Wedding Bands

by Ev Bishop

  “You’re right,” Jo said, but her mind was already skipping ahead. She’d call Dave as soon as she got home. Obviously he’d inadvertently given Callum the wrong idea about their friendship; she’d get him to clear things up and see where things led with her and Callum.

  Chapter 14

  The air was crisp and the sky was robin egg blue. Gold and brown leaves crackled under Jo’s snub-toed walking boots on the Millennium trail—a path built along the edge of town by the City to celebrate the year 2000. She took a deep breath of the clean, delicious air, and tried to ignore how happy Dave looked—something that, of course, wouldn’t bother her except that a minute ago, he’d tried to take her hand. She evaded him by stooping to tighten her laces, but you didn’t need a Psych degree to read his body language and emotional cues.

  “Smells like snow,” Dave said.

  “Yeah, it does,” Jo agreed, smiling despite herself. “I forgot about that—that you can actually smell snow coming.”

  “Ah, you city kid.”

  “I was hardly a city kid.”

  He shrugged agreeably, a gesture that was quintessential Dave. It irked her. Why did he have to agree with every single thing she said? And then she was irritated at herself for being rankled by something so innocuous. Why couldn’t she like nice, kind, easygoing Dave? Why was she still drawn to Callum? Oh, well. It was a pointless question. Might as well ask why fish swim. They just do. And she just was. She was about to clear things up with Dave, when he spoke.

  “I’m glad you asked me to go for a walk,” he said.

  She nodded and shoved her hands into the pockets of her fleece-lined nylon jacket. “Yeah, about that,” she said.

  “I feel really close to you,” Dave continued like she hadn’t spoken. “Like I did when we went to school together.”

  He’d felt close to her in school? News to her. “Oh yeah?” she said.

  “Yeah, but I always wanted more.”

  Jo walked backwards, so she could face Dave but keep moving. “Listen Dave, you’re a great guy—”

  “Oh oh,” Dave said. “Not the ‘great guy’ line. Things haven’t changed for you at all since you came back? Since we started spending time together again?”

  Jo shook her head and was about to say, “No, sorry,” when Dave held up a hand. “Wait, don’t say it out loud. Don’t write it in stone yet. Just give me a chance. Let’s keep hanging out and see what develops.”

  Jo kicked at a large rock that didn’t belong on the path and sent it off into the ditch. “Yeah, about that. Have you been telling people we’re dating?”

  Dave stopped in his tracks. “What? No, of course not.”

  Jo studied his face. He met her eyes without flinching. “Why?” he asked.

  Why indeed? she thought.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just Callum. He . . . ” Her voice trailed off. He what? Had kissed her and blown her off? Had seemed pissed off about her and some imagined relationship with Dave?

  Dave sighed heavily. “Let me guess? Callum’s acting all territorial about you and odd about me?”

  Jo turned away and resumed walking frontwards. “He seemed to have a misguided idea about you and me, yes—”

  “But why not you and me?” Dave interrupted. “You’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

  Was she seeing anyone? No, not really. Only in her imagination. The one where people took physical affection as a sign of something deeper. One where staying up all night talking and laughing was special—and unique to two people. One where—ah, what was the point? No, she wasn’t seeing anyone. But also, no, she wasn’t interested in Dave, and she wasn’t going to lead him on and pretend that could change.

  “Not specifically, but—”

  Dave made a fist and pumped the air in celebration of some perceived victory. “Yes!” he said. “I knew you weren’t. I told him you weren’t.” His eyes narrowed. “Just because he’s a player doesn’t mean everyone is.”

  Jo was confused by Dave’s words and by his change of expression—hard and almost angry. Most un-Dave-like. “What do you mean he?”

  “Callum.”

  Jo picked up her pace. “So you guys did talk about my dating life?” She tried—and thought she failed miserably—to keep her voice conversational and detached.

  Dave’s big shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug. “I’m not sure how it came up—” His cheeks reddened. “Okay, that’s a lie. I told him how much I liked you.”

