The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (78 page)

By the time she
’
s done filling me in, the seat beside her has opened up and I snag it right away. We order dinner and continue nursing our first round of beer as we wait.

“
So, what lesson did we learn today?
”
I ask, propping my elbow against the bar.

“
Uhhh
…
.
”
she bites her bottom lip before offering me a coy shrug.

I shake my head and chuckle.
“
Don
’
t go home with strangers
. Even if it is raining,
”
I add, teasingly.

“
But what if he
’
s hot?
”
she retorts, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“
Apparently, your beer goggles can
’
t make that differentiation. So my rule stands.
”

“
Oh, now it
’
s a
rule
?
”

“
Seriously, though, why don
’
t you just try
dating
? Aren
’
t hook-ups exhausting? They sound exhausting.
”

“
Sometimes,
”
she admits.
“
But they also aren
’
t complicated.
”

“
Is that what you
’
re afraid of?
”

“
Don
’
t get it twisted, scrumptious, I
’
m not
afraid
of dating. I just don
’
t date. I
play
.
”

A small smile tugs at my lips as images of Addie fill my head. She
’
s the only girl that I
’
ve ever been in a relationship with. Sometimes I think that
’
s crazy, but mostly I realize that I
’
m so lucky to have found her. I don
’
t envy people who are out there searching for that person they
’
d like to share their life with
—
or, worse, just one night
—
only to end up disappointed time and time again.

“
I think you
’
re missing out,
”
I tell her.

“
Or
,
”
she starts and then she stops. I watch her as she traces the tip of her middle finger around the rim of her glass, seemingly lost in thought.

“
Or what?
”
I ask when my patience runs out.

She smirks at me.
“
Or
—
maybe I
’
m just holding out. Right guy. Right time.
Less
complicated. Only time will tell.
”

I
’
m not sure if she
’
s referring to someone in particular or speaking generally, but she changes the subject before I can find out. It
’
s not long before our food comes; as we eat, we discuss our weekend plans and the upcoming semester. When we
’
re finished, we both decide to call it a night, our contagious yawns cluing us in on our shared exhaustion.

“
Are you coming out tomorrow?
”
I ask as I walk her to her car.

“
Tomorrow? Oh. The birthday thing. I can
’
t. I
’
ve got an outing with my co-workers. A little end of the summer bash. But, who knows, maybe we
’
ll run into each other.
”

“
Maybe we will.
”

“
Thanks for walking me to my car, Mysterious. And for dinner, of course. You bumped this day up to a five. Bravo.
”
I bow in jest and she playfully smacks my shoulder.
“
Don
’
t get cocky. It doesn
’
t suit you.
”

“
In that case, I
’
ll just say
you
’
re welcome
.
”

“
Better.
”
She hugs me before climbing into her car.
“
See you.
”

I wave, slipping my fingertips into the front pockets of my jeans as I watch her drive away. Heading to my vehicle, a tired half-smile lifts the corner of my mouth. It
’
s nights like this one that humble me; nights like this one that remind me, my life isn
’
t just full
—
it
’
s overflowing.

If I had to pick one word to describe my summer, it would be
weird.
I know that I
’
m studying to be a teacher and that my vocabulary should probably be able to boast of itself with a far more creative choice of word, but that
’
s the best I can come up with.
Weird.
It wasn
’
t particularly superb or dreadful, but it certainly wasn
’
t
pedestrian
either.

I spent a lot of my time doing what I normally do every summer. I caught up on my reading, I spent a good amount of time working at the pub, I enjoyed the company of my friends, and I adopted the perfect summer workout routine
—
that last of which was essential, as our
baker babe
has outdone herself over the last few weeks. In fact, the only thing that made this summer significantly different than any other was my separation from Beckham. That
’
s part of the reason the last couple of months have been so
…
weird.

I
’
ve grown used to not seeing him as much. I don
’
t like it, but I
’
m not crying about it. I do miss him terribly, though. Not just
him
but him in the capacity of my boyfriend.
I would say him in the capacity of the man I love
—
but together or not, he will always be that.
The ache of my longing sometimes renders me useless, but I try not to dwell on it. I know that if I think too much about it, my fears will start to creep into my heart and I
’
ll be a complete mess. Instead, I
’
ve been seeking out healthy distractions when necessary. I
’
ve done a lot of journaling. I
’
m not sure where Gray got the idea for me to take up the practice, but I
’
m so grateful for the gift he and Ave bestowed upon me right after the breakup. Sometimes, I just need to dump my thoughts somewhere. The pages of my personal novel are filled with my worries, my fears, my questions; they are also filled with pleasant memories, my hopes and dreams, and my love. It
’
s almost as if the little leather bound book is a
place
instead of a
thing
; it
’
s my safe haven
—
a place to pray, grieve, celebrate, and reminisce.

One of the benefits of having the journal is my friends don
’
t have to hear me talk about what I
’
m struggling with
all the time
. I know they would listen, because I have wonderful friends like that, but it
’
s nice to just enjoy their company and the moment we are in instead of making everything all about me. Besides, I really like hearing about
them
.

My favorite part of the summer, by far, has been my time with my friends. It
’
s also another reason why it
’
s been weird, because I
’
ve surrounded myself in new company the last couple months. Beckham and I don
’
t hang out alone anymore; at this point, I
’
m not even so sure it
’
s because of the breakup, he
’
s just been
really
busy. It definitely makes me appreciate the times I do get to see him even more.

While I have spent some quality time with my other half, she spends most of her free moments with Grayson. I
’
m incredibly happy for her, though, so I don
’
t complain too much when I miss her. I
’
ve never had to share her like this before, but now I know how it feels to be the single one of us. I won
’
t try and convince myself that I don
’
t get a little jealous of her sometimes, because I do
…
but just because I
’
m currently single doesn
’
t mean I
’
m alone.

Sarah, Roman, and I have kind of become the
Three Musketeers
—
which I
love.
Besides our shifts together at work, we
’
ve spent a good amount of time doing things around town in our free time, too. Every open mic night at Little Bird we can be found there together, huddled around a table right smack dab in the middle of the room. It happens a couple times a month; and just like the first time, we always hang out with Daphne afterwards. Sometimes Trevor, and whoever was working the shift with Daphne, will come too. Some of my best memories over the past few weeks have been created while in the company of my new friends
—
especially the one whose voice now fills this room.

As Avery would say, Roman is proof that God loves me. I
’
m convinced that he
’
s a gift. I won
’
t claim that he
’
s
my
gift, because he
’
s far too great to be confined within the boundaries of my world, but it can
’
t be denied that he entered my life at the right time and in the perfect place. There are so many reasons why he
’
s been such a blessing; aside from the fact that he makes me laugh, he relates to me and understands my situation better than anyone
—
excluding Beck, of course
. No, our stories aren
’
t exactly the same, but his experience comes closer than anyone else
’
s. Plus, since he knows my history
—
and has been witness to all of my public meltdowns
—
and
he hasn
’
t run away, I know he has my back. He assured me he was a good listener and he
’
s never been anything less. He
’
s also a really great and supportive friend, for whom I am so grateful.

Starting next week, I
’
ll be seeing him a lot less. I know I
’
ll miss the routine of seeing him at yoga four times a week and at the pub almost just as much. I
’
ve promised myself that I
’
ll make it a priority to squeeze in yoga every Saturday once the semester begins; and I know I
’
ll see him whenever I pick up a shift at the pub or when I pop in for a bite to eat. Also,
the Three Musketeers
have promised to keep our open mic night tradition going, no matter how busy we get.