Southern Charmer

by Jessica Peterson

  I can’t help it, though. Blame it on me being crazy for this girl. On wanting to know everything and anything about Olivia Wilson.

  Blame it on me being a lovesick, anxious asshole.

  Whatever the reason, I open the box.

  My stomach drops.

  A ring is nestled between the tiny white cushions inside.

  No joke, the diamond is the size of a fucking walnut. It’s huge. Sparkly and perfect, set in a simple platinum setting. It’s something straight out of a Tiffany ad.

  When I (briefly) considered proposing to an ex-girlfriend years ago, I went to look at rings. Diamonds a quarter of this size cost more than I have in my savings account right now. I imagine a diamond this big costs as much as what one of my sous chefs makes in a year.

  Made. Made in a year. I had to let all my sous chefs at The Jam go because my restaurant went bankrupt.

  I can’t afford to buy a ring this nice for Olivia. A year ago? Yes. But after taking a major financial hit when I closed The Jam, there’s no way I could swing something like this. Much less a wedding. The kind of big, beautiful wedding Olivia probably wants.

  All the panic and doubt and insecurity I’ve tried to shove aside comes rushing at me all at once. It’s like a tidal wave that hits me head on, leaving me reeling. I’m breathing, I’m blinking, but I feel like my mind has separated from my body, and I’m watching from above as the wave pulls me under.

  Olivia told me her ex proposed to her. But she didn’t tell me she kept his ring.

  Who was this guy who proposed to Olivia with a five figure ring?

  And why the hell did she keep the damn thing and bring it all the way from New York?

  I wonder if she couldn’t let it go because she wanted it so much. If she still wants it so much. Which kills me, because I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give her something even half as nice as this.

  A surge of white hot jealousy like I’ve never known slams through me. I’m really drowning now.

  Olivia dated this guy for a reason. He’s clearly successful. Probably has a cushy, stable corporate job.

  Basically the opposite of me.

  What if she starts missing the things he gave her that I can’t? When the excitement wears off and she gets sick of the hours I work, my small house, my smaller bank account?

  You’re a fun fuck buddy, I imagine her saying after she falls for him all over again when she goes back to Ithaca to quit her job. But you’re clearly not long term material. Ted is.

  In some distant corner of my mind, I know I need to take a breath. Calm down and come up with a plan so I can have a productive conversation with Olivia about how this ring is stoking the feeling of inadequacy I haven’t talked about much but I’ve been grappling with all month.

  I know I need to keep my cool until I know the facts. Maybe he made her keep the ring. Maybe it actually belongs to her family. An heirloom passed down from her grandmama or something.

  I glance at the ring. It’s so brilliant and fiery I have to squint to look at it without being blinded.

  Fuck that.

  I cross the room in two strides and yank open the bathroom door, not bothering to knock. It bangs against the wall.

  A voice in my head warns me to calm down. This is stupid this is stupid you are being so stupid right now.

  I ignore it, and barge into the bathroom like a lunatic. Because that’s what this girl has turned me into.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Eli

  Through the foggy shower door, I see Olivia whip around, her wet hair sending a spray of droplets flying against the glass.

  “Jesus, Eli, you scared me.”

  I hold up the open box. “What the hell is this?”

  Olivia blinks. Then she goes still.

  Panic grips my gut and squeezes.

  The sound of the running water is enormous between us.

  “You were digging through my drawers?” she says at last.

  “I wanted to take a pair of your fucking panties. Repay you for stealing my shirt. I was being cute.”

  “I didn’t know going through other peoples’ stuff was cute.”

  My heart is really pounding now. “Olivia, tell me what the hell this ring is about.”

  She hesitates. Just for a second. Just for a breath.

  But she hesitates.

  Which means—

  Christ.

  “It’s the ring Ted proposed with,” she says.

  I don’t know if it’s the close, steamy air in the bathroom, or the enormity of what I’m feeling, or what, but I suddenly feel dizzy.

  “But I thought you said you turned him down.”

  Olivia turns off the water and steps out of the shower, knotting a towel around her torso.

  “I did,” she replies. “Eli, I’m not going to marry Ted.”

  “Then why’d you keep his ring?”

  She swallows. Looks away.

  “Because he told me to wear it when I went back to him.” She looks at me. “That’s why. But I’m not going back to him. I’m going to return the ring, and then I’m going to be with you, Eli.”

  I search her eyes. “What if I don’t believe you?”

  A look of surprise crosses her face. Surprise that morphs into hurt.

  Shit. I’m letting my jealousy, my insecurity, get the better of me. But I can’t fucking stop. I feel helpless. Which makes me feel angry.

  I’m struck by the wild idea that maybe she’s been using me this whole time. Maybe I’ve just been a rebound for her. Yeah, things got intense between us. She told me she loved me. But that doesn’t mean she won’t wake up one day and wish I were the guy she left. Not Ted.

  Ted, who proposed to her with the fucking ring that’s a reminder of all the ways I’m falling short these days.

  “Why wouldn’t you believe me?” she says, eyes welling with tears. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you this whole time. I’ve let you see parts of me no one else ever has. I’ve been intimate with you in a way I’ve never been with anyone else. I’m in love with you, Elijah. Not Ted. You.”

