“Look, Ambrose,” I began, after he’d waved the family to the path. “I know this is awkward.”
“Awkward?” he replied, shaking that curl out of his face. “Why, because I basically declared my undying love for you and you walked away, never to be seen again until, well, now? How is that awkward?”
This was a lot to hear at once, so it took me a second to unpack it. Finally I said, “You didn’t declare your undying love. You asked me about Ethan.”
“I was working up to it,” he replied. “I had to apologize first. I was processing the information I’d just heard.”
“Ambrose—”
“It was a two-pronged approach,” he continued. “I didn’t think you’d take off before I had a chance to finish.”
“Two-pronged?” I said. “You make it sound like a utensil.”
“Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t a bad breakup you were reeling from?” he demanded. “I didn’t know what I was up against. I had no idea what you needed.”
“It’s not your job to give me what I need,” I said. “And—”
“Excuse me, is the reception in this building?” a man in a seersucker suit asked from behind us.
“Around back,” Ambrose said immediately, jabbing a finger. The man, looking apologetic, scurried off.
“Don’t take this out on the guests,” I said. “It’s me you’re mad at, remember?”
“But that’s the thing, Louna. I’m not.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Look. I know this isn’t the time or place for this, but I’m going to say it anyway. I liked you from the start. Okay? That first day, my mom’s wedding, when you grabbed me and dragged me inside, that was the beginning for me. It’s why I asked you to dance. It’s why I went out on the floor at that stupid party when Jughead was mauling you. It’s why I did everything: the job, the bet, all of it. If I won, I was going to pick me for your next date, even if I was supposed to still be with someone else. I figured if there was no other way, then you’d have to give me a chance.”
I blinked, trying to process this. “But you were so into Lauren.”
“She was—is—great,” he said. “And we had a couple of great, epic nights together. But it was you I looked forward to seeing every day, you I wanted to hang out with even when this job was boring and stressful. I just didn’t know how to tell you, until that night at the dollar store when you said we were friends and you wanted me to be happy.”
“You knew we were friends,” I said softly.
“I hoped we were,” he replied. More cars were coming into the lot now, the bulk of the guests arriving. “When you said it, though, I saw a chance. Like an opening, big enough to wriggle through. That’s what I told Jilly, at the truck, that I’d been crazy about you all summer, but I knew you’d been hurt and wanted to be careful, to do things right. And she said it would be hard to compete with Ethan, for all kinds of reasons, so I should just be myself. I didn’t get what she meant. So I asked her to explain.”
Again, Ethan was there with us. It was like I could feel it. “I loved him so much,” I said. “No one can ever understand what losing him was like.”
“That’s the thing, though.” He exhaled, looking down. “I wasn’t trying to get what it was about him. I just felt that finally, maybe, I was starting to understand you.”
Oh, God, I thought, and just as suddenly felt a pang of pure fear, a reaction to this idea of opening myself up again to all the things that could then hurt me. Lightning didn’t strike twice, except when it did. How could I allow myself back into that place of sunset walks and once and for all without expecting what had already followed? It was scarier than anything. Except maybe not doing it, at all.
“Excuse me—”
“Around back!” Ambrose hollered, turning to face the crowd making its way from the lot. “The reception is in the backyard!”
“You’re yelling at the guests,” I said quietly.
“Sorry!” he shouted. Then he looked at me again, his face serious. “I wish you had stayed there, in front of me, that night. That you hadn’t taken off.”
I wish for a lot of things, I wanted to say, and yet I’d told him otherwise, and now it seemed wrong to change my mind. “But I did. And now . . .”
I didn’t finish this sentence, and he didn’t either. We just stood there, guests streaming past, following the crowd ahead of them in, finally, the proper direction. In the night there would be dancing dogs, clowns, giddy toasts, and teary good-byes. All of this ahead, yet to unfold. Beginnings were always the best.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him. “About not telling you. And leaving. And everything else.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he replied. He swallowed, looking across the lot. “Next time I’ll know to say how I feel first. Not bury the lead.”
“And I,” I added, “will be upfront about the things that really matter. No surprises.”
We looked at each other again. A man in a bow tie behind Ambrose paused, looking around him, then started to follow the path, going the right way.
“Well,” he said after a moment. “The good news is we will be really good to whomever we date next. You’re welcome.”
“Right back at you,” I said, then smiled. “Take care, Ambrose.”
“You, too,” he replied. “Bye, Louna.”
Then I walked away, across the lot to my car, and that was that. A proper good-bye. No one dashing away or leaving angry. No yelling or sudden, shattering disappearances, with everything left unfinished. It was new for me, as so much had been with Ambrose from the start, and it felt like this should make me feel better, more at peace. But as I climbed behind the wheel, I began to cry.
After all that, I needed something before seeing Ben. I decided it was coffee.
Jump Java was quieter in the evening, and luckily Leo wasn’t working. There wasn’t even a line. But Phone Lady was still there, at a table for one, talking away.
“Tall latte with extra foam,” I told the barista, an Asian girl with a cute pixie haircut. As she nodded, turning to start making it, I decided I’d have a doughnut, too. You want what you want, and sometimes, it’s sugar.
“That’s just the thing,” I could hear Phone Lady saying, her voice louder than ever in the less crowded space. “I never thought I would be dealing with all this. I had everything worked out, down to the minute. Yeah. Best laid plans . . .”
I looked at the clock by the espresso machine: it was just after seven. I was supposed to go by Jumbo Smoothie, pick up Ben, and then we’d head to dinner with some of his friends before hitting yet another party. Normally I liked the idea of a whole night still ahead of me. But right at that moment, I felt tired. And Phone Lady was still talking.
“No, I’m thinking I need to focus on me. You know, self-care. Everything’s been so hard lately, and I just can’t devote time to another person. Right?”
The pixie barista turned back to me, sliding my cup across the counter. I was just about to ask for that doughnut when the door banged open. A group of women in workout wear carrying yoga mats came in, all talking at once.