Page 34 of From West, With Regret

WEST

What the hell am I doing?

It’s the question I should be asking myself, but I’m not.

I don’t feel guilty for the way I’m feeling. I’ve searched for London for years, and now she’s here, a terrorizing brother who I never considered mine won’t stop me from giving in to my feelings. I’ve suppressed them for so long. Pent up frustration and regret have eaten me alive.

But now? London has given me reprieve. She’s a breath of fresh air, bringing me back to life.

Although a few truths remain.

Technically, I’m now her boss, and she’s now my employee. We’ve settled into a basic routine. A professional one, but I can’t help feeling like there’s more. The little teases. The constant texting. The back and forth of pretending to talk about work.

There’s also the matter of me proposing the idea of a reopening of The Veiled Door in a few months, all for the purpose of unveiling London’s work, but now I’m kicking myself for putting a deadline on working with her. The kicker is, I don’t even knowwhenthat might be. For all I know, London could be finished working on her twentieth piece within a matter of days.

I’ve pigeonholed myself into giving her an easy out. Not that I would force her to stay if she didn’t want to, but I’m not even certain putting a deadline on it would be any better. No amount of time with her will ever be enough.

Then there’s the little fact that she doesn’t remember me.

So, the pent-up frustration still lingers.

It’s been nearly a month since I hired her. I’ve cleared the upstairs storage room for her to work in, but I know it’s only temporary. I plan on finding her a bigger studio, one she’s worthy of. I’ve even considered hitting up Asher and putting an obscene bid on any listing he might have that would work for London’s studio. Money doesn’t matter to me at this point, especially when it comes to her, but I don’t want to scare her away. Especially after what she told me about the top one percent and how they feel entitled to living in their own bubble without any regard for giving back to the society that lifted them up in the first place.

Although her marriage to Heath wasn’t a marriage at all, her life has been uprooted. She’s in a new city and adjusting to working with me.

I keep the idea of finding her a bigger studio in my back pocket, seeing if I can come up with another solution. She hasn’t complained about working in the storeroom, but I don’t expect her to.

My mind wanders to that day, when she had the panic attack.

The sound of me moving the boxes and the crashing of my clumsy movements triggered her. Deep in my gut, I know it’s from her past. The time she doesn’t remember, even though I do.

I remember it all. The beauty and the pain.

I’m dying for London to remember me, but her memory also comes with tragedy.

It seems like her mind is toying with the darkest memories.

I hang my head, staring at the rushing water twenty feet below.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I realized I never told you that I’m sorry.” Holt offers kindly.

I look over my shoulder to the table where Holt and Asher are sitting.

“Sorry for what?” I ask, confused, rejoining them at the table. I think about the past month and can’t think of a single thing Holt should be apologizing for. His face is pinched, focused on the five cards in his hand.

Our friendship started as business. A reporter working for Holt’s magazine wanted to write an article focusing on local breweries. After the initial interview, I’d gone up to the magazine’s office and met with Holt. From then on, we hit it off.

It’s interesting because when I think back on it, Holt’s the longest friend I’ve ever had. My life never afforded me the opportunity to hold relationships for long, platonic or romantic. When you have a childhood like mine, you learn to accept that no one ever stays.

But there was one exception to this life lesson.

I swallow down the regret I have for knowing I could have had that with London. Ididhave that. A least wehadhad the beginning of it before it was ripped away.

Over the years, I’ve realized forcing a dream is a fool’s errand. But is it possible to have second chances at a dream you had when you were fifteen? With someone who only knows who you are now?

“I’m sorry for the loss of your brother,” Holt elaborates, plucking a card from his hand and placing it face down on the table. He picks up another from the deck and adds it to his hand.

“It’s been two months since his death.” I roll my eyes,picking up the cards Asher just dealt. “And I really wish people would stop saying that.”

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