Never Got Over You

by Whitney G.

  “Which school is it?” I forced myself to smile.

  “Wharton School of Business. It’s in—”

  “Pennsylvania,” I finished the sentence for him. It was one of the most prestigious schools in the country, and plenty of my peers had bragged about getting past their nine percent acceptance rate. “It’s on the East Coast.”

  He nodded, still smiling, as if this was the best thing ever. “It’s a new, special program. I’ll be in the first cohort.”

  “You’ve already accepted their offer, and planned how you’re getting there?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “My neighbor is starting college early this summer and she’ll be staying in the dorms, but she said she’ll come back here every other weekend to put away my mail and look out for the place,” he said, taking a key from his pocket and handing it to me. “You’re welcome to come here anytime, though.”

  I swallowed. I selfishly wanted him to stay here and be within reach forever, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t fair. I also knew that I couldn’t bear to ask any more questions, at least not right now.

  “Congratulations, James.” I looked into his eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” He pulled me close and kissed me thoroughly, running his fingers through my hair. “I want to be the best man I can for you, when I ask you to marry me.” He sighed. “I’d ask you today, but ...” He shook his head. “I need to make sure I’m able to provide for you—Well, us, for the long term.”

  “We can just use my inheritance.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. “You know I would never accept that from you or anyone else.”

  “It’s free money.”

  “It’s unearned money.” He shook his head. “I prefer to work for mine, and you know that.”

  “I know.” I held back a sigh. “Are you going to torture me with the details now or later?”

  “Later,” he said, pulling me up. “Let’s go to my bedroom and get you in a better mood first ...”

  HE FED ME THE DETAILS in small doses over dinner, cracking a piece of my heart one sentence at a time.

  The program would start in three weeks, and he had enough money to sustain himself for at least three years—just in case it took him longer to complete the program than he thought. He would be living in a shared brownstone with a few other business majors, and they’d make overseas trips together for the first year—to study global markets and try to figure out what business they wanted to pursue the most.

  I did my best to smile as he spoke, but my poker face wasn’t strong enough. He had to stop and wipe my eyes with his fingertips every few minutes. I couldn’t even pretend to be happy when he finished speaking.

  By the time we were back on his boat, he was holding me against his chest and whispering assurances every few seconds. “It’s going to be alright, Kate. The program is only twenty-four months.”

  What? “Two years?”

  “I decided to tell you this last for a reason ...”

  “I wish you’d said it first. When did you find out? Months ago? Weeks ago?”

  He didn’t answer that question.

  “This feels like a rushed goodbye, James. Like you knew all along you were going to leave.”

  “I’ll come back during all the breaks and it’s not like we don’t have cell phones,” he said, hugging me tighter. “This is far from a goodbye, Kate. All you have to do is wait for me, and we’ll be back together in no time.”

  I wanted to believe that, wanted to cling to that promise and keep it close, but something told me that despite his pretty words, our forever was in jeopardy.

  ...

  Kate

  ~ June 30, 2009~

  I TRIED TO HOLD BACK tears as we rode to the airport, tried to keep my expression stoic, but it was no use. With every mile that he drove, my heart raced at an erratic, unsteady rhythm, and no amount of hand caresses from James could distract me.

  “Kate ...” James pulled the car over into the emergency lane. Putting it in in park, he wiped my tears with his fingertips. Then he cupped my face in his hands. “Kate, this isn’t the end of the world.”

  “I know.” I shook my head. “It’s much worse.”

  He let out a low laugh and pressed his lips against mine, giving me a deep, soul-searing kiss. “This is only temporary, Kate,” he whispered. “I’m doing this for us.”

  “But you don’t have to. My inheritance is thirteen million dollars.”

  “I know,” he said, kissing me again. “It’s also thirteen million reasons why your family will always have a hold on you. I won’t let anyone have a hold on me, Kate. I can’t live like that.”

  “Every time something good happens in my life, it never stays,” were the only words I could say.

  “I made a promise to you, Kate,” he said. “Have I ever broken one of those?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not ever.” He looked into my eyes. “All you have to do is wait for me, and it’ll be like it once was, sooner than you know it.” He tilted my chin up with his fingertips and looked into my eyes. “Can you promise to wait for me, for at least two years?”

  “Yes...” I let out a breath.” For as long as it takes.”

  I need you to listen

  James

  I WAS OFFICIALLY MORE confused and conflicted than I’d ever been.

  Every moment I was around Kate, I was torn between letting her in again and keeping her at a distance. I never detected deception in her eyes when we scraped the surface of the past, but she’d spent more than half her life being groomed on how to react, so I wasn’t completely sure.

  I’d left her Human Resources folder untouched for weeks, held back on opening the emails I sent to her graduate school and her touring company. I wanted to trust her and truly start over, for everything she said to make as much sense as my numbers did.

  It still doesn’t, though...

