Forget About It

by Jessie Harper

  “No, no. You have a room,” Julia assures me, taking me by the arm and steering me back toward the middle of the lobby. “It just isn’t in the main part of the resort. It isn’t in the hotel.”

  “Isn’t in the hotel? What does that even mean?” I look at her suspiciously. “Am I in some cardboard box out on the beach or something?”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Julia keeps patting my arm as she gets someone to load us into a golf cart. My bags are hoisted into the back and Julia prods me onto the imitation leather seat. “It isn’t a cardboard box. It’s actually better than a regular room.”

  “Then why are you acting all shifty?” I ask. “What’s the problem, Julia? You might as well tell me.”

  “Well, they ran out of regular rooms over at the hotel. They were overbooked so they offered us some upgrades. Free of charge, of course! You won’t have to pay extra or anything.” The words spill out of Julia’s mouth in rapid-fire succession.

  “If I’m getting some great upgrade then why are you all jittery?” Julia’s not the world’s best liar. It got us in trouble countless times growing up. Even as an adult she has no poker face. I don’t know how she manages to convince her kids that the tooth fairy leaves that money under their pillows without just confessing to the whole thing. Now she’s twisting her fingers and sweating underneath her swim suit and sarong.

  “I’m not jittery!” Julia yelps. “It’s just that they gave us these villas—which are beautiful, really beautiful—but they’re big so…”

  I can see where this is going. “So, I’m sharing. Is that it? I’m in some amazing villa with Zach’s sisters or something?”

  “Noooo,” Julia says as the golf cart comes to a stop. The driver works to free my bag from the back while Julia scurries over to the front door. The villa is lovely, with bright pink flowers hanging from a vine over the entry. The breeze from the ocean blows back some of the hair from my neck and I can’t help but feel a little more relaxed. Julia pulls a key card out to slide it through the lock, still giving me glances over her shoulder. She pushes the heavy wooden door open and I’m thrilled with what I see. This is definitely an upgrade from the room I booked.

  As I drag my suitcase over the threshold, I can see the beach through the giant wall of windows along the back. There are fresh flowers everywhere in the living room. With its pristine white couches and gorgeous view, it looks like something out of a travel magazine. I won’t have a problem spending the next few days here.

  “It’s got this living area and a little kitchen in case you want to whip up a pitcher of margaritas or something.” Julia’s nervous laugh has me coming back to reality. There’s some sort of catch to staying in this beautiful house and she’s getting ready to come clean. “There are two bedrooms. Each one has its own bathroom so you won’t need to share a bathroom, don’t worry about that.” She’s barreling on with all the features of the house, really selling it. Julia should be a real estate agent, not a photographer.

  “You’ve even got your own little pool out back,” Julia tells me as she points out the plunge pool in the tiny little yard. Even that is gorgeous with the greenest palm trees against the bluest sky I’ve ever seen. “And there’s your roomie!”

  I look past the pool to the beach beyond and see the man I’ve been working so hard to avoid these past few days. Walking up to the back door is a slightly sweaty and completely shirtless Graham. He’s breathing hard, probably back from a beach run, unaware that Julia and I are watching him from the window.

  “Graham?” I sputter. “I’m not sharing with Graham.”

  “Come on, Cassie,” Julia pleads. “I couldn’t exactly put Amy or Kat over here. I needed someone immune to his, well, to that.” Julia points out the window to Graham rinsing off under the outdoor shower. I shudder as I watch the water run down his chest. When he’s done he positions himself in one of the lounge chairs by the pool, still glistening all over.

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.” In truth Julia has no idea exactly how much she’s asking of me. Avoiding Graham was hard enough when we were home. I ignored his texts and calls, pretended not to be home when he unexpectedly dropped by. After he let me leave the club alone, I was surprisingly relieved to find he was still tenacious about getting in touch with me, even if it was just to curse me out. Not that I’d know that was his intention—I didn’t listen to any of his messages and deleted every text with surgical precision. But I couldn’t bring myself to block him, couldn’t sever things completely. If ignoring Graham then was hard, this is going to be impossible. Resisting him when we are basically living together will be torture.

