The Real Baxter (The Baxter Chronicles 1)

I didn’t bother wiping my tears now. I stared up at the starry sky and let them fall. “You’re gonna think I’m nuts, but…I need you to forgive me.”

“For what?”

“For hurting you. Forgive me for putting myself before us. Forgive me for not listening. Forgive me for disappointing you. Over and over and—”

“Stop. That’s not necessary, Seb.”

“Please.”

Gray clenched his jaw as if bracing himself from emotion. “I forgive you.”

I sniffed loudly, my eyes clouded with tears. “Thank you.”

“I forgave you a long time ago. I’m sad that you still punish yourself,” he whispered.

“I don’t know how to stop,” I admitted. “It’s like I still hear voices telling me I can’t have what I want. I can’t have you. I can’t have Trent. I can’t have—”

“Love?”

I let out a ragged exhale. “Maybe.”

“Seb, you have to forgive yourself. You have to put the heavy stuff aside and walk away if you’re gonna ever move on, baby.”

I licked my lips and nodded. “Is that from a song?”

Gray barked a laugh, then pulled me into a one-armed hug and kissed my cheek. “No, smartass. But I’m gonna write that line down.”

“You should.”

Gray settled into his chair, his gaze fixed on the low flame in the firepit. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“I know you will.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while as if paying homage to our past. When the ghosts faded, we were us again.

We laughed about Charlie’s run-in with the caterer who’d tried to talk him out of ordering shrimp cocktail for their wedding, Justin’s Maldives honeymoon idea, and Oliver’s new Claymation project starring a whale named Wanda. I teased him about bachelor party ideas until he threatened to throw me into the pool…which made us laugh some more.

Late evening gave way to the early hours of morning. We finished the Pinot and half of another bottle, sitting side by side with the city slumbering below—old partners, former lovers, and the very best of friends. It was kind of amazing that we’d built something, torn it to shreds, and had somehow managed to rise from the ashes mostly intact. It gave me hope.

And it reminded me that I was a survivor. And I was brave.

If I wanted Trent in my life…for real, I was going to have to prove it.

Sebastian-style.

I borrowed Gray’s BMW and drove to the Valley the following morning at the crack of dawn. Amazing feat, considering I’d gotten a total of three hours of sleep in Justin and Gray’s guest room last night. But the only way to beat LA traffic was to get moving early. It did me no good.

Trent wasn’t home. Or he wasn’t answering his door at six a.m. I texted him…nothing.

So I drove to the studio and buried my nose in a stack of reports I should have read or signed off on weeks ago instead. I think I shocked the hell out of Trish, who wasn’t used to arriving after me. Nor was she accustomed to me moving important meetings at the last possible second.

“Did you want to postpone with finance or make it a Zoom meeting instead?” she asked, wringing her hands worriedly. Poor thing looked like she wanted to check my temperature.

“Um, yeah. Whatever. Maybe tomorrow? I’m heading out for an early lunch.” I checked my cell for messages. By this time, I’d sent at least three texts to Trent with no response. I had to think of another way to reach him, I mused, opening the door to my private exit.

“Will you be back for your one o’clock meeting, or shall I reschedule?”

“Mmm. I don’t know. I’ll text you.” I smiled, hoping it would make me seem less flaky.

“Seb?” Trish rounded her desk and met me at the door. “Are you okay?”

I twisted my lips and shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

“If you need anything…other than the usual stuff, I’m here,” she replied kindly.

That got me.

I hugged her impulsively, then headed for the exit.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled up in front of Casa del Sol. According to their website, they opened at eleven. I’d called ahead of time and found out the manager on duty was Trent’s friend, Macy Cavanaugh. He talked about her often, but I’d never met her.

I hadn’t been back to the restaurant since his coworker Der E Air had taken a sneak photo of me drinking water. I should have insisted that he introduce me to her or his friends at the playhouse or the animal shelter. I could claim I’d been busy…and that was true. But it was also true that I’d kept him at arm’s length. Other than Oliver’s birthday party when Ollie had insisted on inviting Trent, we’d operated in a bubble. And that wasn’t an accident.

I hadn’t wanted to get too close and have to deal with “feelings” when things ended. And ironically, that was exactly where I was now. I’d gotten too close, caught feelings, and I was miserable.