The Pain in Loving You

by Steiner, Kandi

  And when they were gone, the air crackled to life, and I turned to find Tyler staring at me in a way he never had before.

  Pain was etched into every feature, and even though he wore sunglasses, I could see how tired he was. His mouth was flat, his jaw tense, hands in the pockets of his board shorts. But where there had always been a longing in his gaze before, I only felt anger rolling off him now.

  It was as if I disgusted him, as if my mere presence was the bane of his existence.

  “Morgan said she can tell something is off between us,” I said, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin, talking to him like nothing had happened in my room just two nights prior. “I feel like we’ve been doing a pretty good job avoiding each other, but maybe we should put on our happy faces. At least for the next couple of days. And af—”

  “Why isn’t Jacob here?”

  His words sliced through mine effortlessly, and I stood there with my mouth open, mid-sentence, completely forgetting what I was going to say.

  Tyler’s gaze didn’t waver. It pierced through me even with the dark lenses of his shades shielding me from those deep brown eyes of his.

  “Jasmine,” he said, his voice low, and I shivered at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue the way it had the night he took me in my room. He stepped forward, into my space, his calm demeanor somehow more threatening than if he were screaming. “Why. Is. Jacob. Not. Here?”

  He said each word slowly, with punctuation and assumption, and I swallowed, looking out over the water as my ribcage squeezed painfully around my lungs.

  “Because I broke up with him.”

  I kept my eyes on the water for a long time, waiting for a response, but none came. My chest burned with every passing second, something between a longing for Tyler to hold me, and a need for him to never look at me again warring with each other inside my soul.

  When I finally turned to look at him, his expression was unreadable.

  He was stoic, as always, and I hated him for being so unaffected.

  I sniffed, crossing my arms over my stomach as I pulled us both back to what was important. “Tomorrow is the biggest day of your sister’s life, okay? And she needs us. So, let’s just… let’s be here for her.”

  I didn’t wait for a response this time, just looked at him once more to drive my point home, and then I turned on my heel, making a beeline for my beach chair.

  I flopped down into it with a sigh of relief, squeezing my eyes shut as my heart hammered in my chest. I even pressed my fingertips into my hot, oiled-up skin that covered my heart, as if that would somehow help, as if I could physically relieve the pressure with the right touch.

  When I opened my eyes and reached for my drink, I found my aunt looking at me with that same arched brow I’d left her with.

  “Oh, Jazzy,” she said softly, shaking her head. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  • • •

  Later that night, after the sun had set over the welcome beach party and all the wedding guests had slowly made their way inside their respective houses, Aunt Laura sat on my bed with a glass of red wine and a plate of cheese she’d snatched from the party. She tossed one cube in her mouth, not bothering to chew it completely before she tucked her legs under her and pointed at my chest. “Alright. Start talking.”

  The sight stung my chest in a way I wasn’t expecting, because I could remember so many nights when I was in high school and she’d said those exact words to me. Aunt Laura was in tune with me like no one else, and she always knew when something was bothering me — whether it was the absence of my parents, a boy at school, homework, something with Morgan or another friend. She could always see it, and she always seemed to have the answer to everything.

  But I had a feeling she wouldn’t have an answer for this.

  “Where do you want me to start?” I asked, folding my own legs under me to match her.

  “How about telling me why your plus one is missing in action?”

  I swallowed, glancing at the dresser where the flowers Jacob had surprised me with once sat. My chest immediately caught fire, because the next memory was a flash of Tyler’s hands on my hips, spreading my legs until that vase of flowers clamored to the floor.

  “I broke up with him,” I whispered.

  “Clearly. But why?”

  I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling as they filled with tears, but it was no use, and when I looked at my aunt, I broke with my admission. “Because I’m in love with Tyler.”

  Her next breath came like a long, cool breeze, her eyebrows folding together. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Trust me,” I said on a bitter laugh. “You weren’t the only one.”

  Aunt Laura reached forward to squeeze my wrist, and then she asked me to start from the beginning — from the very beginning — and so I did.

  For two hours, I rehashed every single moment that had led to the very one we existed in. I told her about that day when Mom left, about how he’d called what we’d done a mistake, how I’d spent years trying to forget him and this place, only to come back for Morgan’s wedding and be completely thrown by him again. I told her about Morgan’s confession, that it had actually been she who told Tyler to stay away from me, and how that had changed everything for me.

  All that time, I thought he didn’t want me.

  And when I realized he did, there was no turning back.

  I watched every emotion pass over my aunt’s face as I recounted the years with Tyler, everything from surprise and disappointment to sorrow and understanding. And when I’d finally caught her up, I fell back into the comforter of my bed beside where she sat, my eyes on the ceiling, chest tight and skin hot to the touch.

  “Well,” she said after a long while, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m not proud of you for falling into temptation, for doing what you did with Tyler when you both had someone else.”

  I felt her disappointment in me like a shotgun to the heart, the shell splintering off and damaging every part of me that I was somehow still holding together.