  I drove to my office late Saturday night and pulled the folder from my desk. I stared at it for several minutes, felt Blue tugging on my pants leg, as if he was begging me to walk away and let it go.

  I couldn’t.

  I checked my email first, opening the “Just Trust Her” folder.

  SUBJECT: STUDENT INFORMATION Request: Kate Kensington

  Yes, Kate Kensington was a student at our school, and she graduated magna cum laude.

  Edgewood Graduate School

  I DIDN’T BOTHER OPENING the Human Resources folder.

  I didn’t bother checking shit else.

  She’s probably been lying to me this whole time...

  It wasn’t just you

  Kate

  JAMES: Meet me at my condo at nine o’clock. I have a gift for you.

  Me: Okay. ☺ I have a gift for you, too.

  I made it to James’s condo twenty minutes early with a bottle of wine in tow. Tonight was supposed to be another one of our simple, “Let’s just watch a movie together and act like the past never happened” dates, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I needed to talk to him about why I “moved on,” and I wanted him to be completely honest about why he never came back.

  When I made it to his door, I could hear the familiar sounds of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 filling the air. Typing in the security code he gave me, I stepped inside and immediately dropped my bag to the floor.

  Standing straight ahead of me, right in front of the windows that overlooked the city, was my cello.

  I stared at it for several minutes, unsure of how to process seeing the one thing that still tied me to my old life. I walked over and ran my fingers along its sides— admiring the signature cuts and scratches I’d placed there over the years. Wary, I slid my hand under its bottom, feeling for the last carving I’d made, to be absolutely sure that it was mine.

  Mrs. Kate Garrett...Someday

  “DO YOU LIKE YOUR CELLO?” James strolled into the room, scotch glass in hand. “It took me awhile to track it down, and I hope it isn’t too damag
ed.”

  “It’s not damaged at all.” I plucked a string. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much, James. I appreciate this more than you’ll ever know.”

  He nodded, and tossed back the scotch.

  I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things, but he didn’t look happy to see me. He looked pissed.

  “Are you feeling okay tonight?” I asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You seem upset.”

  “I’m very upset.”

  “You just said you were fine.” I smiled, assuming he was mad about the sixteen people who caused him trouble all the time. “Is the board going behind your back and making decisions again?”

  “Not at all.” He crossed his arms, glaring at me. “In an ironic twist of fate, we’re actually getting along now. I’ve been invited to join them for Poker night.”

  “Well, you’re kind of ruining my cello reunion with your glaring over there.” I lifted my bow from its case. “Would some music make you feel better?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “You know, I never thought I’d say it, but this cello is the only part of the past I miss.”

  “I know.” He leaned back against his bookshelf, his jaw clenched. “Good to hear you finally say it, though.”

  “Jesus, James.” I shot him a look. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

  “Do I?”

  I dropped my bow to the floor. “What the hell is going on with you tonight? Did you honestly lure me over here to gift me a cello and fuck up the moment, or is this about something else?”

  “The cello isn’t your gift,” he said, pulling open a drawer and picking up a cardboard box. “This is your gift.”

  Intrigued, I stepped closer and took it from him. “What is it?”

  “The point of a gift is to open it for yourself, Kate,” he said, his voice cold. “Although, in your case, I doubt you’ll like what you receive.”

  I set the box on his bookshelf, not wanting to open it with a message like that, but I couldn’t resist. I pulled the flaps open and my stomach immediately dropped.

  There was a newspaper clipping about my engagement, a worn copy of The Edgewood Times that featured me and my ex-husband’s picture, and a copy of my wedding program.

  “This is like a little box of pain, James.” I looked at him. “Why would you keep all of this? Better yet, why the hell would you give this shit to me?”

  “It’s not all pain. There’s some happier stuff at the bottom.”

  I pushed around the reminders I never needed, and saw copies of every single postcard James had ever sent me. Underneath those were old photos of James and I swimming in the lake, postcards I’d sent to him while he was away, and—I stopped when I found a stack of pink and purple postcards that looked completely unfamiliar.

  They were addressed to him, from me, but none of them were in my handwriting. They were imitations at best.

  ~November 5th, 2009 ~

  Hey James,

  Just letting you know that I’m still waiting for you.

  Kate K.

  ~December 5th, 2009 ~

  Hey James,

  I love you so much. Hope you know I’m still waiting for you.

  Kate K.

  ~December 15th, 2009 ~

  Hey James

  I miss you more than you’ll ever know.

  Still waiting for you.

  Kate K.

  I WOULD NEVER SIGN my name like this...

  “For the record, Kate Kensington, I’m not over you.” He looked into my eyes. “But I’m over your lies and your betrayal.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “We can talk about what happened nine and a half years ago until we’re blue in the face, but I’ll never forgive you for marrying someone else. Ever. Especially, when you married him months after you were writing about waiting for me.”

  “James, this isn’t my handwriting.”

