by Becky Monson
“Well, I might have to work. I’ll have to see if I can get the day off,” I say, giving her the same excuse I gave Adam. But I already know, whether I have to work or not, it’s not happening. That seems to suffice, at least from what I can tell by the hope in her face.
“Enough about the wedding,” she says, changing her tone. “What’s new with you? How are things with Justin?”
“Justin?” I question. She gives me a strange look. Oh, right . . . Why haven’t I resolved this whole thing yet? “Oh, that fizzled out.” I give her a small shrug.
“Really? That’s so surprising. He seemed so into you.” Her look of concern is enough to make me feel dreadful. I know I should come clean, but I won’t. It’s gone on too long. I would have to explain why it happened, and I think Carla doesn’t need all of that right now.
“Yeah, it turns out he likes someone else,” I say. Well, at least that’s the truth.
“Dear Bridgette, we need to find you a man. You deserve so much more than that.” She points at me with her extra-long, fake nail. “What about F.J.?”
I nearly choke on the drink of water I just took. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Yes, of course. F.J.’s a disaster.” She purses her lips. “I wouldn’t wish him on anyone.” She says this in all seriousness, then suddenly her eyes widen. “You know, I bet one of my nephews is single.” She nods her head like this is the perfect option.
The last thing I need is the mother of my ex setting me up with men that are related to said ex. That sounds like something from a soap opera. My life is already soap opera-y enough.
“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to be on my own for a while,” I say and then give her a closed-mouth smile.
That’s truly how I’m feeling right now. It will be good to stand on my own for a while. Although my mind—and I guess my heart—keeps bringing up Ian. I know that’s a lost cause, but it’s hard to push it away. After he told me that I’ve “ruined everyone else” for him, it’s hard to stop thinking about him. I wish he hadn’t told me that.
“You’re a strong woman, Bridgette.” Carla reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine. “You know, I have to tell you that I wanted so badly for you to be a part of the family, but the truth is, you already are.”
I look up to see her eyes welling up, and I smile. I know she’s often said that I’m the daughter she always wanted, and even though I fight the thought in my head, I also know that we’ll eventually grow apart. Life will change and move on. Adam will start a family with Serene and that’ll become Carla’s life. My life will change, and I’ll move on. Well, hopefully. The lunches will start to become fewer and farther between. The contact will change to an odd email or a text, and then it’ll gradually become the annual Christmas card. I know that’s coming. So I must appreciate the time I have with her now.
CHAPTER 28
“I’m so glad you came over,” I say to Ashley, as we simultaneously plop down on the couch in the living room. Gram is in her usual chair, reading a book on her Kindle.
“What’s up?” Ashley says as she leans back against the couch.
“I just needed some girl time.” I lean back, as well. “You’ve been so busy lately.”
This is all true, of course. But I also have an ulterior motive for having her come over. I’m playing matchmaker today to find out how she feels about Justin. I totally could have texted or called her about it, and wanted to—I’ve had to hold it in for five days, after all—but I felt like she could hide things if we weren’t face-to-face. I need to see her reaction.
“I know; these auditions are killing me. I’ve made callbacks three times on this one. It’s hard not to get my hopes up, but I think I just need to face the fact that it’s probably not going to happen.” She closes her eyes.
“Ashley Tucker, you stop right now. You are talented, and the right part will happen. This might even be the one.” I punch her lightly on the arm.
“Yeah, sure. It’s all a bunch of bullsh—”
“Ahem.” Gram clears her throat.
“Sorry,” Ashley says in not-sorry tones.
“Oh, go back to your smut, Gram,” I say, giving her my best irritated look. Such a double standard there.
Gram picks up her book, and with a quick glare at me, she goes back to reading.
“Want some chocolate?” I ask. Chocolate always seems to be the cure around here.
“I’d rather have something harder, honestly.” She clasps her hands together and sets them in her lap.
“Well, I’d offer you wine, but Gram had to get rid of it all. Doctor’s orders.”
“Psh,” Gram says, looking up from her Kindle. “First coffee, now alcohol. What’s there to live for?” She rolls her eyes.
I shake my head at her. “At least you still have chocolate.”
“How long before he takes that away, too?” She exhales loudly and dramatically.
“I’ll take some chocolate,” Ashley declares.
I grab a bag of Lindt truffles from the stash in the kitchen and come back to the couch.
“What’s new with the Ian drama?” Ashley asks as I plop down. I start to open the bag of chocolate, which is harder than I thought it would be.
“Oh,” I shake my head, “not much is new. He’s been texting me, trying to be friends.”
I’ve received a text every day since that first text where he declared his desire to still be friends. I’ve yet to text him back.
“And?” She reaches over and grabs the bag out of my hand, opening it with ease, and hands it back to me after she takes out a truffle.
“Well, there’s no ‘and,’ really. I mean, we can’t be friends. It just won’t work.” I sniff, grabbing a truffle for myself.
“Yeah, I guess that’s smart.” Ashley has always been my more practical friend, and I’m grateful for that.
“So, I have something to tell you,” I say to Ashley, giving her a little smirk.
