by Becky Monson
I walk in the kitchen, put the tray down, and look around for Ashley. I have to find her before main courses go out. She has to take over the front for me.
Ashley walks in the kitchen, holding her tray on her shoulder. When she sees me, her eyes get huge. She has so many questions.
That makes two of us.
The door swings open and in walks Ian.
“Bridgette.” He comes up to me, and my eyes dart around looking for Ursula. If she catches him in here, talking to me . . . I’m toast, and so is my hope of a promotion. I don’t see her; however, everyone in the kitchen now has their eyes on me. Luckily, the chef, assistants, and servers all have an unspoken rule among us. We don’t tattle on each other.
I turn my back to him, avoiding everyone’s stares. Grabbing a box of cocktail napkins, I start making piles of them, unnecessarily.
“Bridgette.” He touches my shoulder with his hand, and I shove my shoulder back trying to get it off. “Please, can I just explain?”
I close my eyes, willing him to go away. Maybe, if I say nothing, he’ll get the idea and leave. But that’s not me, and he knows that’s not me, so I turn around.
“There’s really nothing to explain,” I say in harsh tones.
“Yes, there is. I—”
“You’re engaged. I see that.” I gesture to the door that goes out to the ballroom.
“Yes, but I wanted to tell you, I did . . .” he trails off, putting his hand to his head, rubbing his temples.
“But you didn’t.” I finish the sentence for him. “Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me something this important?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. It just never came up. I felt awkward that I didn’t tell you the first time, when we had lunch, and I didn’t know how to bring it up the other night—”
“So, you thought kissing me would be a better idea. That makes perfect sense.” I nod my head, giving him a sarcastic look. An audible gasp comes from the onlookers. I’m a spectacle.
He looks around the room quickly, probably scanning to make sure no one besides the catering staff is here.
He looks back at me. “No, I didn’t mean for that to happen, I just . . .” he trails off, looking for words.
“And how did this all happen?” I gesture around the room with my hands. “I mean, there are like, what, a gazillion caterers in this city? Why this one?” The coincidence is too ridiculous.
“Maureen found a flyer in my pocket. You gave it to me that day I saw you outside in that Heidi getup.” He gestures with his hands toward my outfit. “I guess we had a last-minute issue with the caterer, and so she thought I had grabbed the flyer for her. I had no idea. Had I known—”
“What? You would have found another caterer and continued with the façade?”
“Bridgette, it’s not like that,” he says, his tone getting louder. I know that tone well. It’s the one he uses when he’s not getting his point across. The last time I heard it was when I refused to go to London with him.
I see Ashley peeking from behind the swinging kitchen door. She’s been standing guard for me, looking for Ursula. She waves to get my attention. “She’s coming.”
“Ian, you have to go.” I nudge him toward the door with my hands.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, searching my face for any chance that I might hear him out.
“There’s nothing to say.” I point him to the door. “You need to go before you get me fired.”
Without any words, Ian turns and walks out the door and back into the ballroom.
CHAPTER 22
“How did the rest of the night go, then?” Gram asks me as I sit on the couch telling her everything that happened with Ian last night. She is in her favorite chair, feet propped up, Kindle resting in her lap.
“It was terrible. I mean, nothing terrible happened. I switched sections with Ashley so I didn’t have to face him again. Maybe I should have kept his section. I could have made him uncomfortable the rest of the night.” I sniff, slouching on the couch, feeling despondent.
“I’m sure you made him uncomfortable enough.”
“I know I was uncomfortable. It was hard, seeing them together, you know? It was almost, I don’t know . . . kind of heartbreaking? That’s stupid, isn’t it? I mean, he barely just came back into my life. But spending time with Ian, it got my mind whirling again. Feelings I thought were gone were not truly gone, only buried.” I look down at my hands resting in my lap.
“Well, of course they were. You have a history, after all.” I look up at Gram who is watching me intently.
