10. Lemon

ten

lemon

Standing in front of my closet, holding the hat that once belonged to Wade, I contemplate putting it back in the box and burying it deep in my closet or throwing it and the contents of the box away. Instead, I take the box down from my shelf, carry it over to my bed and lift the lid.

Years of memories rush out in a whoosh. I pick up the faded movie stub ticket from our first official date. Behind it, the folded note which Wade wrote asking me to be his girlfriend. I tip the box over and let the contents spread over my comforter. Each item I pick up brings a bout of tears that I fight to keep at bay. As far as I'm concerned, I've cried enough over this man.

I pick up the dried roses from our junior prom, some of their petals fall off, and bring the flowers to my nose. A pang of want courses through me, wishing they still smelled. Wade told me he ordered the corsage himself, but I always wondered if his mom had done it for him. Next to it is the boutonniere he wore on his tuxedo for our senior prom. And there's the first corsage he ever bought me for our cotillion ball. I don't know why I kept them.

I don't know why I still keep them.

But I do.

Along with numerous notes that I have zero intention of reading, there are concert tickets, more movie stubs, and a lot of photos. I don't want to look at those either because the memories hurt.

My eye catches a photo, and I can't help but reach for it. We're probably eighteen and have either graduated from high school or are about to. I flip it over for a date but don't see one. Looking back at the image, we're sitting in his dad's chair and Wade's wearing the infamous hat. He's looking at me while I'm smiling for the camera.

I focus on him and the way he's looking at me. If anyone saw this photo today, they'd easily say he was madly in love with me.

We were in love.

At least for another two years after this photo was taken.

I set the photo down and pause. There, on my bed is the ring pop he gave me after graduation with the promise of a proposal to come later. He had placed it on my pinky after I complained the plastic pinched my skin. All night, he showed everyone who came near us the rock he'd given me and they all made comments about how sweet it was.

We were going to get married and build a life . . . until I changed everything.

An errant tear falls. I wipe at my cheek and clear my throat before my emotions take over. With a heavy sigh, I scoop everything up and put it back in the box. The contents are out of order and the flowers lose even more petals. "Shit," I say as I take everything out again and reorganize them. I do my best to ignore the photos, to not look at Wade's face and remember how much I loved him.

Still do.

Every part of me wants to get over him. To move on and find someone I can share my life with. I know it's going to be near impossible to do it here. Either I need to move, or Wade does, and there's no way he's going to leave Magnolia Grove. He has a successful business here, his family is here, and it's clear I'm the one with an issue.

Wade has moved on. I need to do the same.

I've barely put the lid on the now reorganized box when there's a knock at the door. I frown, knowing I'm not expecting anyone, and hoping none of the Scouts are out selling things. I hate telling the kids no, but if I buy from one, I have to buy from all.

The box, along with the hat, stay on my bed while I make my way to the front door. There's another knock. "Coming," I say as I pick up the pace. I twist the doorknob without looking through the peephole and open the door to greet whoever is on the other side.

And wish I didn't.

"What are you doing here?"

Arm against the wall, Wade leans in smelling like a sex god, smirking, sleeves rolled up. Freshly showered.

Fuck me .

I swallow hard, hoping and praying he can't tell I'm bothered by him. He shouldn't bother me. We've been over for years. None of his antics should affect me.

But they do.

"How's my hat?"

"Is this some sort of visitation request?" I try to make light of the situation. If he wants his hat back, he can have it.

No, he can't . I don't even know why I offered. If he says yes, I'm going to tell him it's at the office.

But then, he'd go there, and I'd have to see him again.

How can I go from never seeing him, from purposely avoiding him for years, to now seeing and speaking to him twice in one day?

I didn't sign up for this. We're supposed to hate each other and not want to be friends or chat buddies, or even amical co whatever label someone would add. This isn't going to be WaLe part two.

"Maybe." Charm oozes off him in the way he tilts his head. He used to do this while we were dating. I'd like to say it's how I lost my virginity to him, but that would be a lie. The day we gave ourselves to each other was one of the best days of my life and I have no regrets.

I really don't want to give him his hat back. But I have no reason to keep it. Sentimental value only means something if you care.

I don't.

Or at least I need to stop caring. What we had is over and it has been for a long time.

Then why are you still standing there?

"I'll go get your hat."

I turn and walk away.

"Lemon—"

The way he says my name is smooth and sexy. It's how he's always said it, even when he begged me not to ends things between us. I stop in my tracks and close my eyes. Tears form. I pinch the bridge of my nose to ward them off.

Him being here, saying my name like nothing has happened between us, it hurts my heart. Life would be so much easier if I could turn around and jump into his arms. To press my lips to his and reignite my body with the fire it once felt when Wade and I were together.

And then I think of her.

Of Ana. A woman I have never met but looked up online because I'm that level of obsessed with the man standing in my doorway. She's gorgeous. Tall, blue eyes, blonde hair. Every man's dream of a perfect woman.

