I cringed at that assessment but accepted it. “Fair criticism.”
“I think we can still fix this.” Em was in her element, and it showed in the way she practically glowed while the ideas flowed from her. “You two dated for two years and the only reason you broke up was, well, you being an idiot, so it’s fixable. Now, what did you do in the past when you needed to apologize?”
I blinked at her in confusion. “Um, I said ‘I’m sorry?’”
“No, I mean, what did you do? When Kris and I have really big fights and I know it’s my fault, I usually get my mom to make this salted toffee I know he loves. And then I put up with letting him gloat about how he was right for about a day.” Em smiled over at Kris, who was at the other side of the table talking with Alec, but, from the look of amusement on his face, had probably heard everything.
That sounded incredibly complicated and unnecessary, but I didn’t say either of those things out loud. “We just said, ‘I’m sorry’ and moved on. We didn’t need presents.”
Em’s eyes grew wide. “Not even flowers?”
“Nope.”
“Huh. Weird. You’re like my parents,” Em said. She looked at me like I’d just announced I was an alien and added, “Wow.”
“I don’t think it would hurt this time, though,” Phoebe said, breaking into the conversation with a smile and a shake of her head. “Presents don’t fix things, but a little something would at least show that you put thought and effort into your apology. I think Leia deserves at least that much.”
“Exactly,” Em said, then turned back to me. “Think about it. What does she like?”
I thought of running into her at the patisserie and all the time we spent on that line over the years for free macarons and said, “Well, she likes macarons.”
Em clapped her hands excitedly. “Perfect. Could the place write ‘I’m sorry’ on the macarons? That would be a nice touch.”
“This is an apology, not a movie.” Before Phoebe could chime in with a suggestion, I added, “Or a book.”
“Fine,” Em said, looking a little disappointed. If she had her way, I’d probably be doing a full production song and dance number on the front lawn of Haddontowne Academy. “Then get her favorite flavors, show up at her house, and, well, tell her you were absolutely wrong and that you’ll never do it again.”
“And that you’re sorry, of course,” Phoebe added.
“And I think—”
I stopped Em before she could continue. “I think I’ve got it.”
Em ignored my waving hand and added, “Just be you, okay? Don’t make a list and don’t overthink it.”
“Got it,” I said, even though lists were definitely not off the table. “No overthinking.”
Phoebe reached across the table to pat my hand. “It’ll work out. Leia loves you.”
The leaden feeling came back to my stomach. “I hope she still does.”
Chapter 43
Haddontowne Academy’s campus always looked exactly how I expected a cookie cutter private school campus to look. Manicured lawn, a pretentious carved stone sign, and ivy I could tell had been trained to grow artfully up the side of the main school building. The only thing they needed to be brochure-perfect were super preppy students in uniforms lounging on the front lawn. But the only people on the campus that Saturday morning were seniors heading out of the Senior Brunch. Based on Leia’s car still sitting in her usual spot, I knew I hadn’t missed her. I propped myself on top of one of the lions flanking the sign and waited.
I stared at the little box of special order rose and pistachio macarons I’d picked up at the patisserie on my way over, feeling a little ridiculous about the whole thing. The girl at the counter had tied a sparkly red ribbon around the box and tucked a fresh flower from their display into the knot after hearing my story and handed it to me with a super sympathetic “good luck.” I felt exactly like someone out of one of Em’s favorite oldie teen movies, trying to clear up a misunderstanding with a boom box or flowers or singing a song on the school bleachers with the marching band playing background music. Those always had happy endings because they were perfectly scripted to end that way, while real life was much messier.
If I weren’t more afraid of regretting not trying, I would have already been halfway home.
The school’s heavy wooden doors opened and I hopped off the lion, scanning the groups of people in identical uniforms for a now-familiar red streak. As always, Leia stood out, gracefully picking her way down the stairs like a dancer, face tilting up to soak in the sunlight the minute she was on solid ground. Even in her ridiculous uniform shorts and blouse, she was pretty, pixie-like in every way possible.