“What’s that look for?” she asks, pointing to my face. I offer her another truffle, and she grabs it.
“Well, remember how you thought Justin likes me?” I smirk again.
“Oh, yeah.” She bats a hand at me, as if to blow it off.
“What? Did you change your mind?” I lift my eyebrows, questioning her.
“Not really. I don’t know what to think of Justin,” she says, rather blandly.
“Well, we talked,” I say, knowing she will perk up with this bit of info, and she does.
“You did? What did you say to him?” Her body language changes immediately. She’s interested now.
“Actually, he told me he had something to tell me, and I kept avoiding it because I was afraid of what he might say—since you and Carla had gotten it into my head that he liked me as more than a friend.” I pull the corner of my mouth up in a conniving smile. I’m taking my time telling her this, and I can tell it’s getting on her nerves.
“Carla?” She scrunches her face.
“Yeah, she said something about how she saw it in his eyes when she met him,” I say, while rolling my own eyes.
“I knew it wasn’t just me.” She slumps back on the couch, not looking smug like I would expect her to at this point. “So, when did you talk to him? What did he say?” She turns her head to me, clearly wanting me to get to the punchline of this story.
I’m not stretching this story out to annoy her—although, I can’t deny that it’s fun. I’m also trying to figure out if Justin’s feelings are reciprocated. Ashley has been so focused on her hopes of getting into theater that I’m not sure if she’s ever mentioned liking anyone. So if there have been any clues that she likes Justin, I’ve probably missed them.
“He made me go to coffee with him after work on Monday. I tried to get out of it, but I figured, if it’s true, we might as well get it out of the way now,” I say.
“So, what did he say?” Ashley asks, as her hands start fidgeting in her lap.
“Yes, what did he say?” Gram pipes
in, her full attention on me. I didn’t realize she was listening. I thought she had gone back to reading her book.
“He doesn’t like me, not like that. It was quite embarrassing—thanks to you.” I slap Ashley lightly on the leg.
“He doesn’t?” The relief in Ashley’s face is obvious.
“You seem relieved,” I say, tilting my head to the side.
“I do?” She looks away from me, a faint blush on her cheeks. “I guess I just didn’t want it to mess anything up. We have a good thing, the three of us.”
“Yeah, I know.” I look down at my hands in my lap. Things are going to change, regardless. If Ashley doesn’t reciprocate feelings, then I’ll have made everything weird. Well, mostly Justin has. If she doesn’t like Justin, then I have to tell him—actually, no. No more high school for me. She can tell him. But then our trio is probably over. Truthfully, if she doesn’t like him, any scenario means the end of our trio. A pang of sadness rushes through me.
“I’m glad. I don’t want things to get weird with us, you know?” She holds her hand out for another truffle, and I oblige. “So what did he have to tell you then?” she asks as she opens the tightly wrapped candy.
“Well, I think things are going to get weird, anyway,” I say, raising an eyebrow. Ashley gives me a muddled look.
“What do you mean?” Gram asks, before Ashley can respond.
“Because,” I pause to look at Gram derisively. She’s such a buttinski. I should expect nothing less at this point.
I turn back to Ashley. “Because he likes you, Ash.”
Wow, I actually do feel like I’m in high school.
“What?” Her eyes bug out of her head.
“You heard me.” I’m having a hard time holding back a giggle because of the expression on her face.
“But he always flirts with you?” She looks as confused as I probably did when he told me.
“Yes, I know. But it’s not because he likes me. He’s a weird one, that Justin.” I say, not wanting to tell her everything he said. My loyalty to Justin—although very small—is still there.
“So?” I ask, poking her in the arm with my finger. If we are going back to high school, I might as well act the part.
“So?” Grams also interjects.
“So . . .” Ashley trails off, her mind obviously spinning.
“Well, do you like him?” Gram asks, her impatience showing. I have no idea how she reads romance novels where the plot is drawn out chapter after chapter until there is some resolution, only for some conflict to pop up so it can be drawn out another ten chapters.
I look over to Ashley, who is sitting back against the couch. She’s still quiet, but then her head falls into her hands and sounds of hysteria start.
I look over at Gram, who shrugs her shoulders. I wasn’t sure how this would play out, but I didn’t think Ashley would cry.
“Ash,” I say after a few seconds of her blubbering. I grab her arm, trying to pry her hand away from her face. “Are you crying? I mean, I know it’s weird, and things will be different, but it’s okay if you don’t like him. It won’t ruin things. We can figure it out.”
She takes her hands away and she’s not crying. She’s laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, wanting in on the joke.
She takes a few seconds to bring herself back from the laughter. “This,” she finally declares. “This whole thing.”
“I don’t get it,” I say.
“Oh, I do,” Gram says.
“You do?” I ask her.
“I’ve read enough romance books. This is quintessential romance right here,” Gram points to Ashley.
“Huh?” I regard Gram with confusion.
“She likes him.” She winks at me.
I turn back to Ashley, “Do you?”
Ashley is quiet and won’t look at me.
“Do you?” I poke her in the arm again with my finger.
She turns to me, a smile spreads, quickly growing until it fills her small face as full as it can.
