Almost Lover

by Steph Campbell

  “Jordan—”

  “I don’t know if you need any help clearing out your stuff, but I can have Jack come by and give you a hand—”

  “I don’t—” I feel myself getting choked up, so I swallow hard, pushing the lump down my throat. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “Hey,” she gives a half-hearted attempt at a smile and a small shrug of her shoulder, like this is casual.

  Like this is nothing.

  Like this is over.

  “We almost were, right? That’s got to count for something.”

  “I can’t believe the inside of the cake is blue,” Maren says, sighing. Then she laughs. “Blue. Our baby girl has a blue cake.”

  “Well, sis, there’re worse things than a blue cake,” I point out. I take a long drink of the cold beer. “Like, not having a cake at all. See. Silver lining.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Maren says, her face falling.

  I laugh lightly. “It’s cool, Mare.”

  I leave out the part where I passed by Jess’s bakery on my way to the beach two days ago. I sucked in a big breath and gripped my board a little tighter as I walked by the door, but I didn’t have the slightest urge to look inside.

  “I got the beautiful gift from Jordan, by the way,” Maren says in a quiet voice. Like she doesn’t want to spook me.

  “Yeah?” I tip my beer back, trying to appear unaffected. But my gut isn’t as calm with the mere mention of Jordan as it was when I was twenty feet from Jess. “That was nice of her.”

  “It was. Cohen and I were talking and—”

  I hold my hand up. “I love you, Maren, but please don’t. Please just let it be.”

  “We just don’t want you to be in pain like you were the last time…”

  “I can’t. I mean, there’s nowhere left to run, right? Been there, done that. Now I’ve got to face it.” I polish off the rest of the beer and toss it into the recycling bucket. “I love you for trying to help. I’ll be okay.”

  I just have to remind myself every hour or so that she never really was mine.

  My sister-in-law smiles at me as she gets up. “I guess I’ll go join the party, then.”

  “Alright. And maybe just consider Enza as a middle name, I think it works well.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” she calls sweetly over her shoulder as she walks away.

  Maren is one of the coolest chicks on the planet, and I am so damn happy that my brother ended up with her. For a while, Maren coming into his life when he was on the rebound from his psycho ex, Kenzie, made me feel hopeful that I’d get a girl just as rad in the end. Unfortunately that girl—the only girl—just kicked my ass to the curb. Now I’m back where I started.

  Unemployed. Unloved.

  A bum.

  So now what?

  I could take the job from Mr. Angelino. I told him I needed a little more time to make a decision, and he’s been gracious, but it doesn’t feel right taking a job I know I didn’t earn. I didn’t land the position at Golden Leaf fair and square, so being offered a job based on my spot at Golden Leaf feels wrong.

  Deo has offered me a gig helping out in the surf shack he owns with his wife. It’s just counter help, but it’s honest work. More on par with what I should be doing rather than running an entire business—or trying to.

  “Hey, hey, brother E,” Deo says, pulling up the chair next to me. He passes me another beer, which I gladly accept. “Glad you could make it. Mind if I sit?”

  “Hey, man,” I say. I clink the top of my bottle to his. “Can we just agree that you aren’t going to talk to me about how royally I manage to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in?”

  “No judgment from me. I’ve had my share of screw-ups. Even Whit there tried to run away from me. I just loved her too damn much to let her go.”

  “You know that sort of makes you sound like maybe you deserved to be slapped with a restraining order, right?”

  Deo chuckles. “Hey, all’s fair in love. Give any more thought to the job at the shop?”

  “I’ll let you know soon, Deo.”

  “We’re happy to have the extra hands around the place, especially with summer coming and all the surf lessons for the little groms, but I completely understand if you want to take that vineyard gig out in Temecula. Sounds more your speed. Or your new speed.”

  I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do. Or what I’m about. Or anything. I just want Jordan back. I could work anywhere, do anything if I had that woman to come home to. Why couldn’t I make her understand that? That if she wanted a fresh start, not something based on lies, we could do that too? It didn’t have to be over completely.

