by Elena Aitken
Just as she thought, there were at least half a dozen messages from Jade. She shook her head. Of course. Gwen had no doubt that Jade had been thrilled to see the post she’d been waiting for. Even if it was unintentional. Even if it had cost Gwen everything.
But Jade had no way of knowing that. It wasn’t her fault. As much as Gwen would have loved to have someone to blame for everything that had happened, the only person she had to blame was herself. And she was going to take ownership for it, right now.
Without even bothering to read the emails from Jade, she picked up her cell phone, ignoring the notifications for the missed calls, and dialed her agent’s number. She had the vague thought that she should wait until morning, but that was silly. Jade probably was the type of woman who never slept.
Just as she expected, Jade picked up halfway through the first ring.
“Gwen?”
“You know it is.” She leaned back into the pillows.
“I’m so glad you called,” Jade started. “Did you read my emails? Listen to my voicemails? What am I saying? You must have. That’s why you’re calling. Are you as excited as I am? You must be. No. You must be more excited. This is your career, after all.”
“Jade.” Gwen squeezed her eyes shut.
“There are a few things we need to work out still,” Jade continued, as if she hadn’t heard her. She likely hadn’t. “But I think it will just—”
“Jade.”
“A few phone calls and maybe a meeting,” Jade said, barely taking a breath. “You can make a meeting, can’t you? Even if you can’t, I’m sure they can just—”
“Jade!”
“Phone in and…what?”
Gwen sat up. “I didn’t read the emails.”
“What?”
“I didn’t listen to your voicemails either. That’s not why I’m calling.”
“What? I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you at least listen to my—”
“I’m done, Jade.” It felt better to say it out loud than she’d imagined it would.
“What’s done? What are you talking about?”
Gwen took a deep breath and fortified herself. “With everything. I can’t do this anymore.”
“But your post tonight—”
“It was a mistake,” Gwen said. “It was all a mistake.” That was the biggest understatement she could have made. Mistake didn’t even begin to describe it. “I’m done.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Jade said. “You got the deal, Gwen. I have the contract in my hand right now.”
It took her a second to process what Jade said. Even then, it wasn’t clear. “What deal? What are you talking about? Contract?”
“For the television show!” she practically yelled. “I told you the producers were watching you. I told you they were just waiting for you to take things to the next step. And you did. And they offered you a full eight episodes. That’s just to start, though. I mean, we’re still negotiating a movie to go with it and—”
“No.”
She didn’t even have to think about it. There was no way she could say yes. The very idea of profiting off the terrible thing she’d done to Ian made her sick. She wanted to fix things, not make them worse.
“What did you say?”
“No, Jade.” Gwen nodded to herself. The more she said it, the more certain she felt. “I said no and I meant it. I’m sorry, but I won’t be signing any contract and I definitely won’t be pursuing anything further. It was a terrible idea and I’m done with it.”
“Gwen.”
She was absolutely sure that if she was sitting in front of Jade, the agent’s mouth would be opening and closing like a dying fish at that very moment.
“You can’t mean this,” Jade said. “It’s such an amazing opportunity, Gwen. It’s your career. You’re finally getting everything you wanted.”
Gwen shook her head and a tear slipped from her eye. “No, Jade. That’s the thing. I’m not. I’m losing everything I ever wanted.”
“I really think you should at least think—”
“My mind is made up.” Gwen interrupted her again. “I’m sorry, Jade, but I need to let you go, too.”
“Let me go? Okay. We’ll talk again tomorrow when it’s not so late. I can’t believe you’re even up at one—”
“No, Jade. That’s not what I meant.” It wasn’t easy, but Gwen felt good about her decision. “I need to fire you.”
*
Despite her pushiness, Jade had become a friend over the last little while that they’d worked together, and it wasn’t easy to fire her, but it was the right decision and that at least felt good. When she disconnected the call, she turned her cell phone off. There was no doubt that Jade would call her back and if she knew her agent, she’d call more than once.
It was late, but there was no way that Gwen would be able to sleep. She was nowhere near done with the things she needed to do. She was still in her dress, crumpled now, and no doubt if she looked in the mirror, her makeup would be smeared all over her face and her hair a tangled mess. That wouldn’t do. If she was going to have a fresh start, or at least get started on one, she should feel at least a little bit fresh.
Gwen took a quick shower, and although it didn’t last long, the hot water was enough to wash some of the sadness away. She dressed in her comfiest sweat pants and a t-shirt so old, it was as soft as a hug. She tied her damp hair into a long braid and assessed her appearance in the mirror.
“Perfect,” she said to her steamy reflection. Her skin was pink from the hot water, her eyes still red from crying, but she felt ready to do what needed to be done.
And she knew exactly what that was.
As soon as Gwen was settled back into her bed with her computer on her lap, she went directly to her website and opened her dashboard. The post she’d written earlier in the evening still sat unpublished. It seemed like a million years ago that she’d written it. She could post it now. Maybe even with a note that she’d meant to post it earlier.
