“What about you?” he asked eventually. “What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?”
Shit. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that by asking I would have to share the same information. My first instinct was to lie. I could tell him about when my grandmother died or about how terrible and scary it had been to see Mrs. Donovan get so sick.
Emily had said I should be open with him, tell him things about my past. In the darkness, I took a deep breath. Here goes.
“There were a lot of rumors about me, in high school,” I said, my voice small against his chest. “I guess because I liked hanging out with guys. I dated a lot and never really had a steady boyfriend. And I guess…a lot of it was because of how I looked.” I laughed bitterly. “You’d think being the girl with the big hair and the biggest boobs would be a good thing, but let me assure you, it’s not.”
“Girls can be so awful,” John said, tightening his arms around me.
“You have no idea, buddy.” I sighed. “Anyhow, most of them were just that: rumors. Stuff started by jealous or pissed off girls. I tried not to let it bother me, you know? Up until that point, I hadn’t even slept with anyone. But then, sophomore year…there was this girl who hated me, Justine. She told everyone I was sleeping with our math teacher.”
I was quiet for a minute, the shame of those weeks coming back full force, as if it had just happened. “Mr. Castovas was a new teacher that year, younger than the rest of the staff. The truth was, I had a huge crush on him; all the girls did. I even started taking tutoring sessions after school. But it had been completely innocent, just a silly sixteen- year-old crush. But after Justine started telling people I was sleeping with him…It was terrible. Everyone believed it. Everyone was talking about it. It even got back to the administration. I had to go in and talk to my guidance counselor. They told my parents.”
I remembered the way Mr. Castovas had changed toward me after that. I couldn’t blame him, he had to protect his job. But he no longer smiled at me, no longer joked around with me after class. My poor sixteen-year-old heart had been broken, which was nearly as painful as having to endure the taunts and whispers of the other girls, the leers and propositions from the boys.
The one good thing about the whole mess had been my parents’ response. I was mortified when they were informed, but they surprised me. They never looked at me differently, never expressed a single doubt. Instead, they were absolutely furious on my behalf. Along with Emily, Paul, and Chris, they had been my strongest allies over those terrible weeks when I was sixteen.
“Anyway,” I continued, trying to block out the embarrassment that was even now coloring my cheeks. “It turned into open season on me. The idle gossip about me turned into kind of a full-time thing. A lot of kids at school assumed I was a slut, and they wouldn’t let it go. School pretty much sucked after that.”
“I’m sorry, Brooke,” John said, kissing the top of my head. “That’s really crappy.”
“It was,” I agreed. “It kind of messed me up for a while, you know? I started drinking at parties, acting out and stuff. Over spring break I met up with this guy, this college-aged kid. My parents hated him, so of course I kept it up, even though he was kind of creepy and was always pressuring me to go farther. I ended up sleeping with him.” I shut my eyes tight, a vision of Cal’s dark dorm room flashing before my eyes. I decided John didn’t need all the gory details, didn’t need to know about how I’d been unsure the whole time, how Cal had told me I’d led him on and that no one liked a tease. How I had cried afterward for an hour, trying to be quiet so he wouldn’t hear me.
“I was so ashamed of myself. It made me feel dirty and slutty, which was pretty much what everyone thought of me anyhow. After that, I guess I just started to believe them. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I was a slut.”
“You know that’s BS now, don’t you?”
“Most of the time.”
“Brooke—”
“No, I do, really. But I can’t say it hasn’t affected me over the years. I’m probably a bit more promiscuous than I would have been otherwise. Emily says I’m still trying to get control of my sexuality, since I let other people dictate it for so long.” I laughed bitterly. “Who knows, maybe she’s right.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Brooke,” he said, calmly and evenly. “I’m crazy about every single thing you are, you know that right?”
I squeezed him against me in the darkness. That was exactly the thing I needed to hear right then. “Thanks,” I whispered.
