“Want to grab something to eat?” Erin asks.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Angie.” She sighs. “You’re miserable here.”

I’m miserable in general. Who knew that heartbreak could hurt so bad? I always thought people were just dramatic. I never could grasp how they couldn’t move on when a relationship didn’t work out. Now, I get it. I so get it.

“I feel like I’ve lost everything.” I say. “I know I haven’t. I mean, I have the store, you, Presley and the boys back there. I’m sure I’ll snap out of it.”

“Have you thought about calling him?”

Every. Fucking. Day. “I made it perfectly clear how I felt. He did the same.”

I promised Presley I would definitely see her in a few months. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to do it, but I’ll be at her wedding. Somehow, I’ll find a way to get there and be fine when I see him.

I’m guessing copious amounts of alcohol will be consumed.

“I hate this for you.” Erin’s sweet voice tries to comfort me. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”

When I lost the baby, Erin became extremely understanding. She explained that she really wanted to move forward, but as time went on, she got it. I think it had a lot to do with the guy she’s falling head over heels for, but I won’t point that out. She’s happy, and I’m happy for her.

I look around at the empty space, thinking that it represents how I feel. I’m vacant inside. “Well, we don’t have to do anything if we don’t want to. It’s kind of a great place to be. The store is really self-sufficient with the new manager. If we want to expand, we can, or we can keep it as is.”

Erin’s phone rings, and by the smile on her face, I know it’s the guy she’s seeing. She puts her finger up to say one minute, and I step outside and onto the sidewalk. It’s a really great spot and is closer to downtown than our other store. It’s also closer to my apartment. Media isn’t far from me, but I’d love to have the option to walk to work if I want.

I take a step back and bump into someone. “I’m so sorry!” I start to say, but my eyes meet someone I know.

“Angie?” Nate smiles.

“Nate. Hi!”

“You’re back.” He steps forward and pulls me into his arms. “I’ve been wondering how you were doing.” He glances to my stomach, which should have been very pregnant. Last time he heard from me, I was knocked up and leaving for Tennessee.

“There was an accident,” I explain before he can ask.

Nate stands there with sadness in his eyes as I give him the cliff notes of what led me back here. He takes my arm and leads me over to a bench when I start to choke up. We sit, and I do my best not to lose it.

“I’m truly sorry, Ang.” Nate shakes his head. “Are you and the guy . . .”

I shrug, knowing exactly what he’s too hesitant to finish asking. “He was driving and took it hard.”

He nods. “Guilt is a hard thing to live with. I see it with the parents a lot. They feel like it was something they did during their pregnancy or genetics. It tears apart a lot of relationships.”

“I guess. Enough about me. What about you? Seeing anyone special?”

Nate chuckles. “I’ve yet to find that girl who can put up with my need to always work. I struggle with guilt as well. When I’m at home, I think about the patients I could be helping.”

We talk a little more about what I’ve missed, which is nothing really. He tells me about some of the kids he’s been working with and how he lost one recently. It’s the truth when I make a comment that some girl is going to kick herself for not finding him sooner.

“Tell me about—” he starts to say, but his phone goes off. “Excuse me a minute.”

Nate stands and speaks quickly to the person on the other line. I think about how different this conversation could’ve gone if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. Would we be sitting and having a lunch date? Would we even still have been seeing each other? I want him to find someone and be happy, and I don’t think I was ever that girl for him. Nate is a lot like I am when it comes to keeping himself safe. He “dates” girls who aren’t serious and becomes more of a friend than a lover.

He’s nothing like Wyatt. No, that man forced himself into my heart. He made me see what life could be like if I love someone. How things seem better. Everything feels more real. Then he showed me how much it hurts when it’s taken away.

I won’t cry. I won’t cry.

He ends his call and walks back to me. “I hate to run, but I need to get back to the hospital.”

“Of course.” I smile.

“It was great seeing you.” He kisses my cheek and then adds, “Maybe we can do dinner?”

The last thing I ever want to do is lead him on. “Maybe.” I know he reads the wariness in my eyes.

“Not like that. But we were good friends once, Ang.”

And we were. It was the thing I loved about being around him. We could never be more, but he’s a good guy. “We’ll always be friends.” I promise. “You should get going.”

“If you need anything . . .”

“I know where to find you,” I finish automatically. It’s what he always says to me before he leaves, and even though I won’t call him, it’s still sweet.

Erin comes out and hooks her arm in mine. “Let’s go get some cupcakes and talk about what we want to do.”

I look at Nate’s back as he walks away. “Okay. Time to move in one direction.”

I need to let go of what could’ve been. Wyatt let me go, and now I need to do the same.

It’s time to move on. I don’t want to love someone who doesn’t want me.

“So you lost the baby and didn’t call me?” Mother sounds taken aback.

“Nope. I didn’t think you cared.”

I’ve had the day from hell. I figured I might as well add to it. Erin and I decided to pass on the location. They started trying to nickel and dime us. It wasn’t worth the additional cost to renovate with them already trying to squeeze what they could out of us. Then, I spilled coffee down the front of my white dress. I got my shoe stuck in a grate, and I busted out in random tears when “Rhinestone Cowboy” played on the radio.

“Angelina,” she chides. “Of course I care. It was my grandchild.”

“No, Mom. It wasn’t. You didn’t know or care. You say awful things to me and treat me like I’m the shit on your shoes, and I’m over it.” I’m on a roll, so I continue to spill whatever’s on my mind. “Look, I’m tired of being your whipping post. I’ve endured this from you my entire life. I thought if maybe I took it long enough, you’d stop dishing it out, but you haven’t. You don’t care about me. You don’t care about the baby I lost or the man who didn’t love me. You don’t care. So, I’m going to stop this.”

“Excuse me?” She gasps.

“I’m going to stop doing this to myself.”

I’ve learned that this isn’t the kind of relationship I want. She’s toxic, and I’m not going to be contaminated by her hate anymore. My life isn’t hers to ruin. I’ve done a bang-up job of that on my own.