  But Julia doesn’t even wait for me to argue. She just walks out the back door and makes a beeline for Graham. He shades his eyes with his hand as he looks up to hear whatever she’s saying. He flicks his eyes toward the villa and then back again, but other than that there’s no change in his posture, no tensing of his shoulders. When Julia’s finished she doesn’t come back inside; she goes straight back to the golf cart and speeds off to do whatever wedding business she’s got going on now. I secretly wish I had some urgent place to be because as Graham sits outside for what seems like an eternity, I start to get pretty antsy. He knows I’m in here. What the hell is he waiting for?

  Graham lounges in the sun like a giant blond lizard, only getting up to dunk himself in the pool and lay back down on the lounge chair. I’m left standing in the middle of the living room, not even sure which bedroom is mine. I consider marching outside to demand that Graham tell Julia we can’t share this space, or at least tell me which room is his, do something other than look all relaxed. Do something other than looking like he doesn’t care I’m here.

  By the time Graham decides to grace me with his presence, I’m beyond irritated. I’ve looked in both bedrooms and found his suitcase, all of his perfectly tailored pants hanging in the closet, the room already smelling like him. I keep myself from running my fingers over the shirts folded in the drawers and taking one for myself before I stomp across the hall to the room that must be mine. I’m shoving things on hangers and throwing my shoes into the closet when I hear the back door open. I anticipate Graham’s shoulders coming through my door but instead he heads across the hall, closing his door behind him. I hear the shower come on and fume some more.

  When Graham finally comes out of his bedroom he’s looking handsome and smelling fabulous. I ignore him from my spot on the couch where I’ve been camped out for the past forty-five minutes. I debated walking down to the beach or going to the hotel bar for a drink, but the lure of Graham naked in close proximity kept me here in the living room. I look out the window at the rolling surf and try to keep myself from running over to him and jumping into his arms.

  Graham doesn’t seem to even notice me as he walks through the villa to the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrews the top. As he brings the bottle to his lips he spares me a glance.

  “Aren’t you going to get ready for the rehearsal?” he asks in between massive gulps of water.

  Rehearsal? Shit. We’ve got nonstop events every day leading up to the wedding and tonight’s no exception. That explains Graham’s casual but confident outfit. He’s wearing a pair of dress pants that perfectly accent the muscles in his ass along with a linen shirt that has me wishing I could touch it. Hands off, Cassie. After we practice Julia and Zach getting hitched, we’ll have to endure dinner.

  “I was just about to go and change,” I lie. I’d forgotten all about the dinner, forgotten about pretty much anything after I saw Graham out by the pool. I’m still covered in traveling stink and now I probably won’t have time to take a shower.

  “Well, you’d better hurry. We’re supposed to be there in twenty minutes.” He doesn’t spare me a smile, barely even looks at me as he finishes his water and crushes the bottle to put it in the recycling bin next to the counter. “I’m going to start walking up there but if you want the golf cart can pick you up. You can call t
he front desk and tell them.”

  “Oh, okay.” Is all I can manage as I watch him move toward the front door.

  “I’ll see you up there.”

  And then he’s gone.

  The rehearsal dinner is gorgeous, of course. When the backdrop for your event is the beach you really can’t go wrong. Most of the wedding guests have arrived and Julia and Zach are holding hands as they circulate through the crowd. The look on Julia’s face whenever she looks up at Zach is enough to give me a sugar overdose. She really is crazy in love with him. From the way he keeps grinning down at her and pulling her in for sappy kisses, the feeling looks to be mutual.