John fell asleep shortly after that, but I remained awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of his breathing and thinking. Many long talks with Emily had helped me to come to terms with my behavior. Instead of hiding from how I looked, from how people saw me, I eventually began to embrace it. I dressed in the cute clothes I liked, even though they showed off my figure, instead of hiding behind baggy, shapeless sacks. I drank and swore and hung out with the guys because it was what felt natural for me. And if I wanted to hook up with a guy, I would do it, and the critics could be damned. Sometimes I took it all too far, which I knew was just another way of being controlled by my own image. It was a tough balance to find, acting for myself instead of for others, and sometimes I wondered if I even came close.
Lying there in the darkness with John, I wondered how far I had really come from that girl in the dark dorm room, willing to sleep with someone because it was what was expected of her. Was it really so different from what I was doing now, accepting the parameters of a relationship because it was what someone else wanted, and what everyone else expected of me?
I finally fell asleep around three a.m., my eyes red and swollen from the tears I had tried to cry quietly, so John wouldn’t hear me.
Chapter Twenty-three
I had a hard time getting back into the swing of things when we returned to Alpena. Work seemed boring to me, pointless. We were getting closer to high season, but I found little excitement when I thought of it. I kept thinking about what my mom had said on New Year’s—that she didn’t want me to get stuck here. Is that what was happening? Had I reached the point where I couldn’t do anything more to improve the inn? Maybe it was as good as it would get as long as I wasn’t completely in charge.
I was having a hard time being away from John as well. It had been so perfect to get to sleep next to him every night, to wake up with him in the morning. Going back to our routine of lunch dates and snagging spare moments was nothing in comparison.
I thought constantly about what Emily had said, to the point that I was messing up at work. Every time I considered talking to John, I got a panicky feeling inside. I had never once in my life asked a guy to give me more than he was willing to give. It was uncharted territory for me.
The first Saturday in April was inventory day, never a pleasing prospect, but worse by far this month because it was the quarterly inventory, a much more in-depth, detailed task. I knew that most of the staff dreaded it, not that I could blame them, and getting enough of them to help me required a blend of cajoling and bribery.
“I’m starving,” Kellie moaned after a few hours of work. “I’ve, like, never been so tired in my entire life.”
I rolled my eyes at my drama queen hostess. “I guess it’s a good thing you work in a restaurant, eh?”
She made a face at me. “Mrs. Miller made fish today.”
“Yeah?”
“I hate fish.”
I sighed. “Kell, we’re almost done in here and then you’re off the hook. Can you just hang in here with me?”
“Fine,” she said sullenly. “But you did promise pizza.”
“I will go and get the pizza as soon as we’re finished in the dining room, okay?”
Kellie brightened slightly before finally turning her attention back to the flatware she was counting.
I left her at the table, and went to see how Paul was getting on with his bar inventory. At the very least, I figured I could expect less whining from him.
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“Kellie getting on your nerves?” he asked, as I joined him behind the bar.
“You would think she hasn’t eaten in a week,” I muttered.
“It is almost two,” he pointed out. “Well past lunch time.”
“Is it really?” I asked in surprise, looking down at my watch. “Wow, how’d it get so late?”
Paul laughed. “Typical Brooke Murray. Lost in her work, expecting everyone else to display the same work ethic.”
“I’ll call on the pizza,” I said, abashed. “Any requests?”
“Whatever,” he said. “If it’s pizza I’ll eat it.”
I called the order in, promising myself that I’d make it up to the staff with free beer from the bar.
“How’s it going in here?” I asked Paul once I’d ended the call. I peered over his shoulder at his clipboard. “Almost done?”
“Just about.”
It had been ages since I’d been this close to Paul. Something seemed different about him—was he wearing a new aftershave? I tried to sniff his neck without him noticing. Yup, definitely not wearing Old Spice anymore. His new scent was nice and all, but I preferred the way he usually smelled.
