Page 132 of The One

I needed to find a new gym.

Crap.

While my fingers hovered above the screen, I contemplated an excuse. Work, travel—anything. It was too much for my brain. I was just going to give him the truth.

Me

Hi, Charlie. I’m just going to be honest and tell you that I’m in a very weird place in my life. I’m grieving many things, and although I thought I might be ready to date, I’m not. I just can’t mentally handle it. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t mislead you. You’re a nice guy, and you’re going to find someone amazing.

Unknown

Wow. A woman who is finally honest about her feelings. I respect that. Best of luck, Lainey.

Me

Best of luck to you too.

That had gone better than I’d thought.

I slipped my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and finished washing the rest of the glasses, remembering the dream I’d had of Penelope, when we talked about Charlie and Rhett.

“He wanted a second date. Can you believe that, Pen?”

I wiped my hands on a dish towel, laughing at how often I talked to my sister. How, in my head, it felt like a completely normal thing to do. I wasn’t looking for a response. I certainly never heard one.

But in some wild way, it gave me comfort to say my thoughts to her out loud.

I walked out of the kitchen and into a mess of a living room. Boxes that I’d shipped from London were stacked against the wall. Pictures and art still needed to be hung. A dining room that had no table and a living room that needed a rug.

I sighed, bypassing the disaster and heading into my bedroom. There were more boxes in here. Fifteen years’ worthof clothes and memorabilia and things I’d collected during my travels had made its way across the pond.

“One at a time, right?”

The boxes were in stacks of four, and I grabbed one, placing it on the dresser—a homecoming gift from my parents, along with my bed, two nightstands, and a chaise lounge. They’d wanted me to feel cozy in my new apartment, ensuring I’d stay in the States and not move back abroad.

I pulled the tape free from the box and reached in, my hand digging past the paper that I’d stuffed in for protection. My nails hit something hard. I took out the small wooden jewelry box and set it in the center of the dresser. I’d bought it in India at one of the markets. It was hand-carved, the design along the top an intricate swirl of raised wood. I ran my fingers over it, tracing the dips and curves, and when I opened the lid, those same fingers went over my mouth.

With the jewelry box now in my hands, I backed up until the edge of the bed hit my legs, and I took a seat, holding it on top of my thighs. There were earrings and rings, necklaces, and bracelets filling the entire interior. None of them were overly expensive, just items I’d collected over the span of my life.

All except for one necklace that sat in the middle.

The diamondRthat Rhett had gifted to me.

There were times in the past when I’d tried to toss it or leave it in my old flat before I moved to a new one, making it someone else’s treasure.

But I never could.

That man would always be a part of me, and getting rid of the necklace wouldn’t change that.

Oh God, Rhett.

We were tied together by ropes and binds that were far stronger than the pain that had separated us.

I lifted the necklace out of the box and held it in my palm, remembering the day I’d finally taken it off.

It wasn’t on the plane to Spain or within the first few months of living in the apartment my parents had rented me, lost in a city, because I’d crawled from one dark life to another. It happened during the first week of school when a classmate asked me whoRwas.

A question that had completely thrown me off guard.