  Deo must sense my mind drifting, because he changes the subject. “So what’d you bring for the little rugrat?”

  “Gift card,” I say.

  “Slacker,” Deo jokes.

  “Oh yeah, what fancy gift did you bring for baby Rodriguez? Temporary tattoos?”

  “No way, man. Marigold hooked Whit and I up with some organic blankets and crap, some hippie essential oils to help the kid sleep, amber teething necklaces—all kinds of stuff that basically make me a shoe in for godfather.” He shrugs. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”

  I laugh. Deo’s a wreck. “We’ll see. He is my brother.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll be around more for the kid.”

  “Is Marigold passing out peyote again? What makes you think you’d be around for the baby more than I would?” I ask. I’m not offended, Deo always says crazy shit. I’m genuinely curious as to what his reasoning is here.

  “Well, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can sit around Silver Strand feeling sorry for yourself. Granted, you deserve to feel a little bit like you got the shit kicked out of you for a while, since, well, you sort of have this year. Twice.”

  “Thanks for rubbing that in. By the way, didn’t we agree we weren’t going to talk about that?”

  Deo shakes his head. “No, we said we weren’t going to talk about how you screw up relationships. I’m not sure you did this time.”

  “I think Jordan may see it differently.” I mumble, thinking about the look on her face when she sent me away. “Anyway, go on.”

  “Alright, you can hang around here. Maybe go work for your Pop, which is all fine and good, but you’ll never be totally satisfied. It’s not your passion, that’s for damn sure. You can hook up with some hot chick, probably a different one every night if you wanted. You’ve got that whole Rodriguez charm—all of you have it, so you could use it for that, I guess. So maybe if you stuck around you might be godfather, but maybe Maren wouldn’t want your skanky ass helping mold her daughter into the person she’ll become, you know?”

  “Point taken. What’s the second choice, oh wise, Deo?”

  “The second choice is you haul ass back up to Napa or wherever you were. You tell that girl you aren’t taking goodbye as her final answer. You work that Rodriguez charm for all it’s worth.”

  “I don’t think that’ll work with Jordan.”

  “That’s not the end of the plan, dude. Don’t interrupt.” I’m thrown by Deo’s serious tone. It’s totally unlike him, which makes me take what he’s saying even more to heart. He means it. Every word. And damn, if I end up with half the happiness and love that he and Whit have, or Cohen and Maren, or Gen and Adam or Cece and Andrea: that friendship they all have combined with a fiercely passionate love, then I am one lucky son of a bitch.

  “Fine what’s the rest?”

  “You fucking earn her, Enzo. You don’t get the woman of your dreams, the lady you’re supposed to end up with forever—you don’t get that—” he tips the neck of his beer bottle in Whit’s direction, “You don’t get that just handed to you. You bust your ass and earn her. It’s like anything else in this life that’s worth it. And that Jordan, I don’t know a whole hell of a lot, but I know from watching the way you are with her—she’s worth it for you, bro.”

  “So,
what am I supposed to do? Take off? Bail on all of them again.”

  Deo shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be one way or the other when it comes to family. You can have both. Your family wants you to have both. Trust me. And yeah, Mom totally has some peyote back in her herb shop if you’re interested. Don’t tell her I told you, though, and you’ve got to tell her you have a toothache or something if you want any. She doesn’t just go passing it out.”

  I laugh hard. “Thanks man, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Jordan, where do you want these?” Jack asks, holding up the last of the boxes.

  “Just shove them in the corner, Jack, thanks. I’m going to be unpacking for a while, so it’s no rush.”

  “Okay. That’s the last of ‘em.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at his boots.

  “Thanks again,” I say, then sigh. The pity in his eyes matches the look I’ve been getting from the rest of the staff in the days since Enzo left. “Spit it out, Jack.”

  “It’s just…he really loved you. You know that, right? I don’t know every detail, and as much as it annoyed me to see because he needed to be working, not chasing you.” I pull my brows together. “Sorry, off track. But I do know Enzo loved you like crazy. And he wanted you to be proud of him.” He clears his throat and stares at me, waiting.