Things had been slightly off between the two of us in the months I’d been seeing John. Paul hadn’t said anything about it, but I couldn’t help but notice he was distant from me now, not so eager to find me for a chat or ask me out for a drink. I’d been so caught up in John that I hadn’t let it bother me, but now, alone with Paul behind the bar, I realized how much I had missed him.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, moving away from his shoulder so I could look up at him.
“I have plans,” he said, a little shortly. But then he smiled. “I’m sure I’ll end up at Hardy’s. Big and exciting night life around here, you know.”
I laughed. “Don’t they all end that way?”
“Not for you, these days,” he said, turning away from me and pulling out a stack of bar napkins. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you at Hardy’s. Or anywhere else for that matter.”
I squirmed a little, and was glad he wasn’t looking at me.
“I guess I’ve just been busy,” I said.
Paul didn’t respond, but a tense silence fell over us. I wished I could figure out how to make things right between the two of us. We’d been such good friends for so long, and I wasn’t the kind of girl to ditch a friend, regardless of their gender, just because I had a new boyfriend. Before I could think of anything to say to ease the tension, Paul turned back to me. “You better go if you want to get that pizza. You don’t want to hear the amount of whining Kellie will do if it’s cold.”
“Right,” I said. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
It was raining outside, a steady, cold downpour, as I climbed into my truck for the short drive to Carl’s Pizzeria. Unfortunately, when I got there, Carl had no record of my order.
“Sorry, Brooke,” he said, looking harried. “I’m training a new kid today. It looks like he didn’t get it entered into the computer. Can you wait a bit for us to make it? It will be on me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Carl,” I said. “It’s nice to get out of the inn for a few minutes. I’ll just sit and relax.”
“You’re the best,” Carl said, grinning at me before hurrying through the swinging doors into the kitchen. I heard the muffled sounds of him bellowing and felt bad for the new kid.
Carl’s Pizzeria had been around my entire life. It was a smallish place, cozy and warm and filled with the smell of garlic. The décor was kitschy, red carpets, dark paneled walls, with red and white checked tablecloths on every table. I settled myself on the bench in the lobby and leaned back, closing my eyes. I had been feeling unsettled all day. John was spending the day with Lainey, a whole father-daughter bonding experience that he had offered very little information on. I sighed, thinking about it. It was a silly thing to be upset about, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. His refusal to tell me the smallest details about his life with his daughter was grating on me. Add to that the awkwardness with Paul and the annoyance of inventory, and I was building up to having a pretty crappy day.
Suddenly, on the other side of the lobby’s half-wall, I heard a familiar voice. I opened my eyes and peered around the potted plant next to me. Sure enough, John was sitting at a nearby table, Lainey across from him. His back was to me, but I could tell he was happy; Lainey was giggling at something, and I could hear the muffled sound of his returning laughter. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Lainey; her entire face was lit up as she gazed up at her dad. It was clear that she adored him. She had the same dark eyes and hair as he did, but, watching her now, I could see that her features must have favored her mom’s. While John’s face was broad and handsome, his skin a darker olive, Lainey was delicate and fair, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose.
I had the strongest urge to go and sit with them, not even to participate in their lunch, but just to watch them together. I found myself longing to know how their relationship went, how they interacted with each other, what John was like as a dad. He must be amazing, to keep her from freaking out about so many changes in her life. Looking at her, she didn’t seem like a kid suffering from major upheaval; she looked like a kid who was very happy to be spending a day with her dad.
Suddenly, she looked over in my direction, and I pulled back behind the fern, startled and scared. I put a hand to my heart, feeling ridiculous. I was spying on John and his kid from behind a fern. How on earth had I fallen so low? My natural instinct was to go over and say hello; I was not a hiding-behind-ferns kind of girl. But what could I do? I knew John would be uncomfortable with me coming to his table. Respect his boundaries, I told myself. Luckily Carl appeared moments later with my pizzas and I was able to hurry out to my truck, leaving John and Lainey behind. My feelings were not so easy to leave in the pizza parlor. I was irritated with John for keeping me from his life and irritated with myself for just taking it. And most of all, I was sad. Sad that I had no relationship with the little girl who was clearly as crazy about John as I was. Sad that he didn’t care about me enough to want me to know her.