  “But,” she continued, reaching out to run her fingers through my hair. “I am proud of you for realizing you couldn’t be what Jacob deserved, or give him what he was giving you. I know that conversation must have been hard, but you did the right thing in letting him go, and in telling him the truth.”

  I blew out a breath, nodding as my eyes filled with tears.

  “He was a good man to you,” she whispered. “It breaks my heart that you couldn’t see that.”

  “I could,” I argued, rolling over to face her. “I still can, Al. That’s the problem. It didn’t matter how good Jacob was, how good anyone was or would have been. It’s always been Tyler.” I shook my head, throat tight. “And I didn’t realize how much he still had a grip on me, not until I was standing right in front of him again after convincing myself that he meant nothing to me for seven long years.”

  She swept my hair from my face, watching me with pinched brows. “Have you talked to him? Since Azra got here?”

  I sighed, because I’d purposefully omitted the last conversation I’d had with Tyler in this very room — mostly because I looked back on it now, wondering what the hell I was thinking. “Yes,” I confessed. “He followed me up here, and I told him we couldn’t be together. I told him it was a mistake. He had Azra, and I had Jacob, and we couldn’t break any more hearts pining over something rooted in our past.”

  “But you already knew you were going to break up with Jacob.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want Tyler. You still love him.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, wincing at the painful shrinking of my heart.

  Aunt Laura let out a long sigh, and she tugged on my hands until I was upright again and facing her. She held my hands in hers, staring at where our fingers locked together with a strange smile on her face.

  “You know, you remind me of your mother sometimes. Of when she was younger.”

  My throat was sticky and dr
y, emotion strangling me at her words. Part of me leaned into it, longing to hear more about how I was like the woman who had made me. The other part of me wanted to scream and throw things, to never speak about the woman who had left me.

  “How so?”

  “She always put others before herself,” Aunt Laura said, but a knowing laugh puffed from her nose. “But not always in the right way. She just always felt like she knew what was best for everyone she loved, and once she made up her mind, that was it. There was no talking her out of it. You could tell her what you wanted, what you needed, but if she saw it another way, there was no convincing her. She’d think you were lying to save her emotions, or trying to make her life easier.” She shook her head. “My sister made life hard for herself, harder than it needed to be, all under the pretense of helping others.”

  My stomach knotted, and I thought about what I could remember of my mom, of the choices she made, not just for herself, but for us as a family unit.

  “What I’m trying to say is that you only have two choices here, Jazzy,” Aunt Laura said, bending to look me in the eyes. “You either fight for Tyler, or you let him go.”

  I shook my head. “But I can’t—”

  “You have a choice,” she argued before I could get my sentence out. “Whether it’s an easy one to make or not is a completely different story, but the decision is not already made for you. There are consequences on either side of this, whether you run to him or walk away from him forever. But all I ask is that you don’t make the decision based on what you think he wants or needs, or on what you think will be better for his family, or for Azra, or for anyone else. You can’t project what you don’t know for sure. And making a decision based on possible negative outcomes only puts fear in the driver’s seat of your life, my girl.” She paused, shaking her head. “Trust me when I say you don’t want that.”

  I rolled my lips together, looking out the window over the dark ocean before I found my aunt’s gaze again. “What do I do? Which one is the right choice?”

  “I can’t answer that for you,” she said softly, regrettably. “Only you can. And like I said, there’s no easy right or wrong, no simple path on the other side of whatever decision you do make. You just have to decide which one you want to walk, and whether you want to walk it alone, or with him.”

  “And if he denies me?”

  Aunt Laura shrugged, and I almost laughed, because it was somehow painstakingly funny that I was in this situation.

  There was no answer to be handed to me on a gold platter, no magic words to make everything okay. And even after my aunt had kissed me on the cheek and left my room to go to her own, I lie awake on top of my bedspread with my eyes on the ceiling, thinking over all she’d said, over all I’d been through, over all the different factors that played into the two paths I could take from this moment on.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  That was the plain, stupid truth of it. I felt my soul ripped in half, in two equal, shredded parts — one pulling me toward walking away from Tyler and leaving him to his happiness with Azra, and one yanking me toward throwing myself at his feet and begging him to walk away from everything safe and comfortable, and fall right into sin with me.

  I loved him enough to let him go, and that was what felt right to me.

  But I also loved him enough to be selfish, to keep him for my own — consequences be damned.

  The sick thing was that I could close my eyes and see both paths play out in living color. I could see me leaving Tyler and this town behind again, going back to California, rebuilding, finding myself, moving on.

  I could see me running to him, him breaking Azra’s heart, his family casting their disappointed stares on us, and us working to re-earn their trust.

  But perhaps what scenario I saw the clearest was the one my aunt had just called me out for, the one driven by fear. Because I could see, clearer than anything, me confessing my love to Tyler and him telling me I was too late.

  Or that he didn’t want me.

  That he wanted Azra, and I was right, that night between us had been a mistake.

  I choked on a sob — that was how real it played out in my head. And when I rolled to one side on a sigh, I reached over and turned off the lamp beside my bed, crawling into the covers with my heart still heavy and bruised.

