Almost Perfect: A Frenemies to Lovers Romance

by Claudia Burgoa

  “From what I heard, her mom wanted her to take care of her affairs. Her friends were with her.”

  Kaden closes his eyes. “Do you think she’s going to go back to…”

  “No,” his wife answers. “Trust her, okay? Alex, do you know who was with her?”

  I shrug. “Tucker and Ethan for sure. I don’t know the name of the other two.”

  “Zeke and Rocco,” Kaden grunts. “Okay, Tucker is with them.”

  “Do you want us to take Draco?” Sadie asks.

  “If you don’t mind, she left him with me,” I say, trying not to sound desperate. This is the only thing I can do for Hannah—and I want to do it.

  Kaden looks at me and nods. “Thank you for being there for her.”

  “Sometimes, you have to fall apart in order to put the pieces back together and create someone even stronger,” I blurt.

  “What did you say?” Sadie asks.

  “It’s something Mom said once when I...a few years back, I was going through a rough patch.”

  “Your mother is wise.”

  I nod.

  “Kaden, we knew it was going to happen,” Sadie says, looking at her husband. “She’s been saving everything, keeping us away to make sure we’re not hurt. She couldn’t continue.”

  “I hate this, Sade.”

  I feel like I’m in the middle of a conversation that’s meant for just the two of them, yet moving away doesn’t seem right either.

  Kaden pulls out a card, asks his wife for a pen, and scribbles on it. “Here, call if you hear from her or if you need anything. I trust you’ll be discreet with my private information.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He looks at his watch. “If we call Duncan, maybe we can get a charter out of here before lunchtime.”

  I check my watch and sigh. Mom’s going to kill me.

  “My jet is ready to leave. You can take it.”

  “Were you going somewhere?”

  I wave them away. “Not really, let me call the pilot to change the route. You’re going to Seattle, right?”

  “Please don’t worry about us, we can make a few calls,” Kaden says.

  “Chartering out of here without a reservation takes at least five hours. Let me do this for you.”

  Sadie looks at me and squeezes my hand. “You’re not soulless.”

  “She’s mentioned me?” I ask, amused.

  Sadie nods and smiles.

  When I enter my new apartment, I sigh. There’re too many boxes to unpack. Maybe I can use this as an excuse to skip visiting my parents. But Mom is pissed at me for leaving last week. My ticket to Colorado left for Seattle.

  My options are calling Sterling to borrow his jet or texting Mom. Instead, I call Dad.

  “Are you okay, son?”

  I shake my head and ask, “Can you run interference?”

  He sighs. “What is going on with you, Alex?”

  I tell him everything that’s happening with Hannah.

  “Well, then I’ll tell her the truth. You’re in charge of this girl’s cat and won’t be able to come until you make some arrangements.”

  “Can we keep this away from June?”

  “How much do you care for this girl?”

  “Not sure, I’m trying to figure it out, Dad.”

  “Let me know if you need anything, son,” he concludes. “Your mom will understand.”

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  Golden Boy: Can I have Hannah’s email or her number?

  Ethan: If you need to contact her, send me a message or a letter that I can forward to her.

  Golden Boy: A letter? Like those things you handwrite and put in an envelope?

  Ethan: Yep, that’s what she said.

  Golden Boy: Fuck, she’s impossible. Well, send me the address where I can mail them.

  Ethan: Just like that, you’ll be mailing her letters?

  Golden Boy: She wants letters, I’ll send her letters.

  Ethan: Not sure what to make of you two, but I’ll email you my address.

  Golden Boy: Where is she?

  Ethan: She’s planning on traveling around the world. That’s all I can say.

  Eighteen

  Hannah

  The flight gave me a lot of time to think things through. Did I really just leave my life behind and take off without much direction?

  In the process, I might have just destroyed one of my careers. The dean told me I could leave for the rest of the semester, but he couldn’t promise to keep my position available afterward. I’ll have to talk to him about extending my leave in April. I have the feeling he’s trying to fill my position before he lets me go.

  I argued that everyone takes a sabbatical. He argued that I sprung it on him, and I’m not that seasoned. I’m at the bottom of the tenure track. Meaning, I’m the first one to go if there are any job cuts.

  Perhaps I should have fought him for my job. I just didn’t have the fight in me to remind him that my classes have a big waitlist. Not to mention, I’m one of the few professors who everyone likes. What am I going to do if I lose my teaching job?

  As I left behind everything and everyone I care about, I realized that I didn’t have a real plan or a board to guide me. My life is gone…and I’m not sure what I’ll come back to once this sabbatical is over.

  The scariest question is if I’ll still fit in everyone’s life when I’m back. It’s happened with my parents and my younger siblings. They have inside jokes I don’t understand because I’ve been away for too long.

  The everyday calls and texts aren’t enough when you’re not a part of their daily routine. It doesn’t mean they don’t love me; I’m just not part of the core. My gut fills with terror. What if I can’t put myself back together?

  I suck in a deep breath and pull my laptop out of the case. The convenience of letting Tucker send me on a private plane is that I can have as many panic attacks as possible. I need a strategy, urgently. My first order of business is to become emotionally stable.

