Page 112 of You've Got Male

“Don’t let this checklist you’ve created in your head be a shield between you and love. Because while love takes some sacrifice, the lifetime of joy is worth it. But you’ve built up these walls that are so thick and high no one could possibly climb them. And that includes you, dear.”

She wanted to argue that Jonah had. He hadn’t just scaled them, he’d taken them down brick by brick. Only she didn’t have the courage to step across that line. Suddenly, her foundation turned to quicksand.

“What do I do?” she asked as an idea slowly took shape, blurring her vision. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you love him?” Moira asked.

“So much I can’t breathe.”

“Then let the world know it,” Lenard said.

For the first time in days, elation bubbled up in her chest. “I love him,” she repeated. “And know just how to tell him. I know how to fix everything. But I’m going to need help. Lots of people’s help. Oh, and I think it’s time for that blue dress.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Jonah

Jonah sat on the back deck, staring off into the distance. He saw none of the freshly planted flowers overflowing in the raised beds, or the new shrubs that lined the fence and side yard. He saw nothing but blurred, empty space—kind of like what was carved into his chest.

He’d been in a zombie-like state since Evie had chosen the easy way, leaving him with the cold hard truth—his love wasn’t worth fighting for. He’d been here before—twice—but this time had wrecked him beyond repair. He still felt the marks her words left with every breath he took.

Today was the walk-through with the Beautification Board. She hadn’t come. Evie hadn’t even shown up to see the finished product of what they’d grown together, making it more than clear that being with him was too much of a sacrifice. That a life without his love was easier to accept than the baggage that came with his world.

He knew he’d messed up—big time. But not big enough tojustify her walking away. He’d been tempted to call her a thousand times, but he’d meant what he’d said. He couldn’t fight for another person who would rather leave than work things out.

Every word of hers had turned into fists, socking him in the chest, over and over, leaving his heart bruised and battered. Unlike bruises, though, these would never fully heal.

With a growl, he walked down the slate path and out into the front yard to hear the final outcome of the Beautification Board’s ruling. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear anything that reminded him of Evie. It was as if the sun had been extinguished from parts of his soul and they’d never feel the warmth again.

But he needed to get it together. He couldn’t put his kids through another downward spiral. They deserved better.

With that last thought, he walked through the gate and came to a full and complete halt. The crowd had doubled. His front lawn had more senior citizens than Thursday night bingo. It smelled like fresh-cut grass, Werther’s caramel candy, and Bengay. And they all looked as if they were about to burst with news.

“Do you need to check out the backyard as well?” he asked.

“No,” Mrs. Gomez said. “The board only has oversight of what is visible from the street. And what you’ve done is just lovely, dear. Amber would be so happy to see her flower-lined walkway again and the shrubs are quite the statement. You went above and beyond.”

Before he could stop himself, he said, “I had help.”

Confusion tinted Mrs. Gomez’s expression. “We know. Which is why we’re surprised you’re here.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Of course I’d be here. Where else would I be?”

“At the coffee shop,” she said, and mumbles of agreement wafted up from the crowd.

“Why the hell would I be there?” That’s the last place onthe planet he’d be…unless they didn’t know. Secrets were a commodity in their neighborhood, so he’d just assumed that word had traveled of their breakup.

Shit.

He ran a hand down his face. He did not want to explain his personal life to a bunch of busybodies, especially since their fake relationship and subsequent breakup had played out for America to see. “I wanted to be here to hear your decision.”

Neighbors turned to each other in quiet conversation, and it was as if everyone was in on the secret but him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“We’re guessing you haven’t been following Tasha Hart on LoveByte.”

“Why would I?” The only reason he had for logging onto ClickByte was to see Evie. The first thing he’d done after the breakup was to delete the fucking app.

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