  “Oh.” Oh. She tried not to frown too offensively. No wonder Callum had been confused and assumed she might like Dave back.

  “He said I should be careful, that ‘a woman like you’ always has a bunch of fish on the line.”

  Jo almost tripped on her own feet. “He said what? Why would he say that?”

  “I don’t know.” Dave’s eyes were round with concern. “It was out of line and I said so.”

  “Then what did he say?”

  “Not much. I just figured he was being his usual self. Wanting to eliminate the competition and all that.”

  “The competition?”

  “Sure.” Dave’s breath showed white in the chilly air, but Jo was burning hot all of a sudden.

  “I’m sorry. I still don’t get it. What do you mean?”

  “You know.” Dave paused to zip up his jacket, avoiding eye contact. “He’s a typical guy and it’s a small town. When new flesh moves in, he wants first chance with it.”

  “New flesh? He said that?” Jo was on the verge of shouting.

  “Not in so many words, but it’s kind of common knowledge. He’s an Archer, after all.”

  Jo remembered all the rumors about Callum’s dad. How she’d been so humiliated for Mrs. Archer and she’d only met the woman once or twice. But Callum had been the opposite of all that when they were teenagers. He vowed he wanted one woman, her, for life. But then again, look how that had turned out.

  “Yeah, and he told me you and him had a thing back in school.”

  “He did?” Surprises like barbs on a hook kept tearing at her.

  “Yeah. Said it was weird to have you back—and to meet your sister. Said he can’t decide which one of you is hotter.” Dave cleared his throat. “Said he might have to try you both.”

  Oily hot shame spread over Jo’s flesh. She wriggled her shoulders trying to shake it off. Why should she feel bad because some guy was an objectifying creep?

  “He . . . he wasn’t like that when . . . before,” she said. It was work to push the words out. Painful work.

  “No,” Dave agreed. “He’s one of my oldest friends, but he’s changed a lot, and we don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. Not even close.”

  They’d come to the end of the trail. It was either turn around and backtrack to the vehicles, or trek down the highway and take an extended return route. Jo wished she could teleport away instead of choosing either, but since that option wasn’t available she started retracing their steps.

  They walked in silence, Jo lost in black thoughts about how silly and naïve she was in her approach to life. How many disappointments—and how many heartrending failures to correctly read what kind of person someone was—did she have to suffer to realize she was bad at relationships? Beyond bad, actually. Terrible.

  “People will always meet or exceed your lowest opinion of them,” Samantha was known to say. And Jo had tried to talk her out of that point of view a zillion times, but maybe Samantha was right. Dead right. New flesh, indeed. Hotter or not? What a—

  “I’m sorry,” Dave interrupted suddenly, about halfway back.

  “For what?” she muttered distractedly.

  “You know, for telling you all this, especially if you like him again.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jo wrinkled her nose like there was a bad smell. “We were stupid kids, playing at being grown up. I was surprised he was still in town, and it’s always disappointing to find out someone’s turned into a creep, but it’s nothing to me personally.”

&
nbsp; Dave searched her eyes, then smiled and patted her shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m still sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Jo?” Dave asked a few minutes later.

  “Uh huh?”

  “I feel kind of bad about what I said about Callum. He’s not a terrible guy. He just had a number done on him by his ex. It changed him.”

  “Don’t worry, Dave. I’m not going to hate your best friend. I just know better than to think we could rekindle anything. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “Okay, well . . . good.”

  Back at their vehicles, both parked near a picturesque candy shop housed in a remodeled train station, Dave touched her shoulder again. “So how about it?”

  Jo felt her brow furrow grouchily, and she forced her face to relax. None of her stupidity was Dave’s fault. “How about what?” she asked.

  “My proposition?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You know, to give me a chance?”

  “Ah, Dave, come on. Please don’t make this awkward.”

  “Not awkward, I promise.” He shifted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits.

  “I don’t like how you’re purposely not hearing me. I’m not into you.”