“True. And it was good, you know? To feel something again after Adam . . . I wasn’t so sure I could do it. At least not that quickly.”
“Do you want me to tell you about The Young and the Restless to get your mind off it?” she asks, head tilted to the side with concern.
“Sure,” I say, not really wanting to hear about it but needing to think about something besides Ian.
“Well, there’s a major love triangle going on between Heather, Tiffany, and Ian,” she says. “Sorry about saying Ian,” she adds, remorsefully.
“No worries, Gram,” I say. But the sound of his name does do something to my heart, that’s for sure.
“Anyway, so Heather and Ian just got engaged, but Tiffany is still in love with him.” Her face starts to sag as she tells me the details.
We sit in silence for a minute. “You know,” Gram says, “why don’t I tell you about it later.”
“Sounds good,” I say, thinking the last things I need to hear about are engagements and unrequited love.
The doorbell rings, and I get up to see who it is.
Standing there as I open the door, looking red-faced, is Ashley.
“I didn’t get the part,” she says, sniffing back tears and snot. She holds up a large bag of miniature-sized candy bars. “Wanna help me eat my feelings?”
“Oh, Ash—”
“Don’t say it,” she cuts me off. “I know you’re sad for me, but I need to laugh right now. No pitying glances and words of comfort, got it?”
“Gotcha,” I say and open the door wider for her to come in.
We sit down on the couch and, without apology, dig into the chocolate. Gram even joins in. I wish the candy would actually help my feelings, but instead it just leaves a waxy coating on the roof of my mouth. – not comforting at all. I hope it’s working better for Ashley.
Gram excuses herself from the pity party to take a phone call from Margie, one of the ladies in her bridge club.
“So, last night was weird, eh?” Ashley says after Gram walks out of the room and we’ve spent way too much time avoiding topics neither of us wanted to talk about. Apparently, she has tired of the superficial conversation and wants to get into the nitty-gritty—so long as it’s not about her.
I sigh. I’ve already discussed it with Gram, and I don’t feel like going there again, but if it helps Ashley, I guess I can.
“Weird doesn’t even describe it.” I look down at the pile of wrappers sitting between us. Have we really eaten that much already?
“So, how are you feeling?” she questions, a concerned look on her face.
“I thought we weren’t talking about feelings.” I tilt my head to the side, giving her a mocking look.
“We aren’t talking about my feelings. I didn’t know yours were off limits.” She grabs another mini chocolate bar from the bag.
“They’re not.” I smile slightly.
“So? How are you feeling?” she prods.
“I have no idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that my mind is a big, muddled mess.” I go to grab another piece of chocolate but decide the mounting pile of wrappers is starting to border on pathetic, and gluttonous.
“Explain,” she demands.
I exhale loudly. “Well, I guess I feel sort of heartbroken. Not like Adam heartbroken. It’s a different type of heartbreak. And it’s kind of hard to feel heartbroken about someone w
ho wasn’t even mine. I mean, had he not kissed me, I probably would’ve still been annoyed that he didn’t tell me before, but the kiss . . . it made everything different.”
“Maybe he didn’t mean it? Maybe he was caught up in the moment?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve kissed Ian before. It took me back to college. There were feelings behind that kiss. Feelings that were deeper than being caught up in the moment.”
“So, now what?” Ashley grabs another piece of chocolate but then throws it back in the bag.
“You giving up?” I nod down at the bag of chocolate.
“Yep. It’s not working. I now feel sorry for myself, and fat. Not the best combo. Stop trying to change the subject to me.” She pushes me lightly on the arm.
I smile. Thank goodness for Ashley. Seeing as my ex-boyfriend is newly engaged and my ex-ex-boyfriend has been engaged all along . . . well, I’m just glad she’s here for me.
“There is no ‘now what.’ He’s getting married. That’s the end of the story.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Have you heard from him?”
“Nope. Don’t expect to, either.” I shake my head.
