One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3) by Gillian Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

Macbook now that Kat’s gone, I figure I’ll lose myself in social media on the couch for a while rather than going off to toss and turn all alone in my new bedroom.
    After Kat left, I replayed her comments about Matt over and over in my mind to the point where I almost called him. I’ve been thinking about what to say to him, but I keep coming up empty. Do I apologize? Do I call or simply show up? Text and invite him for coffee?
    “Ugh, Felix. Why does this have to be so hard?” I scratch behind his ears, knowing it’s his fave. Poor guy didn’t dare come out from under the bed until hours after the movers and Kat had left. I think now that he sees our stuff unpacked, Felix is starting to see that it’s all right here, that he can relax a little bit. Purr, purr.
    I’d lost myself creeping Facebook, but now my hand moves of its own volition to the Gmail icon instead. “Don’t do it. Don’t do it to yourself.” I try to avoid the torture I know is coming, but of course we be stubborn so it’s to the draft box we go.
    “Your mama is stupid, Felix. You know this, right?” Purr, purr.
    I sigh and open up the first message in a folder dated August, two years ago…
    From: Claire Knox [email protected]
    To: Matty Bishop [email protected]
    Date: Sat, Aug 25 2013 at 1:17 am
    Subject: Words
    Matty,
    I don’t have the words to say to make what I did okay. Know I am sorry.
    X,
    Me
    As I pour over the hundreds of draft letters I’ve written to Matty over the last two years, I wonder if he’d be pissed if I sent them all now, instead of continuing to hoard them, keeping them as some sort of eTorture chamber. Unsent emails covering every holiday, remembering special days we’d shared, breakdowns I’d had, memories I felt the need to reminisce about with him, and most of all, a ton of letters expressing my regret. Letters all patiently waiting in chronological order, sitting in limbo, waiting to be claimed by their rightful owner. Kind of like me, I guess. Jeez, I really am in need of some serious therapy.
    From: Claire Knox [email protected]
    To: Matty Bishop [email protected]
    Date: Thurs, Oct 31 2013 at 11:27 pm
    Subject: Halloween
    Matty,
    Thought about our first Halloween party today. God, I miss you.
    Xox,
    Me
    From: Claire Knox [email protected]
    To: Matty Bishop [email protected]
    Date: Sun, Aug 24 2014 at 2:45 am
    Subject: you
    Matty,
    It’s been a year since I’ve been gone. I love my job, but hate myself without you. I creep you on Facebook and wonder if you think of me. I’ve dated a few nice guys, but it’s never you. I wish I was able to call you and talk. But I know you’d break me. Know I miss you.
    Xox,
    Me
    I should have sent these to him over the years. He deserved better; at least he would have known I was thinking of him. Maybe I could print them all and then he’d see that I didn’t just up and leave him without a second thought? He could at least see that he never entirely left my mind, my heart, so unlike the way I can only imagine he must feel: that I left him. Instead of sending or printing, I curl up for what seems like hours with regrets, wine—and the occasional purr—nearby, re-reading the letters I never sent. Then I type:
    From: Claire Knox [email protected]
    To: Matty Bishop [email protected]
    Date: Sat, July 11 2015 at 1:15am
    Subject: I’m home
    Matt,
    I’m home, and I’m scared to see you. I need to see you so much it hurts. I just don’t know what to say. My biggest fear is you’ll hate me, even though deep down I know you wouldn’t.
    X,
    Me
    With this one last draft—the one I contemplate sending most of all, but don’t—I close my laptop and grab Felix before heading to bed.
    As I lie there rehashing everything I’ve felt and thought over the last few years, I think I’m coming up with a bit more perspective. I never want to have to restore a broken heart again. I barely made it through the last renovations. Being on