But no.
It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t enough.
She opened a blank composition window and started writing.
*
Dear Reader,
I’ve made a terrible mistake. And if you saw my post earlier tonight, you may think I’m talking about that. And you’d be partly right. That entry was never meant to be posted, but more than that, it never even should have been written. And not just because it was a cold, harsh exploitation of a man who didn’t deserve it. But because it wasn’t honest.
Nothing about that post was real and that’s not fair to you, the reader, or me, since it’s my website. And most definitely, and most importantly, it’s not fair to Mr. Summer.
Because you see, Mr. Summer is an actual person. An actual person with feelings and emotions and a life. If I ever gave the impression that he was fictional, that anything about this scenario was untrue, that wasn’t my intention. Because he is very real. And I’m very real and the feelings I have for him are real.
But that doesn’t matter now.
The only thing that matters is this…I was wrong. I never set out to hurt anyone. In fact, my reasons, as misguided as they were, were born out of a place of healing. I thought that if I could somehow prove to Mr. Summer, and maybe even to myself, that I was worthy of love, I could somehow earn redemption from the hurt I’d felt so many years ago as a fat, awkward teenager.
The ironic thing is, he did love me…just the way I wanted him to. And even though I didn’t mean to, I genuinely fell in love with him, too. But none of that matters, because my actions have proved that I was wrong…I’m not worthy of love. And not because I used to be fat and awkward. But because even though my makeup is just right, my hair is all in place, and my dress hugs the curves I’ve worked so hard for just right…I did an ugly thing.
I hurt him and myself in the process, and I am not worthy of Mr. Summer’s love anymore.
But with any luck, and a lot more hard work, one day I will
be worthy of love.
*
Tears slipped from Gwen’s cheeks as she wrote, and a sob caught in her throat as she typed the last words. She’d lost Ian. And she was the only one to blame.
*
I understand if you all hate me, and I won’t blame you if you never read another word. But I will keep writing, because one thing I’ve learned through all this is my transformation is not complete and I still have a lot of growing to do. So, over the next few months, or years, or as long as it takes, I’ll be working on me and working toward the best version of me that I can be. Whatever that looks like.
*
P.S. Mr. Summer…Thank you for the dance.
*
He’d been reading for hours. He had a crick in his neck, his ass was numb, and his heart was…confused. Ian put his laptop to one side, got up from the couch and stretched his arms over his head. Reading through years of Gwen’s posts had taught him a lot of things about diet and nutrition, more than he ever wanted to know about women’s sports bras, and even more about the emotional strength it had taken Gwen to go through the journey she had, as well as inspire so many women in the process to live their own journeys.
He was impressed and a little humbled.
It was almost two in the morning, but he didn’t care. He needed to finish reading. He’d just started on Gwen’s posts from earlier in the summer when she’d first arrived in Cedar Springs. He’d be lying to himself if he said it had been easy to read about the hurt she’d felt when he hadn’t recognized her at the bus stop that day. He knew now that she’d loved him all those years ago. Or at least, she thought she had. Either way, Ian now knew that her unrequited love had spurred a lot of her life changes and the whole experiment involving Mr. Summer.
He spent a few minutes stretching as he moved around the kitchen and made himself a mug of instant coffee. There was no way he was going to bed. Not until he finished reading. And even then, there was no way he’d be able to sleep.
His coffee in hand, Ian moved to the kitchen table. He retrieved his laptop and plugged it in before he continued to read. The next few entries were difficult to get through because he was reading about the start of their relationship.
But it was more than that. Because reading it through her eyes was different. And he could see the subtle changes in each post. As time went on, the tone of her writing changed. What started as what could only be described as a vindictive exercise clearly became more. He had to stop himself a few times, and reread passages. Was he only wishing that there was more to it than there really was? No. It was clear to anyone who was paying attention. Gwen was in love.
She loved him. Him.
Ian sat back and ran his hands through his hair. It wasn’t just wishful thinking. And when he closed his eyes, he remembered the times they’d spent together, the way she’d looked at him. The way she’d kissed him. She did love him.
But then why? Why would she write such a cold, calculated post about them? It didn’t make sense and it didn’t match up to the tone of any of her other entries. Not one. It was almost as if she hadn’t written it. Almost.
Ian continued clicking through the posts, but the one he’d read earlier in the night wasn’t there. The last entry was dated a few days previous and it was a totally unrelated post about exercise on vacation or something.
Just like Chelsea said, Gwen must have come to her senses and deleted it. He took a sip of his coffee and flicked through her website one more time. There was nothing else to read, but he couldn’t leave it alone yet. He wasn’t finished with it. It felt as though there was something he was missing.
Ian took his time finishing his coffee and by the time he took his last swallow, he was ready to log off. He’d been over the site at least a dozen times and despite the nagging feeling that he was missing something, he couldn’t find a thing.
Disappointed, he was about to click the little X in the corner of the window when a notification popped up on the screen.
