by Shelia Grace
I smiled to show off my straight teeth.
“Fuck. That’s intense.”
“Yeah. Then he went on a bender, and there were no more wages to garnish.”
“Wow.”
Thinking of my father only reminded me that Ryan, not my parents, had paid for the last term of my freshman year. When the online statement had shown up over break with my spring quarter paid in full, I had lied and told Mom and Stephen that there must have been a mix-up at the bursar’s office. It was that, or explain to my parents that my Calculus TA had paid for my third term—because he had wanted to fuck me. At least that was how it felt right now.
“Meet out front in a half hour if I don’t see you?” I asked.
Julie nodded, and we split up to grab our books. Going down to the basement, I started looking for my Intro to Psych textbook, wondering if my bad taste in men was a genetic defect. Because I did have bad taste. It wasn’t Ryan so much as the fact that I had known from the start that things with him were destined to end—badly. So, really, genetics or not, it was my fault. I should have just stayed away from him. The worst part, though, was that last night it had felt like we’d turned a corner, like maybe we could be better together than apart. Or maybe it had just been me being stupidly optimistic for once in my life.
The bookstore was a total madhouse, and by the time I got around to collecting all of my books, Julie was at least ten people ahead of me in line. Watching her pay, I shifted back and forth before finally texting her that she could head back to Mercer if she wanted.
No way. Look up. See the hot guy at the counter?
Glancing up, I saw what she was talking about. The guy ringing people up definitely fell into the attractive category, with warm hazel eyes and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. But he looked young to me. Then I realized that it was only because my perception had been distorted by Ryan. This guy was older than I was—probably somewhere between twenty and twenty-two. He was tall, too. Over six feet, but not as tall as Ryan. Not quite as well built, either. Not bad, but not Ryan. I wrote Julie back.
Stepping out on Chris??
I heard her laughing from beyond the cash registers.
You’re the one who should be looking.
I laughed and looked up. Catching the guy’s eye by accident, I quickly looked down at my books and pulled out my wallet. The limit on my credit card, which I had applied for fall term, was laughably small. The good thing was that I never used the card—except when it came time to buy books. As I got closer to the counter, I watched, hoping like mad that one of the other cashiers would ring me up. There were at least eight registers open, so there was only about a one-in-eight chance that I would get the guy Julie had pointed out. Then, just as the girl in front of me got the cashier to my left, the customer at his register walked away. I cursed silently.
This was ridiculous. If Julie hadn’t said anything, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed this guy, mostly because, compared to Ryan Bennett, no other guy stood a chance, which was really depressing. Remembering my conversation with James McDevitt, I winced.
“Is everything rated by comparison in your world?”
“I’m just saying it’s impossible to know the true value of something when you have nothing to judge by.”
I smirked. Maybe he had been right. Maybe everything was relative to whatever came before or after it. But if that was the case, then I was totally screwed. Because anyone who came after Ryan Bennett would look lesser by comparison. The cashier I had been hoping to avoid smiled, lifted his hand, and crooked a finger at me.
I swallowed and looked around self-consciously. Was that normal? Would he have done the same with the guy behind me? I walked up and set my books on the counter, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Fucking Julie!
“I remember Intro to Psych. Who do you have?” he asked, looking up at me.
“Gates,” I squeaked, clearing my throat.
What the fuck was wrong with me getting all squeaky and breathless? I glanced over at Julie and gave her a dirty look.
“She’s not that bad. Three midterms and a final. All multiple choice. Don’t skip her class, though. She’ll put stuff on the exams that isn’t in the book.
“Thanks.”
I wasn’t big on skipping classes, but it was good to know. I needed good grades this term. I handed him my credit card, and he looked down as he ran the card.
“Alexis?”
“Alex.”
“I’m Nick.”
“I know,” I said pointing at his nametag.
He grinned and handed me a receipt to sign. Then he circled something on my copy.
“Your return code is on the receipt.”
He slipped a bookmark into one of the textbooks before putting everything in a plastic bag with the university’s logo on the front.
“Thanks.”
I looked back once as I walked toward Julie. Nick had turned and was smiling at me.
“Damn, girlfriend. You must have that I just got shagged look about you,” Julie grinned as I joined her.
“What? He was just being nice.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure he’s being that nice to everybody.”
“Maybe he’s just nice to girls who look like they got dumped on their asses by their much older not-quite-boyfriends.”
Julie snorted.
“O-kay. And you owe me lunch if he gave you his number.”
“Wait, does this mean I get a free lunch if he didn’t give me his number?”
She nodded.
“Awesome. Let’s go over to that Italian deli on First.”
“Whoa. Hold on. Open up your bag.”
“What are you? Airport security?”
I pulled out my receipt and waved it at her.
“He circled my return code,” I laughed.
Julie leaned over and pulled out the bookmark from my Psych textbook.
“Nick Collins. Call me.”
When she started reading off a phone number, I snatched the bookmark from her. Looking down, I saw his name and number scrawled on the bookmark in marker. I laughed.
