Page 3 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
But I have plans too, Hunter. I have goals and dreams, just like you. You’re not the only one who wants things.
Though right now, what I want most is to burrow into this couch, build a blanket fort, and cocoon in my apartment for a few weeks.
Except . . .
What the hell?
I won’t let him derail me.
I sit up straight; take a deep, fueling breath; and remind myself of my dreams. When I start my new job tomorrow, it’ll be the first step to becoming the best curator ever. Soon, my name will be known in Paris, London, Tokyo. My taste will be unparalleled. I’ll leverage it and write an incredible insider account of the greatest art forgeries of all time. It’ll vault to the top of the best-seller list, and then Christie’s or Sotheby’s will woo me.
I’ll be the queen of the art world.
Ha. Take that, Hunter.
He’s not the only one with blue whale-sized dreams.
So it’s time to do exactly what he’s doing. Make a clean break. To do that, I need a bona fide, foolproof plan to move on from the man you maybe kinda thought might have been “the one.”
I pick up my phone and call my friend Truly. “What is the fastest, most efficient way to get over a guy?”
Her answer gets right to the point. “Archery. Want me to find you a class?”
“Yes.”
Six months later, I’m a markswoman. At the archery range in Soho, I draw back the string, poised. A half year of practice has shaped my arm into steel. With lasers in my eyes, I put the target in my crosshairs and let the arrow fly.
It hits the center of the target with a satisfying thwap.
“And that’s how you score a hole in one.” I blow on my fingernails.
“It’s actually a bull’s-eye,” Truly deadpans. “But sure, hole in one works.”
I shimmy my shoulders. “It feels like a hole in one.”
She smiles. “Oh-so-good?”
I stare at the ceiling of the indoor range, considering her question. “Yeah. I’d have to give it a ten on a scale of one to ten.”
She smiles her approval, tugging her brunette ponytail tighter. “And on that scale, how high do we rate the officially-over-the-ex factor?
“Ex? Who’s that?”
“Well done.” She tops the praise with a slow clap.
“Thank you. Thank you very much.” I take an exaggerated bow. “In fact, I don’t even remember his name.”
She pumps a fist. “Yes! I knew my crash course in moving on would work its magic.” She rubs her palms together, cackling like a witch. “Now, if we can just conjure a rebound man for you.”
I stare at her like she just proposed we shoot the rest of the arrows while blindfolded and standing on tiptoe. “I might be over him, but I’m not interested in a rebound.”
“Why not? Rebounds are fun.”
“I’m sure they are, but for now, I’m a woman on a mission, climbing the ladder. My boss loves what I’ve been doing with the collections. My goal is to work my butt off so I can nab a promotion in a year or two, and before you know it, I’ll take over at the Met.”
“Goals. Work it.”
“It’s a good thing I have zero distractions.”
She studies me intently, as if she’s going to make a pronouncement. “That means you’re at one hundred, then.”
I shoot her a quizzical look as I reach for another arrow. “One hundred for what?”
“On the one-to-ten scale for being over your ex. You made it to one hundred, girl, and the scale doesn’t even go that high.”
“I’m an overachiever.”
I work my way through the rest of the arrows. Some skid across the floor, some graze the edge of the target, and a few more land close to the center. All remind me that I’m over that man.
I take aim once more.
When I started archery, I used to think of him. I thought of our promises, of our non-promises, of the hope he gave me, of the hope he dashed.
Now that’s all in the past, exactly where that mountain man will stay.
I don’t even know where he is.
The North Pole? Chile? Siberia? Who knows? Who cares? He couldn’t even tell me. Top secret expedition, whatever.
With the way that man wants to explore the world, I’ll probably never see him again.
Except I do see him. I see him splashed all over the news the next month when he saves the life of a billionaire businessman during a blizzard in Antarctica. Some tech genius from India who wanted to climb the Seven Summits. That must be the man who hired him and swore him to secrecy.
I’m guessing Mr. Billionaire is pretty damn glad he nabbed Hunter for the expedition.
Even in spite of my desire to excise him from my life, I can’t stop watching the reports. I can’t turn away from the story of his bravery, how Hunter—a last-minute addition to the crew, the reports say—fearlessly saved this man’s life on a dangerous peak in a vicious, unexpected storm.
