“Maybe. Besides, my soul mate might be carbs, and mac and cheese is the ultimate comfort food. I need to make sure it’s menu-worthy.” I taste the sauce again; it’s delicious. My secret weapon for making mac and cheese has always been cream cheese, and it’s not failing me now. By just adding a little, it makes the sauce so creamy and so good.
“Everything you make is menu-worthy, but seriously, put the spoon down and step away.”
Taking a look at myself, I look down to see what Taylor sees. I have made a mess, and I’m always very meticulous about cleanliness when I cook. I’m also wearing Converse tennis shoes and not heels, which is not the norm for me. Wearing heels has always made me feel empowered, like a source of strength and femininity, and well, right now I don’t feel strong. I feel sad.
I put the spoon down, take a step back from the counter, and turn to face her.
“That’s better,” she croons, smiling at me as if I’m a toddler. I just roll my eyes.
“Do we have to do this?” I ask her, feeling somewhat defeated yet irritated at the same time. She doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand, and there’s no sense in trying to explain it to them.
“Yes, we do. I’m going to make us both an iced coffee, and then I’ll meet you outside on the patio.”
She’s using the secret weapon, the iced coffee, and it has been like eight or nine hours since I last had a glass.
“Fine.”
She grins, pleased with herself for winning this round, only she doesn’t understand that I’m not fighting. I’m not doing anything.
Stripping off my apron, I toss it onto the counter and catch the eye of my sous chef. He pops one eyebrow up, confirming to me that everyone is onto me. Looking around, I see a few more of the kitchen staff is watching, and I can’t help but feel defensive.
“What?” I call out to them, tossing my arms in the air, trying to look at least five of them in the eye simultaneously. All of them evade me, out of fear, of course.
“Nothing, Chef. You all done over there?” He tilts his head toward the mess I’ve made.
I look back at the counter and frown. It really is a big mess. “Yes, I’m done.”
“All right then, we’ll clean that up while you’re out talking to Ms. Taylor,” he says. It’s subtle, but his words are enough to tell me the staff is uncomfortable around me and they’re ready for me to go. I should have picked up on that; they’ve been tiptoeing around trying to keep quiet and not disturb me.
“Thank you.” I nod to him. Tucking my tail, I make my way out to the dining room and then to the patio.
Sitting at my favorite table, I look around at the garden we’ve made. Last year, we made the decision to screen off the patio. We weren’t sure the city would approve of the outside changes, but they did and we’ve never looked back. The mosquitos around here can be vicious at times, and with the herbs, vegetables, and flowers on the patio and outside down the sidewalk, this keeps the bees away from the diners.
“So, Jack left?” Taylor says before she even gets to her seat.
“He did.” There’s no sense in denying it; everyone seems to have figured it out already.
As she sits, she hands me my glass and asks, “When is he coming back?”
I take a sip before I reply. This coffee is hitting the spot.
“I don’t know. Never?” I shrug my shoulders and frown. There’s a twinge of humidity in the air today, and the outside of the coffee glass is quickly covered in condensation.
She leans forward in her seat. “So, him leaving is not about him just checking in with his trainers back in Tampa?”
“No.” It didn’t occur to me that people might think I was working extra hours just because he went out of town for a bit.
“What happened?” She looks genuinely concerned about this new discovery.
“Nothing.” I shake my head then take another sip. Man, do I hate these types of conversations.
“Well, something had to have happened.” Her tone is slightly animated and accusatory.
“Nothing happened. I just can’t give him what he wants.”
People on the sidewalk pass us, and I overhear one say to the other that they need to stop in and eat here again, that the food was delicious last time. It lifts my spirits a tiny bit, but Taylor keeps going, and she’s a complete buzzkill.
“And what is it he wants?”
“A relationship. A forever. I don’t know. We were just meant to be friends, and he wanted to change us. I can’t do that.”
Looking past her, my gaze catches on the magnolia tree across the street. It’s in a random spot, in the corner of the lot, and there are a few blooms left on it, but not many as its flowering season is almost over. I can’t help but wonder if Jack cut a few from this one too.
Jack. My heart twinges.
“I hate to break it to you, but for all your determination to say you’re just friends, you’re kind of wrong.”
My eyes come back to hers, and she’s scowling at me.
“You were in a relationship with him whether you want to admit it or not. Think about it.” She leans back in her chair. “Y’all were living together, spending all of your time together, being intimate with each other, and don’t deny it because I saw it firsthand the day of the brunch, and well, it’s the significant other who always holds the title of best friend. Open your eyes, Meg, and see this for what it is. You were in a relationship with Jack. Jack Willett was your boyfriend.”
Hearing her put it like that, the dull pain that’s been simmering in my chest since he left intensifies.
How do I answer that? Because looking at it from this perspective, she’s not wrong.
Guilt washes over me, because even more than before, this solidifies to me that this situation between us is my fault. I’ve been trying to put it on him, telling myself he’s the one who changed us, but I allowed the change to happen. I gave in to it, and in doing so, I gave him false hope. I led him on, which makes me a horrible person. I did this to him; he didn’t do it to himself.