“He probably hands out two hundred an hour just to see who bites.”
“Have you always been so cynical?”
“Jules, I was born cynical.”
“Well, if you’re so jaded, then think of it this way: the perfect opportunity for a rebound just gave you his number.”
I shook my head vehemently against the idea.
“I can’t.”
“That makes you a pathetic cynic. Alex, admit it. You’re still hot for teacher man.”
We walked off campus, and I stopped and took out a twenty from the ATM, lamenting my dwindling checking account. At the sandwich place, I got in line while Julie took our stuff and found a table. By the time I paid and found her in a corner booth, she was on my phone.
“There. I texted him to see if he’s free Friday night.”
“Julie! What the fuck?”
The guy at the next table turned and looked and me, and I blushed bright red. Lowering my voice, I leaned toward her.
“I just got my ass dumped by the guy I’m epically fucking in love with.” Her eyes widened. “I can’t just go out with the first guy I see.”
“Are you really in love with him?” she asked seriously.
I looked down and felt my eyes burn.
“Yeah, I am. I mean, I thought I could do it. I thought I could just sleep with him and not get all fucked up over it.” I shook my head. “I was an idiot.”
“There’s only one cure, then.”
“What’s that?” I asked hopefully.
“Ice cream. Then a hookup with hot bookstore guy.”
“Ice cream, yes. Hot bookstore guy, no.”
Julie looked mildly guilty. Then my phone buzzed. When the guy at the counter called our number, Julie got up. Checking my texts, I felt my stomach tighten.
Awesome! I’ll pick you up at 8. Where do you live?
Julie set m
y sandwich down in front of me.
“So? What’d he say?”
I showed her the phone.
“You think he realized that I’m a freshman?” I muttered.
“That didn’t stop your hot teacher man,” Julie snickered.
I laughed miserably and took a swig of my Coke.
“Oh my god! Stop calling him that! And you owe me your pickle.”
“Like hell I do. I just got you a date for Friday night. It’s for the best, Alex. Seriously. I don’t want to see you moping around for the next ten weeks.”
“I won’t mope. I promise.”
“Bullshit. Text him back, or I’ll do it for you.”
“And what if he’s a total stalker? Then he’ll know where I live.”
“Alex, if you don’t text him, I’ll tell Chris to set you up with his friend Scott.”
My eyes narrowed as I thought of the guys that I had seen with Chris in the DC.
“Oh … god. He’s the one who wears cowboy boots and skintight Wrangler jeans, isn’t he?”
“Yup.”
I shuddered.
“That’s blackmail.”
“Damn straight.”
I picked up my phone and typed in my dorm and room number.
“Happy now?”
“Trust me. This is going to be good for you.”
“Sure.”
I was too nervous to enjoy my food, so I picked at my potato chips. When Julie finished, I walked to the counter and asked for a box for my sandwich. As we were walking out to the sidewalk, I looked up at the sky. Cloudy, gray, dismal.
“It was perfect a couple of days ago,” I sighed.
“Listen to the SoCal girl.”
“Oh don’t start up with that SoCal shit. You know, us Southern Californians happen to be completely unaware of the whole rivalry you northies have going on in your heads.”
“Northern California is da bomb.”
I shook my head and laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
“What are you going to do when we get back?” Julie asked.
“Go for a run, try to find something to wear on the date you just roped me into … maybe mope a little in the privacy of my room.”
“Well, I’m going for dinner with Chris and some of his friends. You wanna come with?”
“Sure. What are you going to do until then … or should I ask?”
She grinned.
“Don’t ask.”
When we got back to Mercer, I swiped my card and we walked inside. Seeing someone rise from one of the chairs across the room, I squinted and blinked, trying to make sense of what—or whom—I was seeing. Then my entire body went numb with shock.
“D-dad?”
Chapter 34
Ryan
It had been nearly two weeks since I had left Alex’s dorm room, and I was angry—in the worst possible fucking way. Angry because there was no one to be angry with except myself. Angry because doing the right thing had cost me the one person I had truly felt something for. But the truly fucked up part was that I could have held onto Alex. Seen her on the weekends, subjected her to my family’s drama—in effect hijacking her college experience so that I wouldn’t have had to give her up.
The week before, in my desperation, I had gone completely off the deep end and called a jeweler who worked with Becca—to have her design an engagement ring. Then I had come to my fucking senses. Alex didn’t need me to propose. She needed me to stay the fuck out of her life.
I had already called Robertson and the head of the Math department to request that my doctoral application be deferred. Then I had started the process of putting the house at school up for sale. My father was scheduled to start chemo soon, and earlier in the week, my brother-in-law had sat down with us to explain the silver lining. The cancer my father had responded well to chemo, or at least better than most lung cancers. The bad news was that the treatment would make him sicker than he seemed now.
Our official “family” breakfast on the morning I had left Alex’s dorm had been awkward at best, disastrous at worst. Gretchen knock back mimosas with my mother had been more than I could stomach. No one in my family handled emotional shit well, but while watching Gretchen and my mother, I had finally realized why my mother couldn’t let go of her former-future daughter-in-law. They were two of a kind—drinking when things were at their best and drinking more when things were at their worst. Seeing Gretchen again had driven home the fact that I had dodged a huge fucking bullet.