It's not hard to imagine Ana and Wade together. To anyone on the outside, it makes sense. But I take it a step farther and imagine them in bed, tangled in his sheets, with her leg over his hip and taking him in.

Then I see myself. Plain. Comfortable. I'm a routine or a habit. We didn't have the spark anymore, at least that's what I thought.

He says it was nothing like what he and I had together.

Wade graced me with the details, thinking they would make a difference. Telling me he didn't even take his pants or her clothes off completely. That when he finished, he cried in the bathroom because she wasn't who he wanted.

I was.

None of it mattered though because once I was ready to even think about getting back together, he spilled his guts. He had been with someone, and she was pregnant.

I no longer existed in Wade Jenkins' life.

Even if Wade and Ana weren't going to be together, there was no room for me.

Every part of me is tempted to turn around, to show him the tears I shed because of him. But I don't.

"Lemon," he says my name again. This time I hear the pain in his voice and imagine his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder. I turn my head slightly, in anticipation, but he's not standing behind me. If he was, my knees would be weak from the scent of his cologne.

"I can't." I can't even bring myself to say his name.

"I'm sorry," he says with a slight huff from the doorway. "You have no idea how sorry I am for everything. I didn't come for my hat or to upset you. I thought we could talk and give each other some closure."

Closure ? What the fuck is closure? Doesn't he understand that as long as I have to see his daughter every day, I'm reminded of what happened.

I take a step toward my room and then stop. He doesn't need his hat back. I can keep it. It means something to me even though I've had it buried in my closet for years. How come I brought it out today or all days? Shaking my head, I look down at the floor and then my toes. They're painted pink. I've always chosen some shade of pink for as long as I can remember, and Wade always liked it.

He clears his throat behind me, startling me. My hand covers my heart, and I work to steady my breathing. Having him this close is not good for either of us. I know I should turn around and face him, tell him to leave but I can't muster the strength. I don't want to see his puppy dog eyes or the tilt of his head. He'll flirt with me, to get me to bend to his will, and I can't have that. I've done a damn good job at shutting myself off from him, at keeping myself a mystery and I'm not giving in how.

"Why are you truly here?" I ask without turning to face him. It's better this way, then he won't see how affected I am by his presence.

There's rustling behind me and my heart races. Is he moving closer?

Shit .

"Lemon," he says my name softly and it reminds me of when we were together, right before he . . . nope, I can't go there. I pinch the bridge of my nose, take two steps forward, and turn around to face him.

"What?"

Wade jumps at my sudden outburst. On the inside, I'm laughing. Cackling even because I scared him. I work hard to mask my smile until I can't, and an odd sound flies out of my mouth. Before I can stop it, I snort, and cover my face in embarrassment.

"Don't," he says as he pulls my hands away from my face. "Hearing you laugh is one of the best sounds in the world, Lemon. I've missed it."

And just like that, the moment is ruined.

"You don't have the right to miss anything I do," I tell him.

"Okay," he says, dropping his hands and stepping back. He's so obedient. I want him to fight me. To yell and scream at me. He won't though. I know this. He's never been the type to yell at me. Other guys, for sure. Wade will stand up for my honor or the honor of any other woman out there, but he'd never yell.

"No, not okay. Stand up for yourself."

Wade takes another step back. "As I said, I'm not here to upset you, Lemon. I don't know what's going on or why you said what you did earlier. Honestly, your words confused me. I thought maybe . . . I don't know." Wade shrugs. "The whole closure thing."

"What on earth did I say that was so confusing?"

He looks confused and then finally says, "Something about how it's your business when you have to look at her every day and don't I care about how you feel."

"I didn't say that," I lie like a rug.

"You did. Maybe not those exact words, but you did, and I started to wonder what you mean by them."

"Nothing," I tell him. "I think you?—"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on, Lemon." Wade steps toward me. I inhale deeply, giving myself a moment to enjoy his cologne. As if on cue, my heart does this stupid little happy dance. Like it's rejoicing that Wade is here and we're miraculously going to make up.

I cross my arms over my chest and huff. This used to work when we were younger, but it doesn't even faze him. I suppose having an adolescent daughter makes him immune to childish behavior.

"Lemon."

I really hate and love the way he says my name.

"Can I ask you a question?"

I twirl my hand in the air for him to continue.

"Are you jealous of my daughter?"

Yes. Yes, I am.

I scoff and throw my head back to exaggerate my flippant attitude. "Come on. She's a child and I'm an adult."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he says. "Because why would you be jealous of Goldie. She's just a little kid who is innocent in all of this."

I nod, unable to find my voice.

Wade stands there, waiting for me to say something. When I don't respond, he shakes his head and leaves, closing the door behind him. Like I used to do when we dated, I run to the window and watch him. He descends the stairs and jumps into his truck. I expect him to peel out of the parking lot. Burning rubber, as he used to say. He doesn't.

He sits in the cab for what feels like forever.