Page 85 of A Pizza My Heart

I couldn’t hide the hurt that comes over me if my life depended on it.

He came here without me? He’s been home for a few weeks and he’s already been back here? In all the time he was away, I didn’t step foot on this side of the beach. It didn’t feel right. It wasours,notmine.Being here without Foster wasn’t something I wanted to experience.

“In my defense, I assumed you’d come here while I was gone.” He casts his gaze out to the ocean, the night air pushing the water around, waves crashing against the rocks with a splash. “How could you not? This place is our paradise.”

“You’re right. It isours.”

He winces. “I’m picking up your meaning loud and clear. I’m sorry.”

I don’t answer him right away, mostly because I’m annoyed at him, but I’m also a little annoyed at myself.

When Foster first left, I was pissed. Beyond angry. I didn’t understand how he could just pack up and leave, marrying some stranger. I knew he had always wanted to explore the world, but I never thought he’d do it and leave us—me—behind like he did.

Over the years, I came to accept it, understood it a little better.

He had his chance, and he took it. I can’t blame him for that. There’s no reason I should still be upset with him.

So why do I still feel the need to protect myself around him? To guard my heart? I was so attached to him, had grown so used to him always being there. Then suddenly he was gone, and I was gutted.

It felt like he’d taken a piece of me with him.

I’m scared of feeling that again…which is probably why I keep pushing away all these new feelings I’m having for him; I don’t want to be abandoned again.

I don’t want to pretend with him, but I’m not ready to completely let my guard down either.

I wave off his apology. “You shouldn’t be. I guess I’m just sensitive when it comes to you and your…well, your ability to forget about me.”

His shoulders go rigid, and there’s a shift in the air.

I canfeelthe tension brewing.

“Forget about you?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “I hope to god you’re shitting me, Wren.”

When I don’t answer, he pushes to his feet, pacing the bed of the truck, hands on his hips. Anger and frustration are rolling off him in waves.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said all evening?”

“Yes?” I don’t know why it comes out as a question, but he doesn’t seem to care either way, continuing his rant.

“Paid a lick of attention to what I’ve said?” A headshake. “I didn’t forget about you, Wren. I could never forget about you. You’re the reason I left.”

I am?“I am?”

“Yes!” he explodes, like it’s the most obvious thing he’s ever said and he can’t believe I’m questioning it.

I shake my head. “No. You left for you…for her. You didn’t leave because of me. You always wanted to get away from here. That had nothing to do with me.”

“Bullshit it didn’t. All that crap we talked about before? Idealized kid shit. I didn’t want to leave. I was just running from what I couldn’t have.”

“Which was?”

“You.”

I scoff. “So then what was Layla?”

“My desperate attempt to move on after you turned me down.”

“I didn’t turn you down, Foster.”

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