Since returning, I had already begun to take over day-to-day operations at the winery, learning to grin and bear it when my father questioned every decision I made. Maybe it was my punishment for going back for my doctorate. Or maybe he really had no faith in me. Either way, the rest of my life had been put on hold, and it felt like I was back in junior high.
At first, I had kept expecting to have a Hallmark moment with my father where he would put his hand on my shoulder and tell me it was all up to me now. Not a fucking chance. Richard Bennett wasn’t going to let something like terminal cancer fuck up his track record of emotional detachment combined with epic micromanagement. Everything was subject for debate, and finally it occurred to me that this was why I had gone back for my doctorate.
Deep down I realized that the dynamic would change at some point—when he actually seemed sick—so I tried to enjoy the father-son time, even if it mostly involved criticism of my every breath.
It was what it was.
On Friday night, while I was poring over legal documents, my phone buzzed. It was a text from McDevitt. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had the energy to explain to him that his performance with Alex had severed any need I had to remain friends with him. But even if I had told him to fuck off, he would have just brushed it off and called me a pussy. I opened the text.
Your freshman already replaced you. Sad?
I looked down at the attached picture and felt my jaw clench. It was a blurry shot of Alex standing on a street corner looking up at some prick with a ponytail. Another text popped up with a picture of McDevitt holding up a bottle of Jaeger and grinning. He was in the bar on G and Third. The bastard hadn’t left town.
Small fucking world, no?
My knuckles cracked. That he was probably crashing at my house was mildly surprising. That he was in a bar drinking at nine o’clock on a Friday? That was practically a requirement for him. That Alex had walked by? Town was small. That she was on a date less than two weeks after I had held her in my arms? It fucking destroyed me. But what had I been expecting after telling her not to wait for me? I threw the phone down and swore.
Jesus, I was an asshole.
Correction. I was an asshole, but McDevitt was the fucking antichrist. It was like he could sense the most fucked up possible thing to do—and then he would try to one-up it. Had this been random, or was he stalking Alex just to fucking mess with me? Was he that depraved?
And, yes, for the first time since freshman year of college, I had to admit that he really was that depraved.
The worst part was that I found myself struggling not to pick up the phone and text Alex in hopes of ruining her date, which meant that, really, I was no better than McDevitt. I watched Finn get up and trot toward the dog door like he wasn’t up for my foul mood. And my dog was right—I was being a belligerent asshole. I liked myself better when I was with Alex, and apparently so did he.
I wanted to drive back to school and comb the streets looking for her and then beg for forgiveness when I found her. Barring that, I wanted to drive back to my house and kick the living shit out of James McDevitt. Instead, I called up an all-night locksmith to have the lock to the front door swapped out. The guy said he’d call me back with an ETA.
Taking out a bottle of the family label and uncorking it, I poured a healthy glass. When my phone buzzed again, I looked down and saw Gretchen’s name. I took a swig. My ex had gotten brazen since her little bonding session with my mother, texting me multiple times a day, and I figur
ed that, in her mind, the wedding was back on now.
Marriage was her ticket out of playing legal secretary at her father’s firm. She’d come back here, get married to the heir apparent, drink, and—yeah, that was about it. The other person in the relationship—me—wouldn’t even factor into the equation. I was—always had been—a means to an end. In fact, if I had given up school sooner and gotten married, I’d probably be seeing less of her than I had in the past week and a half, considering my mother had already invited her for dinner. Twice.
Unlocking the phone, I opened McDevitt’s picture of Alex, trying to determine from a blurry picture if she looked happy with the fucking asshole she was with. Were they holding hands? I told myself that I deserved this, but that didn’t make it any better.
I looked backed at the computer. I had meetings with my father’s accountant and lawyer next week, and there were about fifty tabs on the spreadsheet I was staring at. Surprisingly, being back home—apart from knowing it meant I couldn’t be with Alex—hadn’t hurt as much as I thought. My routine for the past week and a half had been simple: I ran at dawn, and then I worked until I was too tired to think. Well, that was bullshit. I thought about Alex even in my sleep.
At the sound of a car door slamming, I looked up. Then I heard the sharp click of high heels. A minute later, there was a knock at the door. I frowned. There was no way anyone should have been back here at this hour. All the employees had gone home, and I knew it wasn’t my mother. Walking to the door, I didn’t bother with a shirt. I swung it open and stared down at Gretchen.
“Are you going to let me in?” she asked demurely.
My jaw clenched. I wasn’t up for games.
“No.”
“Ryan, do yourself a favor and stop pretending like coming back here ruined your fucking life. If you would have just given up this school fantasy in the first place, we’d be married by now.”
My stomach twisted. A truly nauseating thought. She was right, though. Coming back here hadn’t ruined my life. But marrying Gretchen would have. And leaving Alex had.
