Happenstance: A Novella Series: Part Three

by Jamie McGuire

  Julianne snickered, and I tried to keep from smiling.

  “Do they have a Los Potros in Stillwater?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t think so, Señor,” the waiter said. “No.”

  Sam looked at me, very serious. “You can’t go to OSU.”

  “Oh, stop!” Julianne said, cackling.

  Carlos waited.

  “We’ll have the same,” Julianne said.

  The waiter nodded, knowing us well enough that we ordered the same matching meals every time.

  My cell phone chimed.

  No, thanks.

  “Is Weston on his way?” Julianne asked. “Maybe we should have waited to order until he got here?”

  I shook my head.

  “He’s with his dad,” Sam said.

  I turned my phone to show them his message, and they traded glances.

  Sam shrugged. “I’m sure Peter is keeping him busy.”

  The waiter returned with the waters and a bowl that looked like a mini witch’s cauldron full of melted white cheese.

  Sam dipped a chip into the queso and hummed as he chewed. “Why? Why is it so good?”

  “It’s made with love,” Carlos said with a grin.

  After the waiter walked away, Julianne frowned. “Am I the only one who feels that text isn’t like Weston?”

  “Julianne…” Sam warned.

  “Oh, c’mon, Sam. He’s insanely head over heels for our daughter and asks her about her dinner plans. When she asks him to join us, he says, ‘No, thanks.’ No. Something is wrong.”

  “Honey…” Sam said, this time more firm.

  Julianne pulled out her phone and tapped out a text.

  “You’re not texting Weston…are you?” I asked, wary.

  Her nose wrinkled. “No. I’m texting Veronica.”

  Sam snapped his wife’s phone from her palm and buried it in his lap with an awkward smile.

  Julianne’s jaw hung open.

  “Why don’t we let Erin figure it out, darling?” Sam used the tone he saved for when he was aggravated but was trying to be nice.

  “Figure what out?” I asked, my eyes dancing between my parents.

  Julianne sat back in her seat, deflated. “I’m helping too much again, aren’t I?”

  Sam leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek. “It’s one of the many things I adore about you…but yes.”

  He relinquished her phone, and she put it away.

  “Do you know something about Weston that I don’t?” I asked.

  Julianne shook her head. “No, but you might have noticed that I’m a fixer. Your dad has asked that I work on that.”

  Sam patted her on the shoulder, proud.

  I looked down, wondering what on earth was going on with Weston. I hadn’t thought too much about it, but Julianne was right. The text wasn’t like him. There were probably things to fix, and I wasn’t sure I had any more words to fix them.

  I shot off a reply.

  We’re at Los Potros. If you’re hungry, you should come.

  Weston didn’t answer, so I sent another.

  Are you upset?

  Still, there was no reply.

  Are you just busy? Can you at least let me know you’re all right?

  I’m all right.

  I slammed my phone next to me in the booth.

  Sam and Julianne were surprised by my reaction. Sam seemed a bit overwhelmed as he stroked Julianne’s shoulder, and then he reached across the table to pat my hand. Our nice family dinner had quickly gone downhill.

  I forced a grin and lifted my chin. “I’ll figure it out later. I’m okay. Weston is probably okay. We should enjoy our dinner. We don’t have many left.”

  Julianne’s eyes filled with tears, and her bottom lip began to tremble.

  “Oh no. No, no,” I said, holding out my hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Honey, please,” Sam said.

  Those around us who weren’t staring before certainly were now.

  I covered my eyes with my hand and looked down.

  Sam chuckled once, and Julianne and I both shot him a look.

  “This is real life, my loves.” He laughed again. “We are a real family.”

  I FACED FORWARD, staring at the night sky, next to Weston in the cab of his pickup truck. The engine was silent, and the cars beneath the overpass made the occasional swish that let me know I was in my beloved place. But in that moment, it wasn’t.

  Weston had barely spoken since he met me in Sam and Julianne’s drive half an hour before. He hadn’t responded to further texts, and he’d seemed more than just a little pissed off when I climbed into the passenger seat. I wouldn’t break the silence though. He had to fix whatever was bothering him this time.

  He sighed but didn’t speak. A minute went by and then another. The air was beginning to grow thick, and the cab of the truck was full of everything we hadn’t said.

  “Are you mad?” he finally asked.

  “Are you?”

  He craned his neck at me and then swallowed. “Why would I be mad?”

  After a few seconds of silent disbelief, I turned to him. “If you’re not, then why are you acting like you are?”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You’re not?”

  “I’m…nervous.”

  My expression twisted. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw Brady today.”

  “Oh.”

  “At Gose Jewelers.”

  “Oh?”

  “He said he was going to tell you what I was doing there, and it dawned on me that you might be pissed. Even though”—he squirmed in his seat—“it’s not meant to piss you off.”

  He kept his eyes forward and held up his arm between us, across the seat. He was pinching his class ring between his index finger and thumb. It was a thick gold band with black etchings—our class year on one side, a baseball on the other. The gem was garnet, meant to signify our primary school color and mascot, the Maroon Spirit. The band was a lot smaller than the last time I’d seen it. It was definitely too small to fit on any of his fingers.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You…had your ring sized?”

