Page 100 of I Saw Her First

I give a sad shake of my head. “She left. Said she can’t come between me and Jess, and that I needed to fix things with him first.”

“Fuck,” Rex mutters in dismay. “So now you don’t even have her.”

I nod miserably.Now I don’t even have her.

I must look absolutely pitiful, because Rex straightens up in his seat with determination. “Okay. I’ll help.”

“What?”

“I’ll try to track down Jess. I haven’t seen him since he was last at my place, but I know where he works and I’ll see if he’s there, if he’ll listen to me. It might take some time, but I’m sure we can get him to come around.”

I stare at Rex in disbelief. This is the kid I thought was derailing my son’s life, the guy I’ve always considered a bad influence, but as he lifts his beer to clink it against mine in an attempt to cheer me up, to give me some hope, I realize how wrong I was.

It wasn’t Rex who was a bad influence.

It was Jess.

And it’s my fault.

I take a long pull from my beer, finding it hard to swallow. “Thanks,” I mumble through a chest full of emotion. “For everything, Rex.” And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I sure am grateful Jess has a friend like him.

He won’t listen to me, but he might listen to Rex.

40

Daisy

If there’s one place on this planet I really don’t feel like being right now, it’s the bar where Jess works.

I push through the crowded doorway, my pulse ramping up as I enter the dimly lit setting. It’s quitting time on a Friday evening, and the dive bar is swarming with people enjoying that end-of-the-week buzz. Jess will be busy, but that’s intentional. I’ve waited all week for this moment, both to give him time to cool off, and to come when it would be busiest. I figured if I approached Jess when the place was packed, he’d be less likely to yell at me and storm off.

I still can’t completely rule that out, though.

This week has been torture without Wes. On Wednesday I went back to work, and have spent the past three days doing everything possible to keep myself busy. I deep cleaned the espresso machine. I scraped gum off the underside of every table in Joe’s. I cleaned out and reorganized the food cabinet.

But there are only so many things you can do in a coffee shop to pass the time, especially when it’s unusually quiet, like it has been this past week. Wes has mercifully respected my wishes for us to take some space and hasn’t come into Joe’s. Hetexted to check that I was okay, but that’s all. I replied that I was fine, and I hoped he was okay too, but it did nothing to soothe me. I desperately wanted to tell him about the disaster with my parents, to tell him I miss him like I’ve never missed anyone in my life.

I never knew it was possible to miss someone like this, that missing them could be a whole-body experience. My heart aches without him. My bones feel hollow. My limbs are heavy, and I have to drag myself around. But after that fiasco with my parents, I know I’m doing the right thing by putting his relationship with Jess first. It only reinforced how important that is.

I’ll have to see him at the wedding next weekend, though. I’ll just… have to keep my distance, I guess. Besides, I’ll be busy with the photography, and it’s not like we were going to be all over each other anyway. He didn’t want Violet and Kyle to know about us.

And I’ll have to pretend I’m okay with all of that.

Of course, I’ll have to find somewhere else to develop the photos from the wedding, but I’ve already done some research and discovered there are several darkroom spaces you can rent in Brooklyn. And while I’d rather be ensconced in my own private, custom-built darkroom at Weston’s house, I know that’s not the best idea right now. It would be all too easy to sneak upstairs to Wes’s bed, to fall into his arms and tell him I’m in love with him, to tell him I can’t stand to be apart.

Anyway. Enough thinking about him. It’s all I’ve done since I left, and it’s not helping one bit.

I elbow through the crowd, making my way to the bar where Jess is pouring a glass of Prosecco for a woman. She tucks a generous tip into his hand and saunters away, and it occurs to me that this is probably a pretty lucrative job for a good-looking guy like him.

He turns to the next customer, listening to their request, then I watch as he chats animatedly to the bartender next to him, a woman who looks to be mid-twenties, with long black braids, a wide smile, and warm brown skin. Jess says something as he mixes a cocktail, and she throws her head back, laughing and touching him on the arm. It makes me smile.

Until his gaze lifts to find me waiting at the bar, and his brows slam down. For a second I think he’ll ignore me, but he leans forward, the tendons flexing in his forearms as he grips the edge of the bar hard.

“What doyouwant?”

“Can we talk, Jess?” My heart rattles against my ribcage at the anger swirling in his gaze. “Please?”

“I’m busy, Daisy. Find someone else to talk to.” And with that, he turns to the next customer in line.

---