I made my way against the flow, carefully holding the box of macarons to my chest so it couldn’t get jostled or crushed by a stray elbow, and when I finally reached Leia, held it out with my most sincere expression. “I am so sorry. I was an idiot.”
Leia seemed to take a minute to register it was me standing there and as her eyes travelled from my face to the box in my hands, I could see her facial features shift from surprise to dismay to resolutely polite. “Excuse me?”
“I screwed up. I thought breaking up would be the best for both of us, but I was wrong. I’m sorry. I want to try.”
“So now you want to try? Like you just put me on pause and suddenly, because you’ve changed your mind, you want to unpause?”
“I…” I didn’t really know how to respond to that, just tried to keep up. “Leia—”
She didn’t stop, just kept walking towards her car at a pace that made me feel like I had to speed walk to keep up. “Sorry doesn’t rewind the clock,” she said, her words clipped and tight.
“I know. I was wrong. I forgot how much you meant to me. But I want to fix this. I love you and I want to fix us.” When she didn’t say anything, I pushed the box her way and said, “I screwed up.”
Leia pushed past my arm. “You did. But people aren’t equations. You can’t just insert ‘I’m sorry’ plus pastries and get an unbroken relationship. In real life, people have real feelings and get hurt.” She took a deep breath, then stopped just long enough to look me straight in the eyes. “You’ve always sucked at emotional stuff. Dating you is like dating a Vulcan with an ego who always thinks her way is the best way and I’ve always put up with it. I always had to put in the emotional effort. And you always had to be right because your stinking logic wouldn’t let you believe otherwise. Always.” Her lips slid into a straight line. “Maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to get back together with you.” With that, she turned away from me and headed straight for the parking lot before I could say another word.
I weighed my options, then followed her. If I could just catch her and explain everything, I could probably get her to forgive me. But, before I could make it even part of the way through the parking lot, a voice behind me broke my attention. “I’m sorry, but you’re not a student here, which means I need you to leave the campus.” An angry-looking teacher in a Haddontowne Academy cardigan passed me on the walkway and physically blocked my way towards the parking lot, looking a little bit like she was ready to kick me off campus, if necessary. I opened my mouth to argue, but she made a shushing sound and shook her head at me. “Students only past this point.” Leia watched the whole thing from her car, a neutral look on her face before she slipped inside and started the car with a loud rattle.
“Fine,” I said, stepping back and turning away before the teacher could make any more threats. This hadn’t gone to plan. At all. I chucked the macarons in the nearest trashcan and pulled out my phone to text Em and Phoebe.
May
WEEK 25 GOAL: FIX THINGS
Chapter 44
“We’re late,” Alec said for about the fifth time in the past four minutes.
I blew air through my lips and suppressed my instinct to hit the accelerator as I turned onto Phoebe’s street.
“I know,” I said, and also resisted the urge to say “stop reminding me.” In
stead, I scanned the street for an empty spot and parked in front of one of Phoebe’s neighbors’ houses. “The guests aren’t supposed to show up for another three hours, so I think we’re fine. It’s just a bridal shower, so it shouldn’t be too much work to set everything up.”
“Since Em won’t return my texts about this, I hope you’re right.” He opened his door and hopped out, adding, “I try not to upset people who shoot pointy objects at things.”
I hurried to catch up with him as he headed straight for the gate leading to Phoebe’s backyard. “Phoebe never really gets mad.”
“No, she just tries to cover up that she’s about to burst into tears while saying ‘it’s okay’ over and over again,” he said as he opened the gate. Phoebe’s parents had rented a big white tent that took up most of their backyard, and the space already looked pretty cute, from the tulle bunting hung around the perimeter of the tent to the big, white, wicker chair in the far corner, a lacy parasol hanging upside down over it. There was no way Trixie was going to miss it when she drove up to the house later.
