Arms Wide Open: a Novella by Juli Caldwell Read Free Book Online

rings, drowning out what he
whispers in my ear. I throw up in my mouth a little and swallow hard. He stands
and moves forward to kiss my cheek. “I hope we’ll see each other again soon,
Lauren. You and I have some unfinished business.”
    My nostrils flare. I am so tempted to
tell him off, but that won’t do any good. Instead, I grab my purse and my
little card, making sure he sees me mark ‘no’ next to his name and stalk away.
    It’s official: I can never eat cinnamon again. I
pull my phone out of my purse and rattle off a quick text to Harlow: You’re
dead to me.

The One
     
    I’m close to tears. Why does pushing
myself out of my comfort zone have to be so hard? It’s physically painful. My
chest hurts and my head pounds, and it’s hard to breathe. I’m feeling close to
where I was at the end of round one, with another panic attack knocking at the
back door.
    It’s not worth it. Finding someone just
isn’t worth the effort and sacrifices we make to find each other. Why am I even
here looking? I don’t need someone just for the sake of being with
someone....anyone! Dating is like dumpster diving—there may be something good
somewhere, but you have to sift through a ridiculous amount of disgusting
things to get there. The payback doesn’t seem worth getting covered in
figurative coffee grounds, half-eaten donuts, and banana peels.
    I look at the card in my hand and look
at my table number for Round 4. If the next one gives off anything like a
creeper vibe, I’m out of here. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life
living alone on my smelly sofa. I will find personal fulfillment in becoming
one with the furniture.
    A guy walks up to the table I’m watching
and sits down. His back is to me, and I can’t get a good look at his face. It’s
up by the front window and he’s looking out at the street, away from me, while
others in the shop work their way to their own tables to get started. They’re
blocking my view so I can’t get a good read on him. From the back he looks a
lot like Grant, and my heart does that crazy, irrational thud it always does
when I think of him.
    And then he turns around to scan the
crowd. My heart starts beating so hard it feels like it’s trying to pound its
way out of my rib cage.
    It is Grant!
    As the eyeball guy would say, he was the
one . I spent three years of my life believing that with all my soul. Grant
and I were so alike, so perfectly complementary, that no one else would ever
come close. Even great guys like Jeremy will never compare. When we were
together, I believed in soul mates. I believed in forever.
    I stare hard at the table number,
staying hidden in the shadows at the back of the shop while he turns back
around and waits. I take a closer look at my card just to make sure he’s my
next date. Yes, he’s sitting there at my table, waiting patiently for me to
show up.
    He looks amazing. I haven’t seen him in
five years now, not since the night he took me to the emergency room, dropped
me off, and walked away. As I think back to what I put him through those last
few months we were together, I guess I can’t blame him for not coming back.
    His hair is shorter now, cut close to
the back of his head, with some crazy sexy sideburns and a little lift on top.
I loved running my fingers through those brown curls back in the day. My mind
flashes to another time and I can feel those curls in my fingers, feel his soft
lips against mine, feel our hearts beating in time with each other. He turns
again to look around, those green eyes flashing. His impish grin is the same,
although I see the start of a smile line on one side of his face, and little
crinkles starting at the corners of his eyes. He’s tan, wearing a pair of loose
jeans and a burgundy dress shirt, collar open. He’s never looked so good.
    Seeing him soothes my panic, even though
it also makes it practically impossible to breathe. He was always the balm my
soul needed, especially right before my