  “To fit your finger.”

  “The necklace wasn’t enough?”

  He faced me, dismayed. “Brady was right. You’re pissed.”

  “I’m not…pissed. I just thought that maybe you might have asked before doing something so drastic.” I raised my hands, fingers spread apart. “I don’t wear rings, Weston.”

  He let his hand fall.

  “It’s really sweet,” I said.

  “I had it all planned out. It wasn’t until Brady reminded me that I remembered. You’re…you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, offended.

  His shoulders fell, and he looked out his window. He shook his head. “Nothing.” His head fell back against his headrest, and he blew out a breath.

  “You asked me to say that I needed you. I did because I do. You asked for promises. I made them. Now, you want to put a ring on my finger.”

  “Just until I can save up for a real one.”

  “A real what?”

  He expectantly looked over at me, waiting for the answer to come to me.

  I snapped my open mouth shut. “No. No. I don’t want that, not yet.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s going to take me a while. The ones I saw at Gose’s were expensive.”

  My mouth turned dry, and my lungs weren’t getting enough air. “What is this obsessive need you have to put a leash on me? I’ve been waiting my whole life to get out of here and be free, and it’s like you can’t wait to put me back on a chain!”

  Weston suddenly appeared very tired. “Yep. You’re pissed.”

  “I’m not pissed! I can’t…I love you, but I can’t keep…you have to stop!”

  “Just say it.”

  “Say what?” The tone of my voice scared me more than his words.

  “You’re going to start packing soon. I figure
d you would say it at some point before.”

  My chest hurt with searing physical pain. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to push me away? Does everything really have to be the way you want it or not at all?”

  Weston held up the ring. “Does this look like I’m pushing you away?”

  I looked at the ring, my heart breaking. “Why is this so hard?” I looked down. “It shouldn’t be this hard.”

  “No, it shouldn’t.”

  I peeked over at him. “Can’t you just be patient? This is a lot for me.”

  His jaw flitted under his skin. “You’re leaving the day after tomorrow. I don’t wanna…if you don’t want the ring, that’s fine. I should have known better. Erin…I’m…” He formed his mouth around the breath he blew out. “I’m just going to let you go. I think that’s best.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?” I asked. “Because I won’t wear that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I puffed like the air had been knocked out of me. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  He faced forward, clenching his teeth. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  I winced. “Yes.”

  The truck engine revved, and he threw the gear into drive, surging forward until we were on the other side of the overpass. He yanked the wheel to the left, flipping us in a one-eighty, and then stomped on the gas. We practically flew to my house. He didn’t pull into the drive. Instead, he stopped at the curb just long enough for me to climb down. I didn’t even get the door shut before he pulled away, the sudden forward motion closing it for me.

  Weston’s truck quickly rounded the corner, but I made sure to get inside before I could hear whether he went home or drove away. I didn’t want to know.

  I tried to be quiet as I walked up the stairs, but just as I reached the top, Julianne called my name.

  “Everything all right?”

  “No,” I said, sitting on the stairs in a huff. “He’s mad at me—again.”

  “What happened?”

  “He sized his class ring. He wanted me to wear it. He had it all planned out and wanted it to be special, but I freaked out and ruined the whole thing. I think he broke up with me.”

  Julianne’s cheeks filled with air, and then she slowly blew it out, looking to be in deep thought. “Whoa.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well…” She climbed the stairs. Her white satin robe caught the moonlight coming in from the window over the door. “Gosh,” she said, sitting a couple of stairs below me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Want me to wake up Dad?”

  “No,” I said, hating the whiny sound in my voice. “We’ve had such a good summer. And I’ve told Weston everything he wants to hear. I think we can make it work. But none of that is good enough. He wants a necklace around my neck and a ring on my finger. And now, he’s talking about real rings.”

  “Real what?”

  “Not until later,” I clarified.

  Julianne nodded, relieved. “Oh my, he’s got it bad.”

  “Literally. And not in a teenage colloquialism way either.”

  Julianne breathed a laugh out of her nose. “I don’t know about that, but it does seem like you keep having the same conversation.”

  “Ad nauseam.”

  “Okay, so maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to take a break. You’ll be busy packing for the next couple of days, and then you’ll be moving to Stillwater. Once you’re settled in and comfortable with your classes, you can give him a call.”

  I frowned. “I feel like that’s what he wants. I feel like he’s pushing me away—unintentionally, yet he’s doing it on purpose.”

  “He’s testing you.”

  I pointed at her. “Yes.”

  “Because he’s insecure.”

  “Yes.” I thought about that for a while. “You’re right. We need some space. He has to figure this out. I can’t do it for him.”

  She leaned her cheek against my knee. “I’m in his boat.”

  “You mean that he’s a fixer, too?”

  “He wants all the ducks in a row in a way that makes sense to him. Like your dad said, he’s trying to control the only thing he can because everything else feels so far out of his reach.”

  “I shouldn’t fault him for that. Shouldn’t I love him through it?”