  I shrug, even though I hate myself for acting like it’s no big deal. For pretending my heart isn’t pulverized. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  It’s the clichéd adage that if you love something, you have to set it free. Except in this case, it’s not coming back to me. I had to let Enzo go. He belongs in Silver Strand with that beautiful family, all of the things he’s known his entire life. Letting him go was best for both of us. When Enzo left his home and came here, he was looking for a fresh start. I took that away from him. I pulled him into something that wasn’t fair or true. He needs a life built on honest things. We both need that. I had to tell him to leave.

  Jack just nods slowly, not necessarily like he’s agreeing. More like he’s hearing me. And then he tells me to call if I need any more help and leaves.

  I’m alone with my thoughts. Not my favorite place to be right now. The most common theme replays itself: how close we were to almost making it work. Almost being happy, for good. If I’d just met Enzo some other way—some other day that wasn’t my father’s wedding, mid breakdown and Enzo hadn’t felt the push to put his own needs aside and fix me, we might have worked out.

  It’s beyond strange to be walking around in this apartment where Enzo lived.

  I used to watch him in this very apartment through my bedroom window, wondering what it would be like to lie on the bed and feel his hands on me, whisper to him in the pink light of dawn, snuggle in his arms on my infrequent days off.

  And then my every fantasy came true. I’d been a princess locked in her tower for so long, but I’d found my one true love, and I vowed to never let him go.

  That didn’t stop him from riding off into the sunset without me.

  I spin around slowly and look at the bare walls I covered with a fresh coat of cream paint. It’s nice and bright, it’s supposed to signify a clean slate. It’s not working. If I was trying to cover up what happened here, it’s a pathetic attempt at best. Some new paint and curtains, new furniture and decorations aren’t going to erase the life and love that happened in these rooms, that echo off these walls.

  “How will I live here without him?” I whisper to the ghosts of the life that was so close. In my grasp. And then gone.

  I need to take my mind off all of this, and the best way to do that is to work. I open the first box and start laying out the meaningless stuff that, embarrassingly, is all that’s left to define my life. But my traitor brain keeps flipping through images that took place in these four walls.

  Enzo and I had sex here when I was able to sneak out, away from the prying eyes of everyone we worked with. I look up at the ceiling where there’s a funny dip. It makes a shadow at sunset that looks like a wave. I used to watch it change shape as the light burned brighter, Enzo’s body next to mine, my fingers brushing through his hair as he slept.

  I stack dishes in the bare cabinets, remembering the nights he’d lead me to the kitchen, lift me onto the counter, and tell me I was all the snack he needed. I move to the bathroom and remember how it felt to have his strong fingers rub shampoo into my hair, how gently he’d turn me to rinse the lather from my hair. Even the closet holds memories of Enzo pulling a spare shirt out and offering it to me when I didn’t bother to bring a change from my room.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I ask myself, sinking onto the floor. I wanted space from Mom while she and Dad sort out exactly what they are. I don’t want to be in the middle of that. I want everyone to be able to fix their own lives and move on the way they should, without any outside influence.

  Plus, it was just time.

  I love it here at Golden Leaf. My life is here, but I needed a space of my own. Too bad the only open space is one that used to be inhabited by the man I am still so damn in love with.

  The buzz of my phone breaks through my thoughts. I pick up immediately. “Hello, Mom.”

  “Jordan, the applicant for the part-time tasting position is here,” Mom says in a clipped voice. My mother hates nothing more than conducting interviews. According to her every applicant, no matter how good, “turns into a moron” as soon as she questions them. I think my mother doesn’t appreciate that she’s so intimidating, she can turn perfectly decent applicants’ brains to jelly. “I thought Jack could interview him, but he’s dealing with some faulty irrigation pipes, and I hate to bother him when he’s in the middle of such a delicate job. I know you’re off today—”

  “It’s no problem,” I interrupt. I don’t mind working hard for Golden Leaf. And I know the harder I work now, the more I’ll be able to ease off some day. In five years or so, I may even be able to date again.