The rest of the day dragged by. I had trouble concentrating on the inventory and lost count of my hand towel check no fewer than four times. I finally finished with my inventory around seven, completely fed up with my obsessive thoughts about John, Lainey, and our relationship. I have to get out of here, I realized, standing up from my desk. Seeing John was out of the question, but that didn’t mean I had to sit around waiting for him. I had other friends, after all. I hurried out to the bar, eager to find Paul. I was surprised to find the back-up bartender, Shirley, in his place. “Hey,” I said. “Where’s Paul?”
Shirley, a rather grumpy woman in her mid fifties, shrugged at me. “No idea. He said he needed the night off and asked me to come in. I would have thought you’d see it on your schedule.”
She had a point; I did approve all the schedules for the inn and restaurant. Yet another thing I had let slip since John came back. Suddenly I remembered my conversation with Paul that afternoon; he had told me he had plans, but I had assumed he meant for after work. “We’ll probably end up at Hardy’s,” he had said. Making up my mind in an instant, I grabbed my purse from my office. The inn would survive one night without me.
I pulled up in front of Hardy’s ten minutes later and scanned the room for Paul. Unfortunately, I found Justine first. I groaned; so much for my carefree night out. Justine was sitting alone at a table on the other side of the bar, but I was sure Nikky or some other awful girl couldn’t be far away. I pulled out my phone, figuring I would call Paul and find out where he was, maybe go and meet him. I would rather be anywhere but where Justine Marker was.
Before I could even find Paul in my contact list, I saw him across the bar, walking from the direction of the bathrooms. I smiled at the sight. Paul was dressed in faded Levis and his old Styx T-shirt. “They’re they best band ever, Brooke,” he would say firmly whenever I t
eased him about them. “The best band. Ever.”
I forgot, sometimes, how good looking Paul really was, even dressed down like this—especially dressed down like this; the consequence, probably, of having known him so well for so long. Few people could do T-shirts and jeans as well as Paul. The old material of his shirt stretched across his broad chest, the black of the fabric making his tanned forearms stand out. I could remember, quite clearly, exactly how soft that fabric felt between my fingers when I pulled it over his head. I shook my head to dispel such inappropriate thoughts. I saw Paul stop at the bar, bumping fists with someone sitting there. Whatever the guy said to him made him laugh, because he threw his head back a little, his sandy blond hair hitting the collar of his T-shirt. His hair was longer than I remembered it, and I felt a pang. Different hair, different aftershave. What else had I missed?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Finished with his conversation at the bar, Paul turned and headed straight to Justine’s table, kissing her on the top of the head before sitting down across from her. Immediately she leaned forward over the table, intent, I was sure, to show off her cleavage.
I felt a surge of rage shoot through me at the sight. Paul was with Justine? After everything she had done to me, everything we had said about her, Paul was here, on a date, with fucking Justine Marker?
I wanted to kill him. Seriously, I had a flash of what it would be like to just kill him. And her. God, what I wouldn’t have given in that moment to stride over and slap her. How dare she? How dare he?
Before I could do anything but gape at them in horror, Paul looked up, his eyes immediately meeting mine across the room. They widened slightly, but he gave no other response. He said something to Justine and got up from the table, walking directly to me. Behind him, I saw Justine turn, her eyes narrowing at the sight of me.
Paul didn’t bother with hellos. “Come here,” he said, taking me by the elbow and leading me into the little entry vestibule. Once the door closed behind us, I jerked my arm away from him.
An Unexpected Love Story (Love Story Book Two) Page 15