  “You can but not at the expense of your needs.”

  I felt sick. “This is all way too grown-up for me. I don’t feel equipped to handle this.”

  “Oh, you are. That’s the problem. Things would be so much easier on him if you behaved like a typical eighteen-year-old girl in love, put the ring on your finger, and begged for a diamond sooner rather than later. He needs a little while to catch up, to see things from a reasonable perspective, but it’ll happen.”

  “I feel sorry for him,” I said. “He deserves someone that can be all giddy about this stuff.”

  “I don’t,” Julianne said without hesitation. “You’re being smart about this. He’ll respect you for it later.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. He’s panicking. It’ll pass.”

  I hugged my mother, and then I hurried up the stairs, falling into bed with my cell phone in hand.

  You’re panicking. It’ll pass.

  After several minutes with no response, I put my cell phone on the nightstand.

  Rain began to thump against the window. The thunder rumbled first, far off in the distance. Before long, lightning crackled beyond the borders of my window, flashing in pulses into my bedroom.

  I tried not to think about Weston, but it became impossible. A few regrets but mostly sweet moments kept popping into my mind. Once, I had fantasized about what it might be like to be loved by Weston Gates. Now, time had turned inside out, and love was a ridiculous roller coaster, an ultimatum, an impasse—at least, what was left of it.

  My heart broke as my thoughts turned just as dark as the night between the lightning. He’d just wanted to give me his ring. It was such a puppy-love thing to do.

  Why have I acted so offended by his every attempt to hold on to me?

  It seemed like we were having two very different conversations. Rings, necklaces, and promises aside…I was jeopardizing our relationship for refusing to love him his way instead of mine.

  Can I really say good-bye to the boy I’ve dreamed about since before I knew what love was?

  A horrible realization hit. Is it already too late?

  A soft knock on the door prompted me to lift my head.

  “Any word?” Julianne whispered from the doorway.

  “No. Have you heard from Veronica? Is he home?”

  She nodded. “He’s home.”

  I lay back against my pillow. “Good.”

  “He’ll come around. Try to get some sleep,” she said with her soft mom voice. She disappeared into the dark hall.

  Thunder rolled over our house, louder than it had been since the storm began. Part of me wanted to stomp across the rain-soaked lawns and pound on his door until he listened, but we had gone back and forth for nearly three months. He was desperate, and I was beginning to think I was broken.

  Despite the heavy thoughts bouncing around in my head, the rain slowly sang me to sleep. I dreamed of emerald-green eyes, soft fingertips on my skin, and a lonely empty dorm room.

  When my eyes opened, I waited for relief or the feeling of a second chance, a tiny shred of hope. It never came.

  I rolled over onto my side, ignoring the chipper birds on the branches outside my window and the sunshine pouring through the sheer curtains. Everything Weston had ever said to me scrolled through my mind like credits, read in his soothing deep voice. I already missed him. My hand shot out from under the blanket and took my phone from the night table. I was almost afraid to look.

  But I did, and the display read exactly the way I’d expected it to. There was nothing. I wondered what he was doing at that moment—if he were awake, if he were keeping busy, if he were wo
ndering about me or trying not to, if he regretted molding his ring into the shape of my finger.

  “Erin?” Sam called from downstairs. “Up and at ’em, babycakes! We’ve got a big day!”

  The hours dragged on with organizing, packing, and shopping. It would have been nice if packing had kept my mind from Weston, but the more I tucked away, the further he felt.

  On moving day, Sam stacked Julianne’s SUV with boxes and bags, rearranging it all at least twice until he was satisfied with the way it fit.

  “I’m not going to cry,” Julianne said. “It’s just a car ride. We’ve driven to Stillwater a hundred times. This is no different. We’re just…taking our only child to…I’m going to cry,” she said, her breathing suddenly labored.

  “No, you’re not,” Sam said, handing her a tumbler with a straw. “Chamomile. Sip and think of how brilliant your daughter will be and all that money she will make to help keep you and me in the finest retirement home.”

  I smirked.

  “Well? It’s time, kiddo,” Sam said.

  Julianne’s lips pressed into a hard line as she retreated to the passenger seat and slammed the door.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked, looking around.

  “Yes. Are you?”

  I walked a few steps out into the yard and glanced each way. Weston’s truck wasn’t in the drive.

  Sam waved me back with an understanding expression. “Come on, honey. It’s time to go.”

  I nodded, deflated. “I thought he’d at least say good-bye.”

  “He still has time. Maybe he’ll come out tomorrow or something. He doesn’t leave for a few more days.”

  “I have orientation tomorrow,” I said, opening the door of my BMW.

  Sam watched as I sat in the driver’s seat. He pushed his round tortoise shell glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Try not to worry about it, honey. It’s best to focus on school now. Today is what you’ve been dreaming about for a long time. I just want you to think about that.”

  I nodded.

  Sam walked to the SUV and slid in next to Julianne. He backed out of the drive and then pulled up a bit until I did the same. We paused briefly at the Stop sign, and then they pulled onto Chrysler Avenue, turning east.