  I try to think of it positively, but my heart weeps at the thought of anyone other than Enzo in my bed, my life, my heart.

  “I’ll send him to the apartment.” She pauses. “Jordan?”

  “Yes?” I’m a little nervous. My mother doesn’t like being on the phone a second more than is absolutely necessary, so I’m worried she has something to tell me that I really don’t want to hear.

  Although, seriously, I’m getting pretty good at fielding crap news. Between my father’s second divorce and infidelity, and Enzo’s departure from Golden Leaf and my life, I’m geared up for another sucker punch.

  So when my mother says, “You’re doing a wonderful job. I couldn’t be prouder. Okay, I have to go now” I stare at the phone, slack-jawed.

  I know it wasn’t easy for her to say it, but it was so nice for me to hear it. I slide the phone in my pocket with a light, happy feeling in my heart. I decide today is going to be a good day for a fresh start. A new beginning. I’m going to try to enjoy the wonderful aspects of my life and appreciate the love I’m lucky enough to have. Maybe I’ll put my irritation aside and ask Dad to go out to lunch with me. I’ll stifle my boredom and go golfing with my mother. I’ll call up Florence and Meredith and see if they want to grab drinks, maybe even go dancing. I’ll arrange a blind date for Eddie with that cute new winetender we hired a few weeks ago and trade off so Jack can have more than two days off in a row.

  If Etta Caletti can share her feelings like she just did, I can be inspired to do better, too.

  With that new resolve, I head downstairs and open the door, ready to greet this interviewee with a big smile and a pleasa—

  I smack into a muscled chest. As I’m grabbing on to the man, trying to get my bearings, I inhale.

  And smell the scent that belongs to the one man who still holds my heart in the palm of his hand.

  “Enzo.” I say his name slowly, stare at him wondering what would have brought him back after I told him very clearly all the reasons he had to leave and stay gone. “Why…? What are you…?” I
press two fingers to my temple because too many thoughts are jostling through my brain and giving me an instant migraine.

  I manage to stand up straight, brushing off his hand when he tries to steady me. “I’m sorry. I wish you’d let me know you were coming. As it is, I can’t see you right now,” I say, crossing my arms.

  I do that so he won’t see how badly my hands are shaking, but I’d love it if he just thought it was because I was so irritated with him.

  “The thing is—”

  I cut him off. Damn his handsome face. Damn his low, sexy voice. Damn his smell and the way he stands, like he’s relaxed but in control.

  Damn how badly I miss his arms around me, how I curl into a tiny ball and ache for him all night long. Damn the river of tears and the jagged bite in my heart that still hasn’t softened.

  “I’m interviewing someone.” He waits, and I don’t know why, but I decide to lie. Just a little lie. It’s stupid since I’m so hell-bent on a fresh start, to then start with a lie. “He’s an incredible applicant. A business man. Sharp, handsome, completely capable.”

  I’m annoyed that he’s shown back up, forcing me to have to explain all the reasons we can’t be together again, and spend the rest of my day in the fetal position, so I had hoped my pretend fantasy applicant would bring up some of Enzo’s jealousy, but he’s grinning. I feel a wash of fury. I check down the path to see if the real applicant—who’s almost certainly a scrawny college hipster—is coming. Since I don’t see anyone, I sneer at Enzo.

  “Maybe it was a good thing that things didn’t work out here with you, Enzo. Because this guy is the real deal.” I pause, furious he’s still grinning. “Several other vineyards have attempted to get him, but he said he had to work here. I guess he and I just clicked at our first meeting. Makes sense. He’s Italian, from a village right by where my grandparents grew up. It’s going to be hard to focus on work with him around, if you know what I mean.” I’m supposed to sound nonchalant, but I’m gritting my teeth so hard, I’m going to crack a tooth. “We’ll be working together, one on one, pretty much all day, every day.”