  “Okay, Kate. I’ve officially heard it all now.” He shook his head. “You can take your cello and go. I just wanted to properly end whatever ‘this’ is and let you know that I will be one hundred percent professional at work from here on out.”

  My blood was boiling and I was seconds away from slapping the hell out of him for being so damn cold. For luring me over here to break my heart again.

  “You’re so wrapped up in your own pain,” I said, my chest heaving up and down, “that you can’t bear to believe that I’m suffering, too.”

  “You have no idea what pain is Kate. No. fucking. idea.” He stepped in front of me, his gaze heated. “It’s watching the woman you love marry someone else on the same day you came back to propose to her.” He hissed. “It’s having to watch her kiss another man and promise her forever to him, after she spent months promising it to you.”

  “You were there?” I gasped. “At my wedding?”

  “Yes. Sadly, I was uninvited, but I was right there.” He trailed his hand against my arm. “By the way, your dress was stunning. It was a little more elaborate than what I envisioned you wearing for our wedding, but stunning all the same.”

  My heart dropped. “Why didn’t you come up to me and say something?”

  “What should I have said, Kate? Congratulations?”

  “I didn’t have a choice in marrying him, James.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

  “What I think is that you’re full of excuses.” He shook his head. “I also think I’m done trying, and I think it’s best if I just stop giving a fuck since you don’t seem to be apologetic about putting me through the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.

  “You can keep the fucking cello...” I moved past him. “I pawned it for a reason.” I walked away from him, and I wasn’t sure if I was ever coming back.

  ...

  James

  ~ February 13, 2010~

  I STEPPED OFF THE TRAIN and into the Pacific Northwest’s welcoming rains. The first thing I wanted to do was find Kate and explain everything. I knew she’d never understand why I had to leave for so long, but I also knew that she would’ve talked me out of it, if she knew the truth.

  I’d accepted a job on an oil rig to earn what I needed to propose to her—what I needed to secure starting our future together. The job was supposed to be offshore with plenty of cell and internet service, but the fine print left out the fact that the deal was only good for certain rigs. Mine wasn’t included. Still, though. At two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, I calculated that two years was more than enough for me to start my own business and make a name for myself.

  I was now armed with an engagement ring, borrowed time, and a puppy I’d named Blue. I’d barely slept the night before―waking up every half hour at the slightest rattle of the train tracks. I’d rehearsed my proposal so many times, that I could recite it backwards, in English and in French.

  As I drove into town, I tried not to think about where we would go from here. All I needed was for Kate to say yes, and we could figure out the rest together.

  I made my way to Edgewood Hotel and froze when I entered the lobby. The space was nearly unrecognizable. In place of the elegant, brown sitting chairs and dark, luxury couches, were rows of silver and white chairs. The high vaulted ceilings were adorned with flowy, white panels, and the usual red and pink rose arrangements that lined the columns were replaced with white lilies and baby’s breath.

  “You should have seen this place a few hours ago,” the hotel clerk said as I approached. “Prettiest party that I’ve never been invited to.”

  I laughed. “Let me guess, some filthy rich tourists just got married?”

  “Ha! No, this was beyond rich-ass tourists.” He smiled. “This was just the pre-wedding party for their out of town guests. I can’t even fathom how over the top the wedding will be.”

  I handed him my reservation confirmation. “Well, good to know that some things here are still the same.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged and handed me a pen. “The Ke
nsington and Harrison families uniting their dynasties once and for all shouldn’t surprise anyone from here, I’m sure.”

  “What?” I raised my eyebrow. “Who did you just say?”

  “The Kensington and Harrison families ...” He arched his brow, then he picked up a copy of The Edgewood Times and handed it to me. “Kate Kensington and Grant Harrison are getting married.”

  I heard his words, processed them slowly, but I didn’t believe anything until I saw them in print.

  In the paper, under a large picture of Kate kissing Grant, was the truth.

  We are pleased to formally announce the engagement of Grant Harrison, III and Kate Kensington.

  The official party to celebrate the occasion will be held at the Edgewood Hotel and open to the public.

  The wedding ceremony will be held, in private, at the Kensington Estate. We thank our friends, family, and Edgewood neighbors for their best wishes, and we look forward to building our future together.

  WHAT. THE. FUCK.

  I reread the words tons of times—hoping that I was stuck in some alternate form of reality. My blood was simmering and my heart felt like it was on fire.

  “Would you like one room key or two, sir?” The clerk’s voice made me look up.

  “Zero,” I said, stepping back. “I won’t be staying here.” I tucked the newspaper into my pocket and rushed to the exit doors.

  I needed to fucking breathe.

  I paced the sidewalk as my mind raced with questions. I knew there had to be some type of explanation for this shit, some grand reason why she would do this to me.

  She didn’t even think to tell me ...

  Needing to work off the steam, I decided not to hail a cab. I walked to the Kensington Estate, up the private and secret path Kate had shown me long ago.