  Their happiness should be contagious, but instead of getting swept up in their warm and fuzzy feelings I find myself getting more and more unhappy. Watching Graham make his way through the party doesn’t help. He looks relaxed, like he’s enjoying talking to all the extended family and corralling Julia’s boys. He even sits with Charlie and Noah, making sure they put their napkins in their laps and wipe their mouths. He’s a natural with them which doesn’t go unnoticed by Zach’s sisters and the other female guests. There’s a constant stream of pretty ladies clustered around Graham’s table all vying for his attention. I bide my time over near the bar, watching all the exploding ovaries as I sip on my cocktail.

  The clink of silverware against the side of a glass focuses me back on the reason I’m supposed to be here. We’re supposed to be celebrating Julia and Zach, not wallowing in the misery of a torpedoed not-really-relationship. Plenty of Zach’s friends from the gym have made the trip to Mexico so when Zach’s dad stands to give the first toast, it’s already getting a little rowdy. They love hearing the incriminating childhood stories and are more than happy to lift their glasses once Frank finishes warning Julia that it’s too late to back out now. Julia’s family doesn’t shy away from a little roasting either and before I know it Graham’s standing up to give the speech he and I worked on.

  Really, I should probably be the one giving the toast. Anyone who knows anything about Graham and Julia’s history is probably holding their breath right now as they wait for Graham to speak. The ex giving a speech at the rehearsal dinner? A definite opportunity for drama. But we had decided that the only thing worse than Graham making a toast now would be having him make one at the wedding. That’s fallen to me and I’ve got the whole thing memorized, ready to go tomorrow. At least tonight he can make use of the possibility of humor because if people can’t see the ridiculousness in this situation then there’s no hope for them. Having him sit on the sidelines might look like he was still upset that Julia had moved on so he’s standing in front of everyone and giving Zach his approval. Not that Zach needs it, but any doubt that Graham has some secret agenda when it comes to Julia is supposed to be excised with this toast.

  And Graham is fantastic. He could be a stand-up comedian the way he has people laughing at the stories of Julia as a teenager—all G rated, of course. I spent an entire afternoon helping Graham make sure this toast was perfect. Well, not an entire afternoon since there was also plenty of break taking while we made ourselves into naked human pretzels. I try not to think of that part of the speech writing process as Graham starts to wrap things up.

  “Most of you know me from football, but I do other things too.” Graham pauses just long enough to let a few people call out their disagreement. “No really, like, I can read. I know it’s surprising.” He lets people laugh at him for a second before starting again. “And I read to try to figure things out. To get a better understanding of things I don’t know much about. I’m going to admit that I don’t know much about marriage. Never had the chance to try it. But Lao Tzu—he was a Chinese philosopher for those of you less educated than myself.”

  Here Graham takes a sip of his beer, letting everyone groan. He’s going off script and my palms start to sweat. This isn’t the speech we worked on. “Lao Tzu said that loving someone deeply gives you strength and being loved by someone gives you courage. These two obviously love each other enough to have the courage to try this marriage thing again and the strength to deal with everything that comes with it.” Graham’s eyes flick over to me. It’s barely a look, but my entire body reacts, tingling at even this slight hint of attention. “That gives me hope that one day I’ll be able to have the same courage and strength. That maybe someone will have that courage and strength because of the love I have for her.” My bottom lip starts to shake. I want that for Graham, too. Even worse, I realize I want to be able to give that to him.

  “I’m also a movie guy. I know, I know, you had no idea I was so versatile. I’m going to end this with a quote from a movie that I have been forced to watch several times against my will.” Graham looks over at me and raises an eyebrow. A few heads turn my way. Again, he’s not using what we worked on and my stomach starts to churn. “Once the main characters realize they’re meant to be together in When Harry Met Sally, the main character Harry gives this great speech I think is relevant here. He says when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. So, let’s hurry up and get this wedding out of the way so Julia and Zach can start the rest of their lives together.”

  I cover my sudden burst of emotion with my vigorous clapping and watch Graham sit back down and high five Noah and Charlie’s little hands. When I beg off early, rushing back to the safety of my bedroom, no one questions my motives. Tomorrow’s a big day and we all need to rest up, so no one notices that I can hardly keep my hands still or that I’m on the verge of tears.

