CHAPTER TEN PRESENT DAY

AINSLEY

I'm a horribleliar, nothing ever comes to me in the right moment. I hate that. And I'm totally the person that thinks of the witty comeback five minutes after the conversation ends. My mom used to say it's because I don't have a mean bone in my body. That was my mom. She believed the best about people.

She probably would've liked my date, Dr. Hottie, and thought his advice was sound. He said to remember Rhett, to think about him. I didn't have much of a comeback for that. No lie could take away my tears or save that wretched first date.

I figure I've got exactly two hours before my phone rings, Skye wondering how it all went down. Tearing off my dress, I unhook my false advertising bra, tossing it in the hamper. Yes, I know you should wash them separately and hang them to dry, but seriously, who does that? I reach for my bathrobe, my eyes landing on a box in the top of the closet. Does everyone keep a breakup box? Imagine if you kept a box for every ex-boyfriend you had. Good Lord, some women would need an extra storage unit. But I only have the one.

Rhett.

The breakup box.

I put the lid on it and haven't opened it since. I'm not sure what's closed up tighter, that box or my heart. Do I need to open that box to open my heart?

Do I want to open my heart again?

Gently, I carry it over to my bed, setting it down. Tucking my feet under me, I place my hands on top, trying to remember the last thing I stuck in there, so I'll have some idea what's facing me. Our relationship was mostly secret, so there's not a lot of the typical stuff. No concert stubs or dried out flowers from our first date. You won't find a heart balloon or a mixed tape (not that people actually do those anymore), but you get the idea. I take a deep breath and open the lid to my past. My first sketchpad is on top, the one he gave me not long after I moved in with my brother and him. I wonder if he knew how much that meant to me. How much that influenced my life. I doubt I would be a wedding dress designer if he hadn't given me that pad, believed in me. I never told him that. Flipping open the cover, I run my fingers across his handwriting. It's a small piece of him. One of the few I still have.

Placing it aside, I look down and find his pale blue eyes, and I swear he's staring right at me. Pulling out a picture of Skye, Rhett, and Brody from the box, I remember the day exactly—my sixteenth birthday. They were all standing around me in front of my first car. Even Sadie's in the picture. They'd all taken turns teaching me how to drive. Skye had taken me for just the right sunglasses, while Brody insisted I learn on a stick and automatic. It was Rhett who got him to back off and let up a little.