“You do!” I exclaim, grabbing her by the arm and shaking her slightly. “How long? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She ponders her hands in her lap, twiddling furiously. “For a while now,” she says, and then looks up at me. “I thought he liked you, so I never said anything. I didn’t want to ruin things.”
“You need to tell him,” I say, once again grabbing her by the arm and shaking her briefly.
“Why do I feel like a teenager right now?” Ashley asks. “I mean, we’re all adults here—why hasn’t he told me?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I think Justin is rusty when it comes to stuff like this. Plus, you know—the whole rejection thing.” I glance downward as Ian pops in my head. It isn’t bizarre for him to be there, because he’s been popping in a lot lately. I look up at Ash. “I guess I could say the same thing to you? Why haven’t you told him?”
“Same reasons, I guess. Plus, I need to keep my head into my auditions. Unrequited love doesn’t help in that area,” she says.
“You love him?” My eyes widen.
“No.” She pushes me and rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Gram asks.
“I don’t know.” She looks to me for answers.
“Don’t look at me,” I say, shaking my head. “My high school work is done here.”
“This is all so weird,” she declares. “I mean, how awkward will it be now?”
“Why does it have to be awkward? You like him. He likes you,” I say.
“I know, but do I just walk up to him and say, ‘hey’ and hope he understands?” She gives me a confused look.
“Well, however you do it, I want you to make sure I get to be maid of honor at the wedding.” I grin brightly.
“Oh, geez.” She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Bridgette. First, I think we need to get it all out in the open.”
“I think you just need to go out for coffee or something. See where things go.” I smile at her but then feel my smile falter, as suddenly a new feeling starts to sink in: jealousy. Actually, jealousy is a strong word. It’s more like envy. I’m not envious she and Justin like each other, quite the opposite. What I am feeling is a little envious of the pending relationship. New relationships are so fun. I don’t have any of that right now, only old, drama-filled ones. I need to remember my decision to stand on my own for a while. I really do need it.
After concocting the perfect text, which ended up saying, “Hey Justin, wanna meet for coffee?” (It took fifteen minutes to compile that—we are such girls), Ashley was off to meet up with him. I would only let her leave when she had promised repeatedly that she would call me as soon as she could to tell me every detail. She seemed pretty nervous when she left.
“So, how are you feeling about all of that?” Gram asks as I come back into the room from walking Ashley to the door.
“Ashley and Justin?” I say, scrunching my face in confusion. “Why would you ask that?” I go back to my usual place on the couch.
“I don’t know,” Gram says, looking down at her Kindle. “I guess it’s not as much fun to be excited for a friend in a new relationship when you don’t have one of your own.” Geez, that woman can read me like a book, which, I guess, makes sense.
“Nah.” I dismiss the thought with my hand. “Sure, there’s a little envy there. I’d like something new and exciting like that. But I’m happy for them.” I give her a thin smile.
“Well, you know what I’m going to say,” Gram nods once, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, I know. Someone will come along, better than the last one,” I say, acknowledging with my face I knew that was coming. “You read too many romance novels, Gram,” I say as I stand up and start to walk to my room.
She clicks her tongue. “I don’t read romance. I read historical,” she states, shoulders raised proudly. Then she gives me a little smirk, and we both giggle.
I sure do ad
ore that crazy lady.
CHAPTER 29
Friends.
We can totally to do this. I’m an adult and Ian’s an adult. Why should I push him away when I just got him back? I mean, why not? There are pretty much a million reasons why not, but I’ll push those aside.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I was sticking to my guns, not agreeing to try this whole friendship thing with Ian. But then he caught me in a moment when my guard was down. Maybe it was the whole Ashley and Justin thing. I was feeling lonely – lonely and full of ridiculous self-pity. And then Ian texted me, and on a whim, I told him we could try being friends.
Oh, gosh, this is a truly dumb idea. I’ve made some dumb choices in my past, but this one might be right up there at the top, probably next to the time I dyed my hair red. Essentially, it was orange. My sister called me “traffic cone head” for weeks. I’m thinking this will end up ranking near that debacle.
I stand up from my seat in the café where I asked Ian to meet me. It’s the café that Justin, Ashley, and I frequent. I wanted to meet up on my turf this time. I’m not sure why. It’s not to give myself a one-up or something; it just felt safe. It doesn’t matter now because I’m going to leave. It feels like the best thing to do. I grab my gold clutch purse and head for the door. It’s better to nip this bad idea in the bud before it gets any worse.
“Leaving so soon?” Ian’s voice croons to my left. I look over at him, which was a bad idea, because looking at him in his sharp black suit only makes me hate this friend idea even more. I don’t want Ian as a friend. I want more than friends.
“Um, yeah,” I say nervously, as I pull on the ends of my loose side braid and avert eye contact. “I need to be somewhere.”
“You do?” he asks, confusion on his face as he looks down at my outfit, which is quite casual for me—a pair of cropped distressed jeans, a sleeveless cream top with an asymmetric hem, and gold, flat T-strap sandals. I was trying to dumb it down and make my outfit more friend-like.
“Yes, I forgot.” I pull on my braid again and start biting my lower lip.