  Back at the villa I douse myself under the scalding water of a too long shower and try to get some sleep but knowing Graham’s just across the hall has me tossing and turning. I could go and knock on his door, but what for? To tell him again I can’t give him what he wants even though I’m realizing I might want to?

  I get up to grab a bottle of water out of the kitchen fridge. The lights are out which confirms Graham’s returned. I left a few lights on so it wouldn’t be pitch black when he came back from dinner. Now the villa’s dark and quiet as I slink down the hallway. Graham’s door is closed as I rush past it, reminding myself not to linger there to try to hear him on the other side.

  The light from the refrigerator casts a greenish glow all around me when I reach in to get my water. A cup of tea or something would probably be better at getting me to sleep. Actually, a shot of whiskey might do the trick but I’m trying to make as little noise as possible so those options are out.

  “You can turn on the light if you need to.” Graham’s voice cuts through the darkness, startling me. I nearly hit my head on the handle of the freezer when I jerk out of the fridge. He’s sitting on the couch, long legs extended, bare feet resting on the top of the coffee table. He’s changed into a T-shirt and athletic shorts and the moonlight coming in through the bank of windows lets me see just enough of his face to know he isn’t happy.

  “I’m just getting water,” I tell him unnecessarily. If the past few hours are any indication, he doesn’t care what I’m doing.

  He grunts and goes back to looking out the window.

  I unscrew the top of the plastic bottle and start to walk back to my room. I’m never going to sleep now, but what are my other options? Graham wants nothing to do with me—a situation I orchestrated to keep myself from feeling, well, anything—so I can’t exactly plop down on the couch next to him. His rejection is something I never actually allowed myself to think about and it hurts more than I ever could have imagined.

  “Your speech was great tonight.”

  Graham grunts again. He’s not even bothering to answer me with words, let alone complete sentences.

  “How long are you going to do this?” I whisper and Graham turns his head.

  “Do what?”

  “How long are you going to ignore me?” I’m close to tears and I know he can hear it.

  “I’m only doing what you asked me to do.”

  “I
didn’t ask you to be mean.”

  Graham turns his body toward me and I can feel the anger pouring off him. “Mean? You think I’m being fucking mean? The last time I saw you I told you I love you and you left me standing in the middle of the goddamned street, Cassie. You haven’t answered my texts or taken any of my calls. Have you even listened to any of the messages I left you?”

  I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  “That’s what I thought. You want me to leave you alone so I’m leaving you alone. I can’t help it if we’re forced to stay here together, but I am so fucking pissed at you right now and you have the nerve to complain about me doing exactly what you asked me to do.”

  Graham isn’t yelling, but that almost makes it worse. He’s right; this is exactly what I told him I wanted. I’m getting exactly what I asked for.

  “This is killing me, Cassie, but I’m doing it because I’ll always give you what you want. Which makes me a pussy, I guess, and now I’m here and I can’t look at you, or talk to you, or touch you. Congratulations for getting your way. Turns out we both hate it.” I can see the muscle in his jaw working as he tries to calm himself down. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the couch cushions. “Go back to bed.”

  But I don’t. I can’t. I can’t walk away even though I know I should. I should let that anger fester, give Graham the chance to hate me so he’ll realize he should be with someone else. I know what’s best for him in the long run and it isn’t me. I’m a terrible bet for a man who wants the white picket fence and a house full of babies. An awful choice for a man who thinks people can stay in love forever. I should turn around and go back down the hall, close my bedroom door behind me, and leave Graham sitting out here alone. But my feet refuse to listen to my brain and instead I walk into the living room and stand in front of him.

  “I’m serious, Cassie,” he warns as he looks up at me. The hardness on his face almost scares me a little. I want him to look at me the way he usually does, not like this, with disappointment and resentment in his eyes. If I walk away now this is how he’ll look at me always. This is who he’ll be to me forever.