Gram comes back into the room. “Sorry girls, I had to take that call,” she says, unnecessarily apologetic. “What did I miss?”
“Ashley here was just asking about my ‘feelings,’” I say, using air quotes. “Tell me Grams, in your experience, when a guy kisses you, is it because he just feels like it, or is there some deep-seeded meaning to it?”
“Well, I’m no expert, but I did just run across a quote from a book I read recently that I thought was right on the money.” She picks up her Kindle, and turning it on, starts swiping through the screens, searching.
“Aha, here it is.” She pushes her glasses up on her nose. “‘Men aren’t really complicated. They are very simple, literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they’ve said—when really it’s obvious.’” She looks up from her Kindle.
“But what’s obvious with Ian?” I say, confused.
“Well, obviously, he meant to kiss you,” Gram says, matter-of-factly.
“That quote sounds familiar,” Ashley says, peering at Gram’s Kindle. “What book is it from?”
“Oh, just that Fifty Shades of Grey book.” She closes her Kindle cover, placing it in her lap.
Both Ashley and I go slack-jawed.
“Gram, you read Fifty Shades of Grey?” I ask, once I’m able to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“Oh, yes. Wanted to see what the hubbub was all about. It was awful. All three of them.”
“You read all three?” My eyes practically jump out of my face.
“Yes. There was so much cussing. Just awful. Terrible. They were ridiculous. It was my first time venturing over to those kinds of books, and I don’t think I’ll be doing it again. So unrealistic. I mean, no one actually has sex like that.” She clicks her tongue, making a disapproving face.
Ashley and I look at each other. We don’t have the heart to tell her that, yes, some people actually do.
A smile plays on the corner of Ashley’s mouth. I can tell she’s trying to hold back laughter. Seeing her try to hold it in makes me start to giggle, and then, before we can stop ourselves, we are laughing hysterically.
“Oh, go on, you two.” Gram bats a hand at us but then smiles and laughs a little to herself.
“Oh, my gosh, I am so glad I came over today.” Ashley grabs at her stomach, looking pained from laughing so hard.
“Me, too. I’d never have been able to repeat that story so it was anywhere near as good as hearing it first hand,” I say through stunted giggles.
“Well, I’m glad I can be here to help you both laugh through your difficult times.” Gram taps her fingers on her Kindle cover, giving us a sarcastic look.
Oh, the things that woman says and does. I could write a book.
CHAPTER 23
University of Connecticut, Senior Year, Winter
“Ha! I won!” Ian exclaimed after a quick game of laughing chicken.
“You cheated,” I declared.
“No, I didn’t,” he denied. He didn’t cheat, per se, but he did get me with that goofy, cross-eyed grin that he does. Hard as I tried, I could not keep from laughing when he did that.
I sighed, leaning back. “I don’t think I can study one more page,” I said, exhaustion in my voice. Ian and I were on the floor, sitting up against my bed, studying for finals.
“Yeah, I’m over it,” Ian agreed, leaning his head back as well.
“I’m seriously starting to wonder if this is all worth it.”
“This?” he asked, turning his head to look at me.
“This. College. I’m so tired of studying. I just want to be done.” I closed my eyes, drained.
He grabbed my hand in his. It felt good, comforting. “Bridge, we’re almost done. We can do this.”
“No need for the pep talk. I’m only venting.”
He sits up. “Let’s do something mindless,” he said and then stood up, dragging me with him.
“Like what?” I wasn’t feeling like doing anything but crawling into a ball and sleeping.
“Let’s order pizza and watch a movie.” He smiled like this was the best idea in the world.
It sort of was. “Okay,” I agreed with a brief lift of my shoulders.
We ordered a pizza to be delivered—no need to go out in the snow—and found what looked like a decent movie to watch after looking through my roommate, Amy’s, questionable collection. She was studying at her boyfriend’s place, so we had the apartment to ourselves.
