So it had all been planned. It was smart and it took time. Gert knew with certainty that the entire persona Caroline presented to her from the get-go had been nothing more than a facade, a way to test Gert's heart to see if she was victim material.
She loved people. She always had. She loved them to a fault, even when she didn't like them much. She could make a friend out of a turd, her Uncle Harold use to say. She had made friends with a couple of them. As Caroline and Brandon continued to discuss the situation, Gert learned Mike really only had the intent to keep her there until closing; to befriend her. It was all he was to do.
She learned his heart was broken. She learned he made a pact with his goldfish, who couldn't pinkie swear.
All she knew to do, since she couldn't call him, was to go to that bar. He certainly didn't hang out their regularly, but maybe, just maybe she could smell the way he smelled that night. Probably she couldn't smell, but she could remember. His smell, his smile, and his eyes. Gert floated into the the Goth bar called Forever Night, and there, in the same booth, was Mike.
She sat with him, upon him, smelling him and swearing she could. She was amused at the goosebumps her presence brought him, and she thanked God for letting her know love before that steamroller hit her, even if she only knew love for a few hours. He was absolutely worth it.