Chapter 27
I grabbed my keys and a sweatshirt, shoved my feet into my flip-flops, and yanked the door open just as my startled roommate Emmy reached for the knob.
“Oh!” she squeaked.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” I moved aside to let her pass.
“You’re going out?” she asked, surprised.
“Yeah. I know, big shock, right?”
“Yes. I mean no!” She gestured at my outfit. “Um, kind of.”
The sweatshirt I threw on had a red paisley design and big surf logo on the back. It looked a little conspicuous on top of my blue plaid BYU flannel drawstring pajama bottoms. I shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
“Okay, but your hair . . .”
I reached up to feel the wild mess that had formed after I’d shoved my fingers through it several times while I studied. I dug inside of my purse and fished out an elastic. “Thanks,” I said, wrangling my hair back into a ponytail.
“No problem,” she called as I closed the door behind me and stormed to the Jeep.
By the time I hit University Avenue, I was seething. Fury that Matt’s double-dealing hadn’t ended with the Ryder deception fueled me, and I whipped through the turn leading into the shopping center and maintained a barely contained crawl through the crowd of diners milling about and window shopping. I had no idea where the Board Shack was, but I was determined to find it and figure out how Matt had stolen The List. Frustrated, I steered toward the back of the complex where the larger retailers were, looking for a place to turn around.
There it was. A huge, two-story building with shiny new display windows loomed in front of me, its size making its sign, The Shack, either a nice touch of irony or the biggest misnomer ever. Other than the external security lights, it looked dark and vacant. I pulled into one of the empty spots in front and stared at it, my sails slightly deflated.
I glanced at the dashboard clock. I hadn’t really thought through my plan, but if I had, maybe it would have occurred to me to wonder if Matt would even be at work at eight thirty on a Saturday night. In Provo. Where there were lots of single girls. That he was free to date.
Not that I cared.
I climbed out of the Jeep, curious now that I was here. A huge banner hung over the main doors announcing, Grand Opening Soon! The window on the left showed two mannequins in snowboarding gear. The female wore a blue knit cap and scarf identical to the ones that had shown up on my porch two weeks before.
As I passed the front doors to check out the other window, a light winked on inside, startling a jump out of me. Two figures bustled around, guys in work clothes. I tugged at the door and it glided open. Stoking my anger again, I strode in. The two guys both looked up from their clipboard to stare.
Before either of them could speak, I snapped, “Is Matt Gibson here?”
One of them nodded and pointed toward the motionless escalator in the center of the store. A pair of sneakers at the end of denim-clad legs was descending it like a set of stairs. I felt my stomach flip, knowing it was him.
“Jeff, I need the layout plan for the men’s—” he called, but broke off when he saw me standing there. He stopped halfway down, and the still escalator gave the whole scene the uncanny sense of a frozen tableau.
“Ashley,” he said quietly. “It’s good to see you.”
“Do you have my list?” I asked.
He looked wary and took the last steps down to ground level.
“What makes you think I have it?” he asked, his voice soft and even.
“Karaoke? Sushi? The triathlon? I never told Ryder about that stuff. You, I mean. Are you going to tell me it’s a coincidence that you knew about them?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No.”
I waited. His workers looked on, fascinated.
He stepped closer and took my arm, steering me back toward the escalator. “Why are you here, Ashley?” he asked, his voice low.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, pulling my arm free.
“I asked first.”
“No, I did. Let me remind you of the question. Do you have my list?”
“Let’s take this upstairs. My guys need to work,” he added, his voice raised to cue his employees. They bent their heads over their clipboard again and pretended to ignore the unfolding drama.
“Fine,” I said and began marching up the escalator steps. I got to the top and made it a few yards onto the floor before I realized I didn’t know where to go. It was a maze of empty fixtures and open boxes full of clothes. Matt hung back at the escalator, watching me in amusement.
“What?” I snapped.
“Nothing. It’s just nice to see you haven’t changed.”
“It hasn’t even been two months,” I said. “Were you expecting a personality transplant?”
He walked over to finger a wayward curl bouncing near my cheek. “Of course not. I wasn’t expecting you at all. But I love that you’re still marching around, bossing people around.”
“I’m not bossy.” I knocked his hand away. “Stop doing that.”
“No.” He grinned. “Not bossy at all.”
“I’m glad you find this all so stinking hilarious, Matt, but I don’t. I want The List.”
He held my gaze for several seconds, testing me, checking for something. I refused to look away. I don’t know what he found, but with a slight nod, he broke eye contact and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He slid out a worn piece of notebook paper, silently handing it to me.
I unfolded it to find my original list, unchanged except for the new crease marks it had earned in his wallet. I stared at it blankly.
“How did you get this?” I asked, needing the details.
“You dropped it back in June, at Institute. It was in a pile of papers you asked me to throw away. I noticed just before I was about to toss it out. I thought you might need it so I took a closer look and figured out what it was.”
“You’ve had this since June? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you give it back to me?”
He sighed and wandered to the rail overlooking the first floor, resting his arms on it. “Because I’m selfish.”
