.” I see Alex and Marlo exchanging conspiring glances, but I’m just not having it. “You two are not pushing me into this.”

“Calm down, Sara. No one is going to force you against your will,” Alex says.

“Like hell we won’t!”

“Hush up, Marlo. Sara, let’s just see how the week goes. Just try to keep an open mind, okay hun?”

I’ve got to find an excuse to dodge this barbeque. Seeing Adam so soon will rip my heart out. Fuck, who am I kidding? I don’t think enough time will ever pass where seeing Adam again will be a non-issue. It’s gonna have to be a good excuse, or Alex and Marlo will hunt me down. I start my first of three shifts tomorrow night, and I’m not above rubbing up against a sick person to put myself out of commission. Hey, that’s not a bad idea …