While flashing everyone would be a story for the ages, I'd also never be able to show my face again. It was one thing to come crawling back to work after canceling your wedding at the last minute, but facing the masses after assaulting their eyes with your lady parts wasn't survivable. Even Lee and her smart mouth couldn't save me from that one.
I traveled along slowly, finally reaching the detergent aisle at the far end of the store. I scanned the powders, liquids, and pods, hoping they still had my preferred brand in stock. I wasn't picky about many things, but laundry soap was definitely one of them. I hated smelling like floral nonsense. I was all about fresh linen.
Unfortunately, someone spilled a container of one of my least favorite brands at some point, a wet floor sign cautioning those at the far end of the aisle as the aroma of fake floral meadows hung in the air.
I could hear a familiar voice chattering away in the distance. I couldn't quite make out the voice, but I knew it from somewhere. It was likely someone from my complex or a coworker, considering how familiar it was to my ears.
I continued my search, grumbling when I spied it on the top shelf. Even in heels, there was slim to no chance of reaching it. I eyed the shelving, debating scaling it like the tree monkey I had become. I had done it before. Just not in heels.
I could limp along and hope to find someone taller to help me. I could also go with another brand that would leave my clothes smelling like bathroom spray. Or I could hoof it up the shelves.
Screw it. I would make it up that shelf. I was tired of being on my feet. I plotted my attack, kicking off a heel to prepare for the climb.
“Elena?”
The familiar voice was clear as day and right behind me.
Every fiber of my being went on high alert, skin prickling as each hair stood on end. My stomach knotted in an instant, months of anxiety and heartache rushing back.
My careful avoidance came to a sudden halt in the laundry aisle of a department store with one shoe off. It wasn't quite the look I'd choose when facing an enemy, but I had no other choice at the moment.
I took a steadying breath, pretending not to hear a thing and hoping the monster would take the hint. My heart pounded out of my chest, the sound deafening.
Please. Go away. Do us both a favor and get lost.
A slow burn crept up my chest, the hot wave of anguish buried months earlier readily fleeing its not-so-final resting place. It moved to my throat, threatening to make it to my face and eventually, my eyes.
Don't cry, Elena. Don't you fucking dare.
“Elena?” he repeated. “Elena, is that you?”
His voice was higher pitched than I remembered but unmistakable. Paired with his trademark citrus cologne, I knew exactly who he was without looking.
I took another deep breath, releasing the sudden burst of tension that built in my throat. Another deep breath followed as I tried to reel in the tide of emotion.
I was avoiding the day for so long, but it was inevitable. I couldn't hide forever.
Quitting our gym and moving across the city had seemed to be enough. I had no idea why he was at that store when the condo was across town, but it didn't matter. I had to rip the bandaid off at some point.
I turned, forcing a neutral expression, facing my biggest mistake to date. “Justin?”
There he stood dressed in a blue and white striped polo and pressed khakis, feet sheathed in the hideous leather loafers I hated. Polished and brown, they looked like they belonged to an old academic, not a young professional.
While his fashion choices hadn't changed at all, his look had. His buzz cut was replaced with an overgrown mop top, and someone must have told him that a goatee looked good. Unfortunately for him, whoever it was, had lied.
“Oh, wow! It is you!” he breathed, flashing a friendly smile.
He stepped forward to come in for a hug, but I wedged the cart between us.
“Yep, it's me.” I wasn't interested in chitchat and hoped he'd get a damn clue.
He was scrawnier than I remembered, deflated compared to the men I preferred since our breakup.
Had he always been so awkward? I was slightly embarrassed to think I cried myself to sleep so long over a guy with the posture of a jumbo shrimp.
“You look great!” He looked me up and down, his smile stretching wider with each pass.
I ducked further behind the cart, shielding myself from his prying view. “Thanks?” I tried to keep a straight face but knew I had WTF written all over it.
Who cornered their ex-fiance in a store for some friendly banter? Especially an ex you dumped for another woman right before your wedding?
“No, seriously! You look amazing!” He kept looking me over, grinning like an idiot. “Have you been working out?”
I didn't know if he was being an asshole or serious. Was he blind or just fucking stupid?
“You look gorgeous!” he continued, fawning over me.
“Thanks, Justin.” I kept it short, hoping like hell he'd leave.
The whole thing made me want to throw up all over his ugly loafers, and the churning in my stomach made it an option. Turkey vultures puked to make unwanted visitors go away, and I didn't mind using the tactic if it made him piss off.
“How have you been?”
Oh, never better. Just in debt out my ass thanks to you, sleazeball.
I ignored his question, hoping he'd take the hint but held my ground firmly. I would get my damn detergent and be on my way once he put two and two together. I limped too far to go home empty-handed.
His face hardened,