A new post.
He glanced at the time. Was it even possible that Gwen was still up, too?
And writing.
Refocused, Ian clicked over to the new post and started to read. When he was finished, he read it again. And then through a third time before he finally sat back and stared at the screen.
*
“You’re up early.”
Mitch walked into the kitchen and helped himself to a cup of coffee. Ian had given up on the instant stuff hours ago, and made some fresh brew. Mitch was pouring out of the second pot.
“Didn’t go to bed.”
“You’re kidding?” Mitch stared at him, likely trying to assess whether his brother had completely lost his mind. “Are you drunk?”
“Didn’t have a drop after the Scotch.” Ian moved past him to freshen up his own mug. “Didn’t need it.”
“No?” Getting out of his way, Mitch moved to the kitchen table and sat. “And you’re okay?”
“As good as I can be, brother.”
The last thing Ian wanted to do was rehash the last twenty-four hours with Mitch or anyone else. What he really wanted to do was find Gwen and talk to her. After reading through her entire website the night before, and then her final post, he’d spent the following few hours thinking about what to do. And he was no closer to a solution than he was at two in the morning. But he didn’t have any more time to think about it, because it was opening day for the Dockside and he had tons of work waiting for him.
He’d have time to think about Gwen later. But for the sake of his own sanity and the aching in his heart that wouldn’t seem to go away, he needed to do his best to push any thoughts of her out of his head.
At least for the time being.
“Are you ready for a busy day today?”
Mitch tipped his head in question and took a sip of his coffee. “I guess so,” he said cautiously.
“You better be a little more sure than that,” Ian said sharply. “It’s opening day and that’s why you’re here, right? To help me out?”
Mitch nodded. “I guess I am, yes.”
“Good. Then let’s get going. Is Chelsea coming into town with us today? Or will she be using your car?”
“I told her last night she could take my car in when she was ready. I think she has a later shift at the Paw. Something about getting ready for the festival.”
“The festival?” Ian stopped and turned sharply.
He’d forgotten all about the festival. The ache in his chest grew stronger.
“Did you forget about the festival?” Mitch asked. “I’ve barely been here two days and I remembered. It’s the biggest—”
“I’m well aware of the significance.” More than Mitch even knew. The festival was pretty much the defining moment of Gwen and Ian’s relationship. Well, at least their original relationship all those years ago. The defining moment of their current relationship was probably the night before outside the Dockside when Ian had called her…oh shit.
He’d called her ugly.
“When’s the festival?”
“On Monday.”
“That’s two days from now.”
“That’s typically how the calendar works,” Mitch said, ticking off his fingers. “Today is Saturday. Tomorrow will be Sunday, and—”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it, smart guy.” Ian’s mind spun. Last night was terrible. She’d done things. He’d said things. Maybe he was right and it was the defining point of their relationship.
So far.
But it didn’t have to be. Spending the whole night reading and learning about Gwen and what made her her had taught Ian a few things.
One…there was always an opportunity for a second chance.
And, two—which was much more important than number one—he wanted that second chance with her more than anything. Or maybe it was a third chance by now. He didn’t know.
And he didn’t care because the only thing that mattered was that he loved her.
Chapter Eighteen
> Gwen had done a pretty good job of avoiding the world for the last few days. At least the outside world. She had been participating in her online world when she felt up to it. Mostly, she’d spent her days journaling, sneaking up to the Springs for an occasional swim and going for walks. She’d even started writing a book. It was a pretty rough cross between fiction and non-fiction, but she was enjoying it. All in all, she’d done a really good job of distracting herself from the shit-show that had become her life.
She was more than ready to get out of Cedar Springs and away from the stares and whispers that she was sure were waiting for her if she bothered to appear in public again. But she’d promised Deanna she’d stay. At least until the Summer Equinox Festival. When she first asked, Gwen was a hard no. There was no way in hell she had any intention of returning to the scene of her utter humiliation and heartbreak. But the longer she thought about it, she realized it might not be so bad after all.
Okay, that was a total lie. It would be that bad. But it would also be therapeutic for her. It would be like everything coming full circle. Thinking about Ian and how she’d hurt him still made her heart ache. In fact, it ached a little more every day. But she needed to do it. She’d go to the festival, make her appearance and hold her head up high. And then she’d leave.
That’s what she’d been telling herself, at least. And every day when she journaled, she tried a little harder to convince herself of just that. She’d been hoping that she might believe it when the time came. The only problem was, the time was now.
Gwen looked in the mirror one more time and assessed herself from top to bottom. She looked good. Her dress was a black lace over a creamy beige material that looked vintage. Her hair was twisted into an elegantly messy bun and her makeup was subtle. It wasn’t too much, but it was definitely enough to help her confidence on what would no doubt be a difficult night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She’d be strong. Even if being there ripped her up on the inside.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come on in, Dee. I’m ready.”
The door cracked open and her best friend walked in with two glasses of wine. “I thought maybe you could use this tonight.”