  “No, I get it. And I accept it—but let me try to change your mind.”

  Was he kidding? I accept it—but let me change your mind? Argh! Jo sighed. She was done with this day. So done. “I can’t tell you how to feel, Dave—or how not to. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not interested in dating you. And I won’t be. I don’t know how to be more plain than that.”

  “But you’ll still hang out with me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Or maybe not. She needed to think about it.

  “Good enough.”

  It was like she’d actually said she’d go out with him. Shaking her head, she climbed into her truck, started the engine and roared away, without saying a polite good-bye. She needed to work on being much less Jo-dumb and accommodating and much more Samantha-smart.

  Chapter 15

  Callum turned on the eighty-inch flat screen, set out a bowl of kettle chips, and grabbed a couple cans of Coke from the small black fridge in the entertainment console.

  “Shit, I love this TV.” Dave settled into one of the deep Italian leather chairs, stretched his legs and rested them on the low, highly polished burl table in front of him.

  Callum looked around his opulent living room, but could hardly appreciate it. All he could see was how the house and its furnishings tied him down. He never should’ve let Nina convince him to take a huge mortgage and loan with his father. He’d have been just as happy living in a condo until his student debt was paid off. His father held that loan too, dammit, and it was still a grossly sizeable amount because he and Nina went on extravagant holidays every year, drove fancy cars—well, he didn’t anymore—and bought crazy furniture, choosing to pay back a pittance every month and continue to wear the golden handcuffs his dad happily held the key to instead of paying down debt. He tried to go to the bank and refinance through them—but even with his salary, they all but laughed. Now Nina was long gone, but he continued on in the monster of a home that kept him tethered to his father and bound to a job he hated—unless he sold it, paid everything off with the remaining equity, including Nina, and started over. But that would mean . . . starting over. Admitting he’d taken on more than he could chew. Facing that every decision he’d made as an adult, right from spurning Jo, had been a mistake. . . .

  “Earth to Callum. Callum!”

  Callum jumped. “Uh—what?”

  “I called your name like five times. Pass me the chips, dude.”

  “Right, yeah, sorry.” Callum handed the bowl of chips to Dave who took a big handful, then shook the dish at Callum.

  “No thanks. I’m good.” Callum settled into his own seat and reclined.

  “So what’s up with you anyway?” Dave asked, but kept his eyes focused on the blaring truck commercial.

  “Nothing. Everything.” Callum cracked his knuckles. “I want to know what she said.”

  “You’re going to give yourself arthritis doing that shit.” Dave finally glanced Callum’s way. “And I told you. She didn’t say much.”

  Callum felt like a big tool. Why was he getting Dave to be his go between anyway? Why didn’t he just call Jo and apologize himself? Because he was a coward and a jerk, that’s why. When Dave offered to clear the air and smooth things over with Jo on his behalf, he’d jumped at the chance.

  “So what did you say? Did you tell her I was really sorry, that I know I don’t deserve it, but I’d really appreciate a second chance?” Don’t you mean a third chance? a harsh voice muttered in his head.

  “I tried.” Dave averted his eyes again and took another big handful of chips.

  Callum studied him. “Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark, old friend.”

  Dave rolled his eyes, but still looked shifty. Callum’s spine stiffened. “I’m serious, what’s up with you? What happened?”

  Dave clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times. “Don’t take this too hard.”

  “Take what too hard?” Callum’s heart hammered. “Of course I won’t. Tell me already.”

  “I brought up the topic of you and her, and, well, she basically said the past was the past, that you guys aren’t ‘stupid kids, playing at being grown up’ anymore—”

  Callum fought to mask his hurt and must’ve been half successful because although Dave shot Callum a look, he continued. “And she said she was surprised you still lived around here, but that it’s nothing to her personally.”