“I swear, you and Em act like she’s made out of porcelain sometimes,” I said, trying to keep the eyeroll out of my tone. “She’s not that fragile. She stands up for herself.”
“Exactly. And with that, we’re back to the fact that she’s scarily good with a weapon.”
I shook my head and laughed. I scanned the yard and tent for Phoebe or Em. “They’re lucky the weather worked out. I can’t imagine figuring out how to make this work in the rain.”
Phoebe’s dad, dressed in an apron and carrying an armful of grilling supplies, gave us a nod as he passed by on his way out to two long charcoal grills. “They’re all inside. Head on into the kitchen,” he said, nodding towards the back door. “Door’s open.”
Alec turned towards the back door and I followed him, nearly tripping over the threshold as he stopped short with a muttered, “Oh, crap.”
“What?” I tried to look around him, but he shifted so I couldn’t see anything on the other side of the screen door.
“How about you stay out here and I’ll go in and find out what they need from us?” Alec gestured towards one of the tables, which were all covered in the cute, faded vintage tablecloths Phoebe and I had picked up. “Like maybe the tablecloths need straightening or something.”
I gently pushed him out of the way, then froze as I caught sight of the reason he’d stopped. Leia was in the kitchen, sliding mini quiches from a cookie sheet onto a pink china cake stand. Her smile wavered when she saw me, but she gamely nodded our way and went back to work.
I resisted the urge to bolt back to my car, swallowing back the nausea flooding through me.
“It’s okay,” I said to Alec, forcing a deep breath, “I can do this. If I want to fix things, I can’t hide from her.”
“Your choice,” he said, under his breath, before opening the door and waving me through.
As soon as we got inside, Em saw us and flagged us over towards the kitchen island, where she was dropping little pigs in a blanket on the same plates as Leia. “Oh, Grace. Perfect. I need to go to the bathroom. Can you help Leia get the appetizers out of the oven and organized?” She looked over at Alec and added, “And Alec, you need to go help Phoebe and her mom carry out the wishing well and presents. We can’t trust you around the appetizers.”
“Excuse me, I’m perfectly trustworthy,” Alec said in a faux-insulted tone. He looked as casually as he could over at me and added, “You’ll back me up, right, Grace?”
“It’s definitely true,” Leia said in a teasing tone of voice. She looked up, but the minute her eyes met mine, she shifted them over to Em and exaggerated her nod. “I remember Em’s birthday party and Appetizergate. We were lucky her mom had backups in the freezer.”
“In my defense, my mom made the appetizers that time and she never makes her buffalo chicken potstickers for me,” He said with a slight grumble. “Phoebe’s family makes things with codfish and I don’t eat that stuff. It’s a totally safe situation.”
“Still nope. Go, they’re out in the garage.” She reached out and grabbed Alec’s sleeve to pull him with her out of the kitchen. “C’mon, they need your big, strong man arms to carry heavy stuff.”
“I have no idea why I allow myself to be subjected to so much sexist stereotyping,” he grumbled, but tossed me a worried look that I returned, before Em dragged him around the corner. The kitchen grew incredibly quiet, except for the rhythmic scrape of Leia’s spatula against the baking sheets.
“Em’s enjoying her unofficial managerial role way too much,” I joked, breaking the silence as I joined her. “Watch out, she might try to take over the world, next.”
Without looking up at me, Leia pointed at a baking sheet full of different appetizers on the stove, then to all the vintage and fancy trays laid out in a perfectly straight line on the counter in front of us.
“We have to evenly divide these up between all the platters.” She said. There was no mention of the macarons, just a slightly flat tone in her voice as she focused on gently placing a quiche on a blue and white platter that I recognized from my parents’ wedding china set.
“I figured,” I said, my own voice tight. I kept looking towards the hallway, hoping Em would come back soon. The awkward cloud in the air was painful.