  One thing I knew for sure was that the answer wouldn’t come overnight, and that it didn’t need to. Tomorrow was about my best friend getting married. Tomorrow was about Morgan and Oliver swearing to love each other forever in front of all their friends and family.

  Tomorrow was not about me.

  And maybe that’s what I needed. I could throw myself into Morgan’s big day tomorrow, be there for her, celebrate her, and then get on the plane that would take me back home to California. There, I could clear my head. There, I could be alone with my thoughts — truly alone, without pressure from Tyler, or Azra, or Jacob, or anyone else being around.

  There, I could make my choice.

  I only hoped I’d find the courage to make the right one.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THERE WAS MAGIC IN the air when I woke the next morning, and every hard and heavy thing that had weighed on me seemed to lift as soon as my eyelids fluttered open. I smiled, dressing quickly in the soft pink bridesmaid robe and slippers Morgan had set out for me, and running down the stairs to the kitchen. I poured up two mimosas, and then ran into her bedroom on the first floor and leaped on top of her with her head still buried under the covers.

  “YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!”

  I shook her and squeezed her until her sleepy smile came to life, and she started squealing with me, and before I knew it, we were tearing up and laughing and clinking our glasses together, toasting to a great day and a beautiful future.

  “I just want you to know that today is going to go by fast,” I told her when we were sipping the juice and champagne, the rising sun just barely peeking in her room. “Try to soak up every moment. Take mental screenshots. I’ll take as many pictures and videos as I can on the side, too, but just really be here and in this moment, okay? Steal Oliver away later for a little time alone, just the two of you. I’ll make sure people leave you alone. And more than anything,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her wrist. “I hope this day is as perfect as you’ve always dreamed. I am so, so happy for you.”

  Her eyes welled with tears, and she sat her drink aside before launching herself at me. I held my glass as steady as I could, chuckling when a sip splashed out of the side and onto her comforter, but neither of us cared.

  “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  My heart swelled. “Me, too.” When we pulled back, I arched an eyebrow. “Ready?”

  Morgan’s smile was radiant when it spread across her face on a certain nod. “Ready.”

  Less than ten minutes later, her mom flew through her bedroom door, already crying, and Operation Wedding Day was in full effect.

  I didn’t even have to try to keep my mind off anything, because it was so effortless to fully immerse myself into my best friend’s wedding day. We laughed and drank mimosas as Aunt Laura did our hair and Oliver’s cousin did our makeup, the wedding planner making everything feel calm and not rushed. It was easy hanging out with Oliver’s mom and sisters, and I could tell by the way Morgan and her mother lit up around them that they were all caught up in the bonding, in two families becoming one.

  That was the magic of a wedding day.

  We took pictures in our robes, and then enjoyed a light lunch before Morgan sat us all down and gave us personalized letters she’d written to us all. Luckily, Oliver’s cousin was there to patch up our makeup after we all bawled like babies.

  The photographer and videographer were there to capture it all, and they especially took time and care as we all got dressed — me in the lilac bridesmaid dress Morgan had picked out for me, the mothers of the bride in similar shades, but their own styles, Oliver’s sisters i
n their gorgeous, beachy maxi dresses. And finally, Morgan in her wedding dress, each of us helping her — slipping on her shoes, putting her earrings in, fastening her necklace, lacing up the back.

  When she was completely dressed, we all stood around her with our hands over our mouths and tears in our eyes, taking in her breathtaking beauty. The dress I’d watched her pick out in the shop just two weeks ago was somehow even more gorgeous now, the creamy lace stunning against her freshly bronzed skin, the sweetheart neckline and open back giving her a dreamy, almost Hollywood look. She was a star, glowing from every inch, her short hair curled and topped with a tasteful, delicate flower crown.

  And before we knew it, Morgan and I stood behind the closed shutter doors of the beach house with her father, listening to the guests as they were seated outside and knowing her future husband waited at the end of the aisle.

  Time slowed as I watched Morgan with her father, her arm threaded through his and dewy eyes cast up toward him. He smiled down at her with his own eyes misted, placing his hand over hers in his arm, assuring her with his strength and caring touch. They didn’t have to say a word for me to hear everything.

  I love you.

  I’m proud of you.

  I’ve got you.

  My heart stung with a longing, the same one I’d always had watching them together. I’d never know what that was like, to have a father like Robert, or to have a mother like Amanda — but this family was my family, too. And when Robert looked back at me, reaching his other hand for mine and pulled me into his side for a hug, the only thing that stopped me from sobbing was remembering how Oliver’s cousin threatened to murder us if we ruined her makeup one more time.

  “I love you girls so much,” Robert said softly, and we both leaned into him, sniffing back emotion. “Let’s get you both down that aisle, shall we?”

  We nodded, and Morgan reached out to squeeze my arm with a smile before I released them from my grasp and took my place in front of them. The wedding planner nodded once we were in place, speaking softly into her headpiece, and then she flashed me a smile and waved me forward, closer to the doors.