I was quiet for a minute, trying to figure out how I felt about Matt carrying my list around with him for almost five months, even after I told him I was done with him.
“What do you mean?” I finally asked.
“I mean when I realized what I had fished out of your garbage pile, all I could think was that it might come in handy and I needed to hold on to it.”
“Come in handy how? We barely knew each other at that point. Why would a list entitled ‘25 Things to Do Before I Get Married’ help you?”
“You didn’t come here to forgive me or give me another chance, did you?” he asked, sounding sad.
“No. I came to figure out why all seven things I crossed off The List this summer were connected to you. I know how, but I don’t know why. Just answer the question and I’ll leave you to your work,” I said gesturing at the hundreds of unopened boxes piled around us.
“It’s because of the stingray,” he said.
“The stingray?” Whatever I had expected, it wasn’t that.
“I guess it would be more accurate to say it’s because of the first time I saw you on that surfboard. I couldn’t believe you’d just been nailed by a stingray and were out in the water, ready to give it a try again. I don’t know anyone else who would do that. I was already curious about you, but that day when I watched you take fall after fall off your board and get back up . . .” He turned to face me. “I knew you were something special, Ashley. And I knew I’d do almost anything to find out more.”
“But—” He held up his hand.
“Let me finish,” he said. I snapped my mouth closed.
“You kept a distance right from the very first time I talked to you at the linger longer,” he said. “It was always there. You had this arm’s-length thing going on at
all times, and it seemed like every time I dipped beneath the surface with you that first night after our barbecue, you pushed me away with a joke or something.”
“I didn’t—”
“Ashley, seriously, stop. I need to get this out now before I lose my nerve.”
I shut up, surprised.
“I’m not going to even ask you what you think about love at first sight,” he said. “I already know the answer. A few months ago, I would have said it was bogus too. I don’t know if what I felt for you was love at first sight or not, but by the end of that first night in Laguna, I knew you were exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
I didn’t dare interrupt him. He walked over to a pile of boxes and dug through it, straightening when he held a familiar blue cap and scarf.
“Recognize this?”
I swallowed and nodded.
“I have never known anyone as independent as you,” he said. “And for some reason, I’m overcome with this urge to take care of you, anyway, to make sure you have everything you need.” He dropped the set back in the box. “You make it really hard.”
He made his way back to me and brushed the same errant curl out of my face again. “I knew you were only in HB for the summer, Ashley. I figured it would be a good place to start something since I would be up here all winter to keep it going. You made it clear you wanted none of that, and there’s a certain stubbornness about you that told me if I pushed, you’d push back. I figured the only shot I had was removing your obstacles quietly one by one. And then you literally put your list in my hands.” He brushed it with his fingertips. I didn’t jerk it away. “I thought maybe it was divine intervention or something,” he said, smiling. “Now I can see how stupid that is, but in the moment, I figured fate had thrown me a lifeline.”
“We don’t believe in fate,” I mumbled, dazed.
“Then it must have been an answer to a prayer,” he said. “I’m tired of talking about this, so I’m going to give you the honesty I owed you all along. I already lost you on the beach, so I don’t really have anything left to lose.”
He framed my face in his hands and The List fluttered to the floor unnoticed.
“I love you, Ashley Barrett. I love every pigheaded inch of you. I love your sense of adventure, your loyalty to your family, your intelligence, your spirit, your testimony. I fell in love with you somewhere between your Star Wars Band-Aid and your defense of that kid’s weak rhymes on Laguna Beach. I figured it out when it ate me up inside every time you ignored one of my phone calls this summer and chatted with Ryder for hours instead. I wanted you to want all of me, not just the nonthreatening friend side of me.”
He pressed his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. “More than anything, I’m so sorry I disappointed you. I never meant to hurt or embarrass you, and I’d give anything to do it over again, to rewind the summer and pick a point to say, ‘I don’t agree to your terms and I’m coming after you, anyway.’ I should have fought for you openly. Please know that all those activities I begged Louisa to set up for—karaoke and sushi, all those other items I knocked out on your list—”
He broke off and stepped back, replacing his hands in his pockets. “I did it because I wanted a shot with you, and it’s what ended up costing me any chance at all. I thought doing those things would make you happy. I realize it was arrogant. I hope you can forgive me, Ashley, or I’ll never forgive myself.”
His eyes were bright with feeling and he stayed very still, like he was afraid I would skitter away if he made any sudden movements.
I didn’t know what to say. Stepping hesitantly toward him, I tried to find words to explain the crazy jumble of feelings rioting inside me. He loves me, I thought. He’s everything I never knew I wanted, and he’s putting everything on the line for me. When only a few inches separated us, I reached up to touch his mouth, feeling the slight increase in his breath against my fingertips. The anger that fueled my drive over had evaporated when The List slipped from my fingers, and all the loneliness I’d denied feeling from the moment I left him on the beach washed away in a tide of wild, exultant joy.
He still said nothing, but his eyes darkened, the green deepening with need and hope at whatever he read in my face. The rush of emotion pushed higher and harder as he slowly lowered his mouth to mine. This is it, Ashley. This is worth giving up the last of your goals. Two inches forward and you can have Matt forever.
