With Brett . . . I wouldn’t fall in love, I’d plummet.
A sheepish smile touches his lips, his fingers curling tight around mine, squeezing just enough but not so hard that the key between us will hurt my palm. “Yeah, I’m not sure it is either. But I’m okay with that. And I’m okay with waiting until you are, too. Just . . . please stop trying to push me away. I want to be in your life, and not because I feel obligated.”
An echo of what I said in that interview.
How is this happening to me?
These kinds of things don’t happen to me.
Suddenly I’m aware of our surroundings—as always, we’re out in the open. On display for everyone to watch. And I feel people stealing glances, out of simple curiosity, or hope, or even envy. I can’t think of the last time anyone envied me, and yet how couldn’t they now, as I sit here next to Brett, who, against all odds, is convinced that he wants me?
“Noooo!” Brenna’s wild giggles carry to us, pulling my attention away. She’s trying to outrun Jack and Keith as they both chase after her at a slow jog, her short legs moving impossibly fast as she tears around a tree. My parents, Emma, Lou, and Brett’s dad are standing together off to the side, laughing as she outmaneuvers the grown men, diving between Jack’s long legs and scrambling to her feet, to keep going, her pristine dress covered in grass stains that I doubt I’ll be able to get out.
Only half the crowd remains. I don’t doubt they’re lingering for a chance to speak to Brett.
“We should probably go over there, so you can greet your many fans.”
He sighs, then grabs his crutches and climbs to his feet. “Hey, isn’t that . . .” He frowns, off into the distance.
I know exactly who he’s looking at. I spotted Gord Mayberry’s oafish lumbering gait an hour ago, as we were escorted to the gazebo with the newspaper reporters. It was clear he was heading our way before Lou and Keith steered him away. “Yup. They invited the county’s business owners and Mayberry’s is a big dealership.” It hasn’t gone unnoticed that Scott Philips’s mother, a prominent Realtor, isn’t here. Whether she wasn’t invited or she chose not to come, I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.
Brett smirks. “So how did he take the breakup?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Right, the breakup. I don’t think he’s quite figured it out yet.”
“Didn’t he watch the interview?”
“Yeah, he did.” We walk toward the patio slowly, Brett picking his way carefully on the stone path. “He assumed that when I said ‘unsuccessful blind date’ I meant something else.” Somehow, Gord seems to think that there’s still hope for us. He’s shown up at Diamonds twice since. I shake my head. “Lou keeps apologizing for setting us up.” I’ll never understand why she did in the first place.
“Funny. Here I am thinking I should thank her for it,” Brett says with a laugh.
Because if it weren’t for that date, I wouldn’t have been driving along Old Cannery Road that night.
The realization suddenly makes me look at that idiot in a different light. A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. “So should I, I guess.”
Chapter 21
“He actually said that? He used those exact words?”
I knew I shouldn’t have been so honest with her. I guess I need to talk it out with someone, though, and Misty’s the only one I can do that with. “More or less.”
Misty growls her frustration. “I swear to God, Cath, I love you, but you’re going to drive me insane! Why are you not with him right now?”
“We need more time to talk. People wanted to meet him, and then Brenna was starving because of course she wouldn’t eat the food there, and then he had to get back to Philly . . .” Saying our goodbyes with family lingering close by hindered what I really wanted to say to him—that I want more than anything to be carefree like Misty and throw my heart into the ring.
I just . . . it’s not so easy for me to let go of control like that. Because that is what I’d be doing—letting go of control. Putting my heart is harm’s way.
But I did promise to answer the phone the next time he called.
“Yeah, meeting him would have been nice.” Misty scratches at a ketchup stain on the hem of her uniform, still bitter that Leroy dragged her back to Diamonds immediately after the ceremony ended. She drove straight here after her shift to interrogate me, not bothering to text or call in advance. I think, maybe, she was hoping he’d be here.
“I’ll introduce you next time.”
“Which is when, exactly?” I feel her eyes boring into my back as I take my time dunking a glass into sudsy water.
“I don’t know yet.”
I catch her rolling her eyes in the window’s reflection. “You know that no relationship is ever guaranteed.”
“I know.”
“Nothing good in life will ever come to you if you don’t take some risks.”
“I know.”
“The best things in life always come from taking risks.”
“Have you been reading those inspirational messages again?”
“It’s a great calendar: 365 quotes for 365 days.” She winks. “I’ll get you one for Christmas.”
“Listen, don’t tell anyone about this. It’s all up in the air.”
Misty releases a dreamy sigh, the rare, more serious side of her evaporating with her giggles. “Do you know how incredibly jealous I am of you right now? God, just think! What I would give to be able to kiss that man.” She pauses. “I’ve never been with a guy with a broken leg. Do you think you’ll have to wait to—”
“How are you doing in there, Brenna?” I holler extra loud, my cheeks flushing just thinking about what the first time with Brett would be like.
A splash sounds in the bathroom. “Yup! Almost done.”
“’Kay. Two more minutes.” Brenna would turn blue from cold if I let her, just so she could practice holding her breath underwater all night.
“Oh, I almost forgot. You’ll never guess who sent me a friend request on Facebook.”
“You’re right, I won’t.” I barely remember Facebook. I had an account in high school. But once the hateful messages started coming through, telling me what a skank and slut and liar I was, and how I deserved to die for trying to ruin Scott’s life, I deleted it. I haven’t so much as opened it since.
“DJ Harvey.”
The plate slips from my grasp and tumbles into the sink. “Isn’t he in jail?”
“No, he got out six months ago. He cut a deal so his sentence wasn’t as bad.” She says it so casually, as if she’s forgotten that he’s a scumbag, that not only was he dealing drugs while they were together, but also, after she dumped him, she found out he had been screwing around on her for most of the five months that they were together.
A bubble of discomfort rises inside me. Good ol’ social media. No one’s ever truly out of reach, anymore. “So . . . are you actually talking to him again?”