“Maybe, but then that makes his decision to leave even more the right thing to do.”
She takes a sip of her coffee, eyeing me over the rim. “And you’re sure this is what you want?” she asks, lowering the glass.
I want to say no, but reality forces me to say, “Yes.”
Her eyes get sad as she studies me. I know she’s not going to share any more of her opinions with me, and we both know I don’t want to hear them. This is for the best, it is, and the reasons for my promises come flashing back bright and clear.
Pulling my shoulders back, I raise my head higher than it has been in days. With a renewed sense of purpose, I say the things I need to say.
“I am grateful for the time we spent together. How could I not be?” I give her a small smile, hoping to reassure her that everything is going to be okay. “But in the end, he’ll realize I’m right, and I know he’ll think just as fondly of me as I do of him. Soon enough, we’ll go back to being friends again, just like we were meant to be.”
Pushing the chair back, I put a lock around my heart. I should have done this the day he left. It will only hurt if I allow it to, and I refuse to feel sad over losing him when I am happy I got to have him in the first place. There’s always a silver lining, right? I must be positive about this, because if I’m not, then what am I?
Southern Macaroni and Cheese
IF MARCH IS my favorite month, I’ve now decided April most definitely is not. It doesn’t matter how pleasant the sun is, how green the trees are, or how colorful the azalea bushes seem to be. What I will forever associate this month with is that the first girl I ever said ‘I love you’ to didn’t say it back, and that my team drafted a wide receiver in the second round last night. If that’s not telling of the future, I don’t know what is.
Instead of heading home, I drove straight to Bryan’s unannounced to pick up Zeus. She may not want to love me, but I know he does, and right then I just needed someon
e to. After being climbed on and kissed for a solid fifteen minutes, the clutching of my heart eased a bit.
Of course Bryan and Lexi didn’t say anything; they knew well enough by the look on my face that I didn’t want to be messed with. Instead, Lexi led me into the kitchen, where she served me a piece of strawberry pie, and then she showed me the downstairs guest bedroom. This is where I’ve stayed. I know I should go home—it’s been almost a week and it’s time—but maybe in another day or two.
Bryan left yesterday afternoon for the team’s draft party. He encouraged me to leave Zeus with Lexi and come with him, but I wasn’t feeling up to it. What man wants to come face-to-face with his replacement, especially if he’s not ready to retire? I know it’s not certain I am retiring, but I still have a ways to go before we will know for sure. Whether or not I’ll be coming back to a starting position is an entirely different scenario.
“Look at how sweet this picture is,” Lexi says, coming out through the sliding glass door and handing me her phone. It’s Zeus and me just sitting, staring out at their property, with my arm wrapped around his back. It is a great photo, and after I forward it to myself, I put it up as a post with the caption: A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself. #truth
It isn’t meant to be a jab in her direction, but maybe it is. I know she’ll see it, and I want her to know I’m not alone—unlike her. She has no one and nothing that keeps her company, except for her restaurant, but that’s a business, and at the end of the day, you leave it. I hate that I’m angry and hurt, but knowing she’s not going to be in my future, I now feel like I’m in another transition for my life, which adds to my overall frustration.
What a freaking mess this is.
What a mess I am.
Letting out a sigh, I stare out at the treehouse Bryan, Lexi, and her brother James grew up in. It’s crazy to me that it’s lasted all these years, but it looks maintained and seems to have recently received a fresh coat of paint. I didn’t grow up with things like this in my childhood. Maybe it’s why I seek out adventures—because I was denied them for so long—and right this second I’m kicking myself because I think maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I believed Meg and I were going to have a life together where there were treehouses and children.
Could I sound any more pathetic?
I’m thinking I even hate myself right now.
Sitting down next to me, Lexi hands me a glass of sweet tea, places a plate of cornbread between us, and lets us sit there in silence.
Lexi is a great girl. Bryan should count his lucky stars that he finally pulled his head out of his ass long enough to go get the girl. There isn’t anyone out there who I think could put up with him better than her. She gets him, and on a whole different level than most people. I thought Meg got me, too, but I guess not.
There I go again, sounding sorry for myself.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t as hard to leave her as I thought it would be. A man can only take being shot down so many times, and no one wants to be where they aren’t really wanted. I don’t actually think she didn’t want me there, she just didn’t want me the way I wanted her, and that wasn’t going to change. So, after making the hard decision to pack up that last day, despite being slowed down with this injury, it didn’t take me long to move around the house and collect the few things that were mine. I hadn’t been a slob in her home, but it was things like my watch charger in the kitchen, my flip-flops outside the back door, that kind of stuff.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Lexi asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
I know Meg texted her once, asking if I had picked up Zeus, and Lexi told her I was here, said they would talk at another time. I know she is her friend, and quite frankly that’s where her loyalty should be, but I appreciate her letting things lie while I’m here. They can gossip about me all they want after I leave.