  “Really? She said that—that’s what she said?” Callum felt like he’d been kicked in the balls. He rocked back in his chair, a little dizzy. Thank heavens for small mercies. At least he hadn’t completely humiliated himself by apologizing about his misinterpretation of her and Dave’s relationship. So what if she hadn’t kissed him behind someone else’s back? It was just as bad to return his kiss out of . . . what? Some sort of ego trip? Or pity? See, Callum still has it bad for me. Poor sucker. Her response hadn’t felt feigned—but then what did he know? He had enough pent up affection and never-diminished attraction for her to fool twenty people. Maybe in his pathetic hopefulness, he’d projected the feeling it was mutual onto her.

  Projected. Shit, he was an ass. He really needed to stop with the self-help books.

  “Are you all right, buddy?”

  “Yeah, sure. Great.”

  “Okay. . . .” Dave didn’t sound convinced.

  “I’m just surprised is all. I thought—ah, never mind.” Callum crumpled his freshly drained cola can in his fist, then set it on the table. “So that’s that, hey? I guess it’s better to find out she’s not into me now instead of later, right?”

  “Yeah, you don’t need another Nina, man.”

  So there it was. The elephant in the room. Even Dave was drawing a comparison between Jo and Nina. How could he be such a shitty judge of character, time and time again?

  “What time’s Brian coming over?”

  “Eight,” Callum said, glancing at the clock. It was ten to. He couldn’t wait. Then Brian could entertain Dave, and hopefully the two of them wouldn’t notice if he tuned out for a while. He got to his feet. “I made a pizza earlier. I’ll go throw it in the oven.”

  “Sounds great. You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Callum imagined his future stretching out ahead of him, an unchanging pattern of daylight hours filled with a job he hated and evenings dictated by whatever was on TV. This was his life. Confirmed bachelor. Sex only in his lame imaginings. The highlight of his week being game nights with his equally lonely, but posing-as-if-they-weren’t-lonely-at-all friend and brother.

  No laughing wife who enjoyed working in the kitchen as much as he did. No little blue-eyed mini hims or curly-headed mini hers running wild in the yard—

  Good grief! So now he
wasn’t just gloomy because he wasn’t dating Jo, he was back to being miserable about not marrying her? He made himself sick.

  Callum slid a huge eight topping pizza onto the middle rack in the oven. Why did he feel almost as bad as when he’d first lost her? They’d only seen each other a couple of times the last few weeks, and most of those had been chance encounters. They hardly knew each other.

  Callum’s hands shook and his breathing sped up. He leaned back against the counter to steady himself. His heart felt like it was skipping beats, and his stomach clenched and gurgled. He didn’t know if he should stay put or run to the bathroom just in case. He grabbed a tea towel and wiped his sweating forehead. At this rate he wouldn’t be able to watch the hockey game with Brian and Dave. The glare from the TV, combined with Dave’s and Brian’s shouting and cheering, would send him over the edge.

  He leaned harder on the counter and lowered his chin to his chest. “Come on, Archer. Get a grip.” The stern words just made it more difficult to breath.

  Jo popped into his brain. What had she said to him at the office that day?

  “Take a deep breath”—that was it. Everyone said that though: Just take a deep breath, calm down—as if it was that simple. Light-headed, he tried to suck in some sort of oxygen, got nothing. It was stupid advice. Why had it worked coming from her?

  “It’s okay if you can’t . . .”—maybe that was it. How she said it. Despite the stomach-turning anxiety threatening to undo him, he smiled at the memory of her voice. “Just try,” she’d said, like it was no big deal whether he succeeded or not—and then she’d joined him, like it would help her as well. “I’ll sit, too.”

  Callum didn’t know exactly how long he stood there in the kitchen by himself, or when his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, but they did.

  Well, look at that. A therapist he used to see had encouraged him to find some sort of mental touchstone, a person or place he could think about when an attack started that would hopefully soothe the symptoms before they got out of hand. Callum had thought it was nonsense, but now? Now maybe he’d found one—and she wanted nothing to do with him. He sighed heavily. Maybe it was just as well because if she was like Nina then he needed her back in his life like he needed another hole in his head.