“Connor, just…” I rubbed my eyes. “Forget me. Forget this conversation. I’ll get over it. Her. I have nothing with her. You do. Love her back, man. It’s so easy.”
He shook his head, a wry twist of his usual smile on his lips.
“You know, for a second there, with her tonight, I was happy. No girl’s ever said she was in love with me. I’ve never said it. I’ve never felt it. I never thought to take things that far because it’s not easy. It’s fucking hard work. And work was never my thing. It’s your thing. You do the work and I reap the benefits.” He clinked his beer bottle to my coffee mug. “And I don’t know why you do it.” He rose to his feet. “I’m going to bed.”
“Connor…”
“It’s fine, Wes. I’m not going to tell her. Everything’s going to change once we step on that plane, anyway.”
“Yeah, it will.”
You and I are going to change. Maybe irrevocably.
Connor gave me a little salute with his beer bottle and took it with him to his room.
I slumped down at the table, my head in my hands. A few of my poem’s words swam into focus while three words screamed across my mind.
She loves you, she loves you, she loves you.
“She loves me.”
If I reached out and took that love, it would blow up three lives. Connor signed up to go to war to prove he was worthy of love. Autumn gave him her heart and body. I couldn’t see past next week, but I knew the truth of right here and now. I was the one who fucked with their hearts, and if I didn’t fix it, I’d lose them both.
Autumn
“Hello? Young lady?”
I blinked and whipped my gaze to the customer at the counter. “I’m sorry, what?”
The woman fumed and shook her pastry bag at me. “I wanted a bear claw. This is not a bear claw.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it.”
I took the tongs and a small pastry bag to grab the last bear claw in the case.
Three days. They’re shipping out in three days.
The bear claw slipped out of my grasp and hit the ground, where it broke into pieces.
“Well, isn’t that fantastic,” the customer snapped. “That was the last one, wasn’t it?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”
I covered my face with my hands, trying to hold back the rising wave of emotion. It crashed down and I bolted, rushing past Edmond to the back room.
“Ma chère?”
In the back, I sank onto an overturned flour bucket, hunched over and hugged my arms, sucking in deep breaths.
“Philippe, take the counter,” I heard Edmond say. Then he was crouched down by my feet.
“Ma fille, qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
“I’m sorry, Edmond. I can’t concentrate. I’m a mess.”
“You’re no mess. Tell me, why the tears?”
“Connor and Weston are shipping out in a few days, for training, and then to the Middle East.”