After pizza, Ian grabbed a bunch of pillows and made a cozy place on the floor for us to snuggle up to watch the movie. This had become a sort of tradition for Ian and me, snuggling up and watching a movie, so it was nothing new or special.
“This is a stupid movie,” I declared, halfway through it. We were lying close together, our heads touching, our bellies full of meat-lovers pizza.
“Spoilsport.” Ian nudged me lightly with his head.
“No, but really, relationships don’t work that way.” I rolled my eyes. “Guys don’t pine over girls for months without telling them, do they?” I turned my head to the side so I could see his face.
“Well . . .” he trailed off.
“Wait, you?” I rolled my body over to my side and propped myself up on my arm, searching his face. He kept his eyes on the ceiling. “How? I mean, how do I not know this about you? I know everything about you.”
“You don’t know everything.” He smiled slightly.
“Okay, then tell me.” I tugged on his shirt, willing him to confess.
“Nah, it’s probably a boring story,” he said, still looking up at the ceiling.
“Well, I’d rather hear it than watch this drivel.” I pointed at the TV screen.
He propped himself up on his side so we were both looking at each other.
He shook his head, thinking better of it. “No. Never mind.” He rolled to his back, face to the ceiling again.
“Oh, no, you’re not getting off that easy.” I grabbed him by the arm, trying to pull him toward me so we were looking face-to-face again. He wouldn’t budge, though.
He let out a long exhale, still looking at the ceiling and not at me.
“Okay, there was this one girl. We had been friends for a while, actually.” He paused, sniffling lightly.
“Go on,” I encouraged him.
“Anyway, I thought we were just meant to be friends, but then she started dating someone else, and instead of being happy for her, I found myself feeling . . . jealous.” He went quiet for a moment, the movie filled in the background noise.
I laid my head down on the pillow and started to make loud snoring sounds. He grabbed a small throw pillow and smacked me lightly on the head with it.
“Never mind. Sorry to bore you.” He turned his head toward me, annoyance played on his face.
“No, no,
keep going. Just speed it up. Your dramatic pauses are almost as bad as this movie.” I looked at him and smiled.
“Anyway, so then one night,” he continued, looking up at the ceiling, “a long time after I’d started having these feelings—I found myself lying on the floor with this girl, watching a cheesy movie she didn’t like, and somehow telling her this story and hoping it didn’t ruin things.” He closed his eyes briefly as if to wish away what he just said. But it was too late.
My eyes bugged out of my head. Me. He was talking about me. But . . . but . . . this was Ian. Ian didn’t like me like that. He never gave off a vibe that he liked me like that.
“But . . . but . . .” I trailed off. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt what we have. Relationships are complicated. What we have is simple and good. Why ruin that?” He stared upward again.
“Oh, wow,” is all I could say.
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have told you. I don’t want to ruin anything. Just . . . just forget it.” He sat up, not making eye contact with me. He moved around awkwardly, looking slightly flustered, almost as if he was ready to bolt at any second.
“I should go,” he said, starting to lift himself up from the pile of pillows we were lying on.
“Would you just wait?” I grabbed his arm, pulling him down next to me. “Would you give me a second to . . . to . . . think?” I laid my head back, putting my palm on my forehead, trying to ground myself.
Ian liked me. I had no idea. I needed to wrap my brain around it all. Did I like him? Since I first met him, he had always been the person I wanted to spend my time with. Even when I was dating someone, I would pick Ian over him. So, did I? There was only one way to find out for sure.
I rolled over onto my side, toward him, and then a little more so I was lying half on top of him.
“What are you doing?” He gave me a muddled look.
“I’m going to kiss you,” I said matter-of-factly. I pulled myself up so I was looking him in the eyes. I brought my hand to his face, caressing it slightly. Then, not being able to help myself, I started to giggle. This was weird, looking at Ian this way. Then the giggles started to turn into laughs.