I heard the snick of metal as a door somewhere near the back of the store opened. “Matt, where’s the layout for men’s winter gear?” a female voice asked. I leaped back. A moment later, Louisa rounded the stack of boxes and stopped in surprise.
“Ashley! What are you doing here? Is it because of the hat? I told Matt it was a stupid idea and that he should call instead, but I guess he was right.” She gave him an affectionate slug on the arm, but his lack of response wiped the smile off her face. “You fixed it, didn’t you, Matt? You told her everything?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I jerked back a few more steps, suddenly terrified of the whirlpool of emotions that had nearly sucked me into Matt’s vortex. “I can’t do this,” I said to him again, pleading with him to understand something I couldn’t. “I don’t see you for two months, and it still only takes you two minutes to convince me to drop everything again.”
He didn’t say anything. Sensing I was ready to run, Louisa said, “Wait. I know this is none of my business, but Matt showed me The List so I could help him set some of the stuff up. All you have left is guitar lessons and being a movie extra. It’s not that big a deal, right? And Matt would totally support you in getting a master’s degree. You guys can work this out. I know you can.”
“It doesn’t work that way with Matt.” I directed my gaze toward him, dragging my eyes to meet his despite the hurt I saw brimming there. “I know you say you respect what I want and that you’re a willing sidekick, but in one summer, you had me backing down from a life plan I’ve followed for six years like it was nothing. I can’t risk some unintentional diversion from my education that makes me resent you later.”
“But Matt isn’t like that!” Louisa protested and would have continued until Matt shook his head.
“I want you to be happy, Ashley,” he said, looking as unhappy as I’d ever seen him.
“It’s good to see you, Louisa,” I said, then burst into tears and fled to the escalator, ignoring Matt’s distressed call behind me.
Chapter 28
Once, when I was six, I had a really bad week. I had the chicken pox and a stomach flu, and I was an itchy, feverish, puketastic mess. Until now, that had always stood as my Worst Week Ever.
Matt’s bombshell on Saturday night had set off a record-breaking week of awfulness, but all the symptoms were internal. He seemed to be inside my head and under my skin and everywhere at once. The ad blitz The Board Shack ran made him impossible to ignore. I dove into Communist art propaganda with single-minded dedication, tore through my stacks of grading so fast I offered to take some off the other teaching assistant’s hands just to stay busy, and I still couldn’t crowd out thoughts of Matt.
I was desperate to shake them, to quiet the echoes of his confession, to drown out the pain I saw in his eyes before I took off. Nights were the worst. My best defenses wavered in the moments before sleep, and then I would replay the whole scene in my head, struggling with fears that bled into my dreams. I woke up tired and emotionally spent before the day began.
I dragged myself out of my last class on Wednesday, exhausted from four nights of restless sleep. As I trudged down Maeser hill toward home, the crisp October breeze whipped a loose copy of the campus newspaper into my path and plastered it across my chest. I peeled it off and bit back a squeal of frustration when I saw the full-page ad on the back. The Board Shack Opens This Saturday!!! the huge bold type screamed.
That was it! I could not take one more Matt intrusion into my life. It felt like he and his store had invaded every corner of Provo. Every time I tried to take
a breath and sort through my thoughts, shore up my conviction that being with him meant losing myself, the radio would blare an invitation to the opening and I found myself thinking, Stop fighting. Just admit how you feel, and you won’t have to run away anymore.
“No!” I said firmly, earning a startled glance from a student groundskeeper raking up leaves.
When my phone shrilled, I grabbed it, grateful for the distraction.
“Yeah?” I growled.
“Ash?” It was Juliana, sounding out of breath.
“Yeah. What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing! I was doing my ab exercise DVD and Sadie decided to make it extra challenging by bouncing on my stomach between every crunch,” she said and laughed.
“Ouch.” I winced. She laughed again.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Nothing, really. I was just thinking you might need a niece and nephew fix, so I thought maybe you could swing by to see us tonight.”
“At approximately dinner time?” I bargained.
“Of course.”
“Sure. I’d love to see the kids.”
“Good. And now that Grady’s been released from the bishopric, he’ll actually be home too.”
“Great. I’ll be there in an hour or two,” I promised.
We hung up and I picked up my pace toward home. I had one incredibly dry critical theory article to annotate and then I’d be on the road to Juliana’s. Since she lived in Herriman, I saw her more often than Leila, who was all the way up in Ogden. This was just what I needed. Nothing could renew my determination to avoid marriage faster than a visit with my one of my sisters and her wild brood of kids. At home, I flew through the assigned reading, then grabbed a basket of dirty clothes to wash and pointed my Jeep toward Juliana’s house. It was time to grow a new backbone in the fertile soil of her crazy life.
* * *
Grady pushed away from the dining room table with a groan. “Awesome as usual, wife.”
“Thanks, husband,” Juliana grinned, then caught a chicken nugget flying past her head without blinking. She set it back on Sadie’s high chair tray. Her daughter grinned and hefted another nugget like she was testing its aerodynamic properties.
The List Page 28