  “I’m in love with you, too,” I say. Then I hold up the ring. “Which is why this bothers me so much.”

  Olivia blinks. “Wait. Are you jealous of my ex?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “You shouldn’t be.” She takes a step forward. “Ted’s a great guy, but I think I’ve made it pretty clear to you that he’s not the guy for me. You are. I’m done with Ted.”

  I take a step forward, too.

  “Then prove it. Move in with me.”

  Olivia

  My heart lurches. I don’t know what to make of this. One minute, Eli and I are having slow, lazy, quiet morning sex, and the next he’s charging into the bathroom, red faced and ready for a fight.

  “Move in with you? Where did this idea come from?” I say, genuinely distraught. “Eli, I know we’re in love. And I know we’ve spent a lot of time together over the past month. But I still haven’t figured out what my situation is going to be. What if my department in Ithaca can’t find a replacement and I have to stay up there until after the holidays? And what if this new job at the College of Charleston doesn’t pan out? I need time to get my ducks in a row.”

  His eyes are hard when they meet mine. “And I need an answer.”

  “Eli,” I say, bewildered. “You’re being ridiculous. We have plenty of time to talk about moving in together. Let’s revisit it when I know more about my future.”

  “I don’t want to revisit it,” I say. “I want to talk about it now.”

  I blink, hard.

  “But I don’t understand. You’ve never brought this up before.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” His gaze searches mine. “I like having you around. I need you around, Olivia.”

  I blink. He’s never been so needy before. So…insecure.

  This is not the confident, almost cocky, boyfriend I adore.

  “This isn’t like you, Eli.�
��

  “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes softening. “But I want to know you’re in this for real. I need to know you’re really stayin’. C’mon, Olivia, think about how perfect it would be. You can write. I can cook. Billy will be happy. And you won’t have to worry about payin’ rent. Let me give this to you. Please. It’ll lend you some breathing time to get back on your feet.”

  C’mon, Olivia. Eli says it exactly like Ted used to.

  And funny Eli mentions breathing time when really, he’s giving me an ultimatum. The opposite of this supposed freedom I’d have living with him.

  I know this feeling. I felt it when Ted got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

  A noose, tightening around my neck.

  “The only thing I want is you,” I whisper, my pulse beginning to race. “Please don’t do this, Eli. Please don’t tell me you want to tie me down after I’ve just won my freedom.”

  His hazel eyes go wide. “I’m not trying to tie you down. I’m trying to give you the freedom to write without worrying about money.”

  “No. You’re trying to trap me by forcing me to make a decision before I’m ready.”

  “I don’t get it.” He bends his neck. Our faces are inches apart. “Why aren’t you ready? You told me you loved me.”

  “Because I’m new to this!” I burst out. “This city, this career, this life. I want more time to explore it. I need to try on different things before I commit to moving in with someone. Hell, Eli, I ended a three year relationship less than a month ago.”

  He blinks rapidly, jerking back. Like I hit him.

  “So you want to try on different people?”

  “No,” I bite out. Tugging a hand through my hair, I sigh. “You’re missing the point, Elijah. I’m begging you. Please don’t give me this ultimatum. I want to be with you, but I need to take things slow. Why rush when we have the rest of our lives to explore this beautiful thing we just started?”

  He stares at me for a second. Then he holds up his hands and shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry, baby. But I need to know you’re mine. With everything going on at work—just…” His voice breaks. He clears his throat. “Bein’ with you is the only thing that makes me feel better, all right?”

  My pulse skips a beat—my head throbs—as the realization hits me.

  “Oh my God,” I say, leaning against the vanity to steady myself.

  “What?”

  “You’re not asking me to move in because you love me. You’re asking me because you don’t want to be alone.” Tears flood my eyes. “Jesus, Eli this has nothing to do with me, does it?”

  A flush of red creeps up Eli’s neck and spreads across his cheeks. His eyes flash with anger.

  “That’s not true,” he says. “You can’t tell me I don’t adore you.”

  My throat is so tight it makes my entire head hurt.

  “Of course you adore me. But I’ve asked you so many times to talk about what happened at The Jam. You always blow me off and start talking about my books, or you start touching me, and we—well. You know. Which makes me feel like maybe you’ve been using me as a distraction or something.”

  “No,” he says, voice shaking, clearly backtracking. “You’re so much more than that, Olivia.”

  A heavy sadness settles on me as I search his eyes. He has the panicked look of a cornered animal.

  “You’re right.” My voice trembles. “I did mean more to you than that. But now you’re making me feel used. You’re making me feel cheap. I think you know that what you’re doing right now is wrong. You’re doing it anyway, though, because you don’t believe me when I say I am going to stay. Why don’t you trust me?”

  Eli looks at me for a long minute.

  “I don’t trust you because I realized I know next to nothing about your life in New York,” he replies. He sets the ring on the counter beside the sink. I reach over and close the box. “Got me thinking that the guy who bought you that thing is the real deal, while I’m just some idiot you wanted to fuck.”