She didn’t stop transferring the quiches, just waved at the second spatula Em had apparently been using. “Two of Trixie’s college friends are working on planning out a few games and Amani, Trixie’s friend—”
“I know who Amani is,” I said, “I’ve been friends with Phoebe for a long time.”
She ignored my comment. “Amani and Petur are keeping Trixie busy until the shower, and Mr. Martins is getting the grill ready. There’s a lasagna in the fridge that’s supposed to go into the oven in an hour and—”
This distant, super polite Leia was starting to get on my nerves. “What’s with the Stepford wife act?”
She dropped the quiche pan with a giant clang, cursed, and crouched down to pick up the two quiches she’d let fall on the floor. “You can’t blow up the world and then expect to be able to stick it back together again and have it exactly the same, Grace. I know we’re doing this friend thing, but I don’t need you throwing mixed signals my way every time we’re in the same place. I can’t take this rollercoaster,” she said in a way that sounded calm and conversational but that carried a stressed note throughout. “And we don’t want to ruin Trixie’s shower arguing about things, do we?” she added in a half-whisper.
That last sentence was the last straw. “Of course I don’t want to ruin my friend’s party,” I said, my voice sharper that it should have been, but I didn’t care. “It looks like you have everything handled here, as always, and I don’t need you telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. I’m going to go clip the tablecloths so they don’t fly away and ruin things.” I dropped the half-full pan of codfish croquettes on the counter, grabbed a handful of tablecloth clips, and stalked outside.
I heard the slam of the screen door as Leia followed me outside. “What was that about?”
I whipped around and tried to keep my voice level as I said, “Why are you here? Phoebe’s my friend.” I knew I was being childish, but all the frustration from the past few weeks, everything I had to hold back so we could be “adults,” and my own doubts about my decisions, all of it tumbled over me in a perfect convergence of factors and I had to dig my heels in to keep from walking away.
Her dark eyes narrowed and I recognized the spark of anger that ran across her features. I’d only seen it a few times, but I knew I’d hit on a dangerous nerve.
“Excuse me, but you don’t have a monopoly on people or friendships. I can be friends with whomever I want. And I’m not going to drop anyone just because you’re acting like a spoiled child who never learned how to share.” Angry Leia was like looking directly at a fire goddess, especially with her red-and-black hair blowing back in the wind. Beautiful and strong with a gaze that
could burn you to a crisp on the spot. Except…I’d never really had that anger turned on me before.
Instead of making me back off, like most mortals did in the path of her wrath, it fueled my own fire. “We broke up. You have your own friends. Why don’t you go spend time with them instead of monopolizing all my time with my friends, since you obviously don’t want anything to do with me?”
“Em texted me last night and said Phoebe and her mom really needed my help setting up for the shower. Was I supposed to just ignore her?”
“Oh, Em texted you, did sh—” If my hands weren’t full of clips, I would have facepalmed. Of course. Em struck again. “I’m going to kill her.”
“Excuse me, is it so awful being around me that you’d rather I left one of my friends hangi—” she dropped off mid-word as her eyes widened and a little line of realization broke through her angry expression. “Oh. Em.”
“We were played.” I said, alternating between doing a little mental happy dance at catching something Leia had missed, and anger still bubbling up in me. “I’m going to kill her,” I repeated. I dropped the tablecloth clips on the table and turned towards the house to go in and give that little meddling matchmaker a piece of my mind.
Leia reached out to catch my arm. “She was trying to help her friends,” she said, “You can’t be angry at her for that.”
I tried to shrug my arm free, but she wouldn’t let go. “Leia, back off.”
“You’re so angry right now at me and her and whatever the hell else, if you go in there, you’re going to say something you might regret. And possibly ruin the shower.”
I pulled harder, but for someone smaller than me, she had an iron grip, probably from pulling weeds and mulching things.
“Let me go.”
“Breathe,” she said in a supernaturally calm tone, “I know you’re mad, but you need to breathe.”
Practically Ever After Page 23
