Her hand is on her forehead; her breaths are labored and rushed.
I inch back so she doesn’t spot me.
The urge to go to her and take her in my arms is strong. That’s never diminished. It wouldn’t matter if five years or fifty years passed. This woman lives within me. She owns my heart to this day.
That won’t change, whether an ocean or my foolish stupidity separates us.
I watch as she slides her phone from her purse, her gaze dropping to the screen.
It’s next to her ear in an instant, her lips mouthing words that are rushed.
She looks around but doesn’t spot me standing next to a group of women who are debating which romantic comedy they want to see.
Katie’s eyes are focused on something closer; someone closer to her.
It’s a man.
It’s him.
His back is to me but his phone is against his ear too, and he’s headed right to Katie.
She smiles at him.
It’s not the same bright smile she used to give me, but it’s enough of a grin that I can tell that this guy is something special under his expensive black suit.
She drops her phone back in her purse. His is in his jacket pocket before he’s on her, and then his arms are around her, his lips pressing against her cheek.
I stand frozen in place watching a scene I never wanted to witness.
Rage consumes me.
I’m not pissed at the guy in the suit who is touching Katie. My anger is directed at myself. I’m the asshole who walked away from the beautiful blonde he can’t take his eyes off. I’m the jerk who didn’t tell her my truth back then.
I let her believe I didn’t want her, even though she’s the only woman on this earth that I’ve ever wanted.
His fingers slide down her bare arm until her hand is in his.
They set off down the sidewalk with him gazing down at her. His profile a reminder to me of what a smart man looks like.
If he hasn’t fallen in love with Katie yet, he’s on the edge.
It’s impossible not to fall in love with the woman, and once a man does, he’s lost to her for the rest of his life.
I should know.
***
“The rain doesn’t slow you down, Gage.”
I look over at Gus. He’s wearing an orange raincoat today. It’s seen better days. There’s a hole in the hood. A steady stream of the downpour that’s blanketed the city this morning is running down the side of his face.
I make a mental note to stop and pick up a new raincoat for him, size medium from the looks of it.
I scrub my hand over my forehead. “I thought I’d stay ahead of the rain on my bike, but it has no mercy.”
He glances over at my bike. I leaned it against a tree a few feet back from where we’re sitting.
“I didn’t expect to see you today.” I suck in a deep breath.