  His words are like a punch to the gut. I struggle to breathe. I can’t believe it’s Eli who’s saying these things. The man whose kindness and faith in me changed my life for the better in so many ways.

  “That is not at all how I think of you,” I manage. “What do you want to know about my life in New York? I’ll tell you anything.”

  He meets my eyes. “The only thing I want to know is whether or not you’ll move in with me.”

  I just stare at him. Is he serious?

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “My answer is no. I can’t move in with you. Not yet. But if you give me time—”

  “You’re always sayin’ you need more time.” He crosses his arms, making the muscles in his arms bulge. “Maybe you need more time because you’ve been planning to go back to him. Maybe you want to wear a ring like that. Be with a man like that—someone who can afford somethin’ so big. I’m sorry, too, but I’m done waitin’ on you. I’ve been nothing but patient, Olivia. But you can’t even find it in yourself to be honest with me. Why didn’t you tell me you kept his ring?”

  My gaze flicks to the jewelry box on the counter between us.

  “For the hundredth time, I am not going back to Ted. I’m sorry about the ring,” I say, feeling a stab of anger. “If I knew it was going to upset you so much, I would’ve flung the damn thing out the window. That ring is part of my previous life. A life I am going to leave in the past. I didn’t think you needed to know about it because you’re part of my future. A future I chose. Really, Eli, you’re better than this, and you know it.”

  “I’m better with you.”

  I feel another stab. This one is a stab of hurt.

  No one tells you how much being yourself—choosing yourself—hurts sometimes.

  “I need time.”

  He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob. A tear slips out of the corner of my eye. I wipe it away.

  “So that’s really a no,” he says.

  I nod, rolling my lips between my teeth.

  He takes a breath, making his big chest barrel out. Then he pushes off the counter, dragging a hand up the back of his head.

  “All right,” he says. “I guess that’s that. I should go.”

  I nod again, tears spilling out of my eyes with abandon now.

  He makes his way out of the bathroom. The sound of his footsteps has an awful finality to it.

  My mind races to calm me down as I follow him. You’re standing your ground. You’re being true to yourself. You’re doing the right thing.

  But watching Eli clamp the doorknob in his hand for the last time still feels wrong.

  His eyes, clear and wet, sweep up to meet mine.

  “They say timin’ is everything. Ours clearly sucks,” he says. “Maybe we weren’t meant to be together after all.”

  I don’t disagree with that. But it still fucking kills to hear him say it out loud.

  “I’m sorry about the ring,” I manage.

  His eyes harden. “I’m sorry, too.”

  And then he leaves.

  For the last time.

  I slowly slide down to the floor, clutching the towel to my chest.

  I cry until I’m lightheaded.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Eli

  I move through the days in a fog. I know I’m working too much. Drinking too much.

  Listening to too much Post Malone.

  I just fucking hate everything right now. I came home from The Pearl the other night and saw that Olivia’s car wasn’t in its usual spot in the driveway.

  I haven’t seen it since.

  Even if I hadn’t noticed her missing car, I would still know she’s gone back to New York early. The air is different. Charleston is suddenly sucked of every color. Every delight. Even the sky has changed. The early October sunshine has given way to an oily cloud cover that blankets the city.

  Olivia literally took the light with her. Because taking my heart and my pride wasn’t enough al
ready.

  The anger I feel towards this woman burns night and day in my chest. A furnace fueled by embarrassment and regret and self-loathing.

  But what was I supposed to do? Was I just supposed to just lay down and roll over after finding another man’s ring in her drawer? I recognize that things moved fast between Olivia and I. But when you know, you know.

  I know Olivia is the one. She didn’t feel the same.

  End of story.

  I need to let her go. It’s stupid, burning up like this over a girl who doesn’t want to commit to me. I just—

  I can’t fucking stand coming home to an empty house. Billy is morose. I am an insomniac. I spend my nights smoking and drinking. Watching shitty shows in my ever dwindling Netflix queue. I’m in the yoga studio every day, sometimes twice, grunting my way through class. I’m constantly working, going, doing. Anything to keep me from thinking about her.

  To keep me thinking about the things she said. I’m just a distraction to you. You used me.

  I drink some more. Stay away from my phone and the internet. The papers, too.

  My hands have started to shake when I’m working in The Pearl’s kitchen. My cooks are circumspect enough to not mention it. But I see the way they look at me. Pity in their eyes. I catch Naomi and Maria conferring in hushed tones in the locker room more than once, stopping abruptly when I appear.

  But only when Luke comes in to drop off a crate of pie pumpkins does anyone confront me face to face.

  It’s a Friday afternoon. A little past two, but the kitchen is already bustling as we prepare for the weekend rush.

  I’m turned away from the door, so I can’t see him enter. But I know it’s him by the low, judgmental whistle he lets out.

  “Damn,” Luke says. “Is he really makin’ y’all listen to Post Malone?”

  I can hear the eye roll in Maria’s voice when she answers him.

  “He’s been playing ‘I Fall Apart’ on repeat for a week now,” she stage whispers. “I can’t stand it anymore! For the love of God, help us, before I start dreaming about pasty white men with face tattoos.”