“What’s there to tell you? It’s just not meant to be.” I briefly think back to Meg’s face when she saw that my room had been emptied. Shock and a little bit of panic had set in, and was it impulsive for me to leave right then, yes, but for me, sometimes when it’s fight or flight, flight is the best option. I like choices, and I wasn’t her choice, so where did that leave me? I was stuck; I had to go.
“What makes you say that?” she asks.
My brows pull down and I glance over at her like she’s crazy. “Uh, maybe because she’s told me so repeatedly since day one last summer.” I’ve always appreciated being heard, by my teammates, my parents, my friends; I should have done a better job listening to her, or at least taken her more seriously. She told me.
Lexi smiles at me like she knows something I don’t, and it throws me off. Between her and Bryan, he’s been more vocal about how much this situation sucks. He’s the perfect kind of friend, one who will stand behind you and will also push you when needed. I’m glad he hasn’t pushed this week. I’ve needed time to process.
“I don’t think you should give up on her yet.” She turns her head away from me and takes a bite of her cornbread.
“You can’t give up on something you never had.” Intrigued, I snag a square for me. Usually I think cornbread is dry, but when I take a bite, this one is moist and delicious.
“That’s not true and you know it. Shelby called me after the Wine and Food Festival brunch, and she shared a lot with me about our friend Meg.”
I’m sure she did. Meg was becoming an expert at having her cake and eating it too.
I turn to face her more, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t desperate to hear these little tidbits from her, no matter how perceptively incorrect they are. “Like what?”
She meets my gaze. “You already know, Jack. There’s no need for me to repeat it.”
And I do know. That was quite possibly one of the best days of my life. To start it with her lips finally on mine and then to end it with her naked between my sheets after the hallway . . . I thought it was going to be our beginning. Turns out it wasn’t.
“She doesn’t want me the way I want her. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shake my head and turn to look back out over the garden she has planted back here. She doesn’t need to see what these words do to me, and I for damn sure don’t want her pity.
I take in the details; it is immaculate, just like Meg’s. Of course they are completely different—one is urban and one is rural—but the intent is the same, and now I feel even worse from just looking at plants. How long will this go on where the stupidest things make me think of her?
“Here’s the thing—I know you know Meg, but you only know this Meg.” She pauses to let that sink in. “You didn’t know her before the cancer or during the cancer, and neither did I. I did meet her directly after, and she’s a different person now than she was then. Things change us, they shape who we become. She’s only let you see what she wants you to see, but for all her smiling and living like the glass is half full, there are still some very dark places in her that linger from the past.”
Her past.
Just like that, the confusion I was already feeling over how I could have misread the signs between us so badly takes a different turn. I hadn’t considered this to be a possibility. I mean . . . that was years ago.
Yes, I’ve been trying to figure out why she is the way she is, but I never once considered that she hasn’t always been this person, this when-life-gives-you-lemons-make-lemonade type of person.
And yes, I do believe life experiences shape us into the people we ultimately are, but she had to have been born with this sunny personality; that isn’t something that magically appears. I understand that she had cancer and survived it, but that doesn’t explain why she refuses to commit or love someone. She gets to live a full life—why doesn’t she want to share that with someone?
Then again, no. The more I think about it, I think Lexi is wrong. Her past doesn’t have anything to do with this. It’s about her not having the same feelings for me that I have for her. You can
’t make someone love you.
“Everyone has a past,” I tell her, standing and taking my glass and the plate with me. “Some are good, and some are bad, but in the end that’s what it is—the past. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, and Meg of all people claims she lives each moment to the fullest for that reason. So, no, I don’t think her past has anything to do with this. It just is what it is.”
She stands next to me, takes a long, hard look, and then shrugs her shoulders all nonchalantly. “If you say so.” With that she leaves me standing there, Zeus next to me and my hands full.
I do say so.
I know what I’m worth. I know the type of man I am and how good of a partner I would have been to her. Do I have a high opinion of myself? Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong with confidence and seeing your own value. It’s just too bad she didn’t see it, too. Will I think about what Lexi said a little more? Absolutely. I just guess my question to that is: What does that have to do with me?
Strawberry Pie
THE KITCHEN DOOR at OBA swings open and bangs against the wall as Taylor storms in. Every head in the back of the house pops up to see what the commotion is all about, until they see it’s directed at me. My eyes narrow at the anger rolling off of her.
“What are you doing?” She barely spits the words out at me, her cheeks tinted a nice shade of pissed-off red.
“What do you mean?” I ask her, keeping my voice low and not liking that she’s causing a scene in front of my staff.
She points to the dining room and pieces of her blonde hair follow, flying into her face. “Why is there a guy out there who says he’s here to pick you up for your date? A date, Meg?!”
Behind me, a few of the line guys start to murmur, and I turn to look at them. Some heads are shaking with disapproval but immediately drop as they resume breaking down the kitchen from today while others are prepping for tomorrow. I’m being judged, by all these people, and I don’t like it.
Lessons in Lemonade Page 21
