Snow Falls

chapter Twenty-One



Jen fussed with the place settings, questioning her wisdom of inviting Brad over for a nice dinner when she planned to have the talk with him. It just seemed wrong to break up with him over tenderloin fillets and scalloped potatoes.

It wasn’t anything she was looking forward to, but she’d avoided him long enough. He surely had to know what was coming, but knowing Brad—ever the optimist—it probably never occurred to him that she was unhappy and wanted to end their relationship. Their romantic relationship, anyway. Brad was the first friend she’d made in college. And while she acknowledged that she’d changed, that they’d both changed, they still had much in common. She hoped they could remain friends, but she was prepared for him to exit her life entirely if that was his choice. That would hurt. She’d been intentionally avoiding him since she’d gotten back, but there still had been many a time she wanted to call him, to tell him something, to share something she’d seen or read, to tell him about the novel she was attempting to write.

She stared at her neatly set dinner table, picturing his face, imagining how hurt he would be.

“Maybe this is a mistake,” she whispered.

No. It wasn’t a mistake. And she wasn’t acting hastily. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with Ryan. In fact, she’d very nearly pushed all thoughts of Ryan away in the last few weeks.

Liar!

Regardless, it wasn’t a mistake. She’d known for months—years even—that Brad was not her soul mate, was not the person she was meant to spend her life with. There had to be more than this. She wanted more than this.

The sound of the doorbell startled her. Brad always just knocked so when she opened the door, she was surprised to find him standing there. She smiled at him, and though he returned it, she could see by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly what the evening would entail. Her smile faded quickly.

“Come in,” she said politely.

He held up a bottle of wine. “I know we don’t often have wine with dinner, but I thought we might need this.” He leaned closer and placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Don’t look so worried. It’s going to be fine.”

She sighed with relief. Brad hadn’t had his head stuck in the sand after all.

“Why don’t you open it?” she suggested. “Dinner is all but ready.”

He was as familiar with her kitchen as she was. They both enjoyed cooking, and they’d made many a meal together. She felt nostalgic as she watched him with the corkscrew. He was a handsome man, and when they’d first met in college, she often wondered why he wanted to be friends with her. She had still been in her awkward stage, hideous glasses and all. But friends they became. And eventually lovers. But as she watched him, she knew that part of their relationship had been a mistake. There had never been any passion between them, and had she been stronger and surer of herself, she wouldn’t have allowed their relationship to evolve as it had. She only hoped now they could salvage a friendship out of it all.

“You know, you’ve only told me bits and pieces about your stay in the mountains,” he said as he poured two glasses of wine. “Yet you didn’t seem disappointed you missed the workshop.”

“I was disappointed at first,” she said. “But there wasn’t anything I could do about it, and after seven weeks, well, I adjusted.” She took the glass he held out to her with a smile. “Thank you. I don’t know if I told you, but she was an editor. She gave me some tips on writing and was very willing to answer my many questions. I sort of feel like I did go to a workshop.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve changed,” he said simply.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“I think it took you being away so long and then coming back for me to notice just how much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I mean that in a good way. You look very confident. When I first met you, you were scared of your own shadow. In class, you sat away from everyone else, you wouldn’t look at anyone.”

“I was afraid to talk to people.”

He smiled and nodded. “I could tell how beautiful you were, even though you tried to hide it behind plain, outdated clothes and glasses.”

She laughed. “My plain, outdated clothes and glasses were all that I knew. Remember that book I read?”

“The wallflower one? Yes. It was awful,” he reminded her.

“I know. But it did get me to change my clothes. And eventually get contacts.”

“That your grandmother still thinks you wear.”

“Lasik? They would have considered that surgery a huge waste of money.”

“Have you spoken to her lately?”

Jen shook her head. “Not since I’ve been back. That’s horrible, I know, but we can’t have a normal conversation. I can’t tell her anything without her finding fault with it. And she still wants me to move back to Lubbock.”

“And your mother?”

“No. I haven’t spoken to her since...Christmas, I guess. And you know, we get along fine now, it’s just that we don’t have a whole lot to say to each other. I mean, she’s got a new life, new husband, new kids. We just don’t have much in common.” She motioned him away. “We should eat,” she said as she opened the oven.

“Oh, that smells good.” He peeked inside. “Your famous scalloped potatoes?”

She laughed. “I spent a fortune on the tenderloins and you’re more interested in my potatoes?”

“Yes. And if you’re really nice, you’ll send me home with leftovers.”

“Don’t I usually?”

“Yes, but...well,” he said with a shrug.

She met his eyes briefly, noting a touch of sadness there. She felt the same. “We’ll talk over dinner,” she said.

He helped her carry everything to the table, and she admitted it did look—and smell—good. She smiled with pleasure as he moaned after his first bite.

“Delicious,” he murmured.

“Thank you.” She’d made the scalloped potatoes because it was his favorite. It was her grandmother’s recipe, and even though she’d tweaked it a little to be a bit healthier, it was still delicious. So were the fillets; her knife cut through them like butter.

“Do you think we’ll still cook dinner together occasionally?”

She looked up, surprised.

“Earlier when I said you’d changed—I know what that means, Jen.”

She took a sip of her wine, enjoying the taste, delaying the inevitable. “I’ve been content,” she said. “Not necessarily unhappy, but not happy either.” She stared at him. “I think you’ve probably felt the same.”

“Content, yes. Happy? Happy enough, I suppose.”

“We started out as friends. For three years,” she said. “I’m not really sure when it became dating. I mean, we always went to the movies together. We always shared meals. When did we start calling it dating?”

“It was after a football game. Everyone was all excited that we’d won. And I kissed you.”

She laughed. “And you didn’t kiss me again for weeks,” she reminded him.

“That’s because you never acknowledged the first one.”

No, she hadn’t. That was because she wasn’t sure what it meant. Young and clueless, that was her. Even back then, his kiss brought no excitement or sexual arousal. Just like now. But she didn’t want to hurt him.

“I can’t keep doing this, Brad. You are one of my very best friends in the whole world, but I can’t convince myself—or you—that I’m in love with you. It’s not fair to you. You need to find someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved.”

He nodded. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know this day was coming. I’ve known it for years. I guess I just kept hoping that it would be enough.”

“Is it enough for you? Don’t you want that passion, that excitement that we’ve never had between us?”

“I know our sex life hasn’t been great. I just thought—”

“That it was enough?”

“I guess I was hoping it would change. That we would find it somehow.”

She smiled sadly. “Yes, I think we probably could find it. Just not with each other.”

He picked up his glass, but before he took a sip, he stared at her. “I have to ask. Is there someone else?”

“No, Brad. There’s no one else.” And that, she knew, was the truth.

He nodded. “So where do we go from here? Do we make an announcement to the group? You know Sherry and Michael are having their annual Memorial Day party.”

“You mean go to the party together and tell them we’re breaking up?”

“I mean we’ll go as friends. And tell them we’re having a civil breakup.” He grinned. “But just because we’re friends, that doesn’t mean I want to know about any dates you have. At least not for a while.”

“I was so dreading having this talk with you. Thank you for being so understanding.”

“I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I knew why; I just didn’t want to admit it.” He went back to his dinner and so did she. “You’re right, you know.”

“About?”

“About just being content. We were good companions and to me, that was more important than having a great sex life.”

Jen laughed. “Yes. That’s what they call friends.”