  But can I do it?

  Nineteen

  Finding Yourself in an Ocean of Uncertainty

  By Hannah Bell

  When the year started, I wasn’t sure how things would go for me. I made only one resolution. By mid-February, I broke it. My plan failed because I didn’t take into account my habits. See, repetition develops into a habit. A habit repeated frequently becomes a reflex. That’s why my resolution went out the window.

  By reflex, I mean, I had sex with the same guy who I’ve been with on and off for some time. I claimed it to be an accident. But, it’s evident that after the second time, it wasn’t. It’s a habit. A bad habit. We’re a reflex. It’s now clear that no matter how many times I make a resolution, I won’t follow through until I act with conviction.

  All these years, I’ve been discouraged by the results of what doesn’t happen in my life. The thing is, I realized I have to take real action. There’s a difference between writing down my life plan and acting to create a better future.

  Change is an action, not a wish.

  My life can’t continue like this. You know that saying, those who can’t teach?

  Every semester, while I’m in front of my students, I try to teach them more than literature. I also try to open the world to them, teach them to think for themselves and to take charge of their lives.

  But that’s something I haven’t done for myself in a long time. I’ve been hiding from the world in plain sight. My life has become so stagnant that it flat out terrifies me. It's not as bad as pushing me to the point of losing my identity and sense of direction. But if I’m not careful, it might happen.

  I won’t let the past stop me from achieving my dreams, fulfilling my hopes, and finding a future I can enjoy.

  After receiving some news that pushed me emotionally into the ground, I’ve decided to pick myself up, dust off the dirt I picked up during the fall and move on. I’m in a transition period. A stage of self-discovery. And I hope that during this time, I can lear
n something, not only from myself, but from nature and everyone I meet.

  The most important thing I want to carry with me after all is said and done are the lessons I learned about loving myself above everything.

  Until Next Time

  Chapter Twenty

  Testing, testing 1-2-3,

  Are we serious about sending letters?

  I must confess, this is different. Pretty retro. I think the last time I sent something similar to this was back on Valentine's Day. Mom made me.

  It must have been around kindergarten. I remember sitting at the table along with my sisters and brothers. We each had to sign our names to a bunch of cards and stuff them in envelopes. Then seal them with colorful heart stickers. My cards were Superman (I hate the dude, like seriously he’s the most arrogant superhero). Jack had taken all the Batman cards. Jason chose SpongeBob.

  Can I at least know why we’re pretending it’s 1920?

  Alex Spearman

  P.S. I don’t want to be that guy, but make sure you call your parents. They’re worried.

  Dear Unicorn,

  Your feline has a strong personality. We’re still getting to know each other, but maybe by the time you’re back, we’ll be friends. Or he might’ve killed me in my sleep…who knows.

  Where in the world are you?

  Ethan made it sound like you’re some kind of Carmen Sandiego.

  Please, let me know how you’re doing. The last time I saw you, you were…missing your spark.

  Alex

  P. S. I’m thinking about getting a dog.

  P. S. 2 Did you call us a reflex? I feel like you just said that after we’re together, you need to take an antacid and move on. Low blow.

  P.S. 3 I can’t believe you keep airing our problems to everyone who will read your articles.

  Dear Alex,

  Thank you for the pictures and the update on Draco. You asked how I’m doing. I’m well. Have you ever been to the Dominican Republic? In case you’re wondering if I’m on vacation, I’m not. We’re building a school. I’m also teaching English and practicing my Spanish.

  There’s something that puzzles me, though, you mentioned that the last time you saw me, I wasn’t myself. I was missing my spark. It’s been almost seven weeks since the last time you saw me. First, I didn’t know I glistened like the vampires in Twilight. Secondly, what do you mean by that? I looked dull?

  As far as the letters, well, I really don’t feel like talking right now.

  Hannah

  P.S. Draco doesn’t like dogs.

  P.S. 2 I never compared having sex with you to acid reflux. I said it’s a reflex/habit. Are you still reading my articles? I’m not airing our problems. We are not a couple.

  P.S. 3 You’re that guy, I’ll contact my parents when I’m better.

  P.S. 4 Thank you for your concern.

  Mom,

  Where do I start?

  I’m sorry about what I said over the phone. You’re more than a mother to me. It was a bad day, maybe a bad week.

  The month sucked.

  It’s April, and I’m hoping to make amends. Before you ask, no, I didn’t do drugs. I might’ve drunk enough tequila and bourbon to keep a buzz going for a week. But I was safe and with the guys.

  I’m traveling. Perhaps you already figured that out, since I’m publishing some articles based on this trip.

  What can I say? I was due for a breakdown.

  That doesn’t give me license to be cruel, though, and for that, please forgive me. Your birthday is almost here—and so is mine. I know you wanted to do something fun, but let’s pencil it for next year, just the two of us.

  I miss our time, and I promise to start going home more often once I’m back.

  Love you,

  Hannah.

  P.S. I think the school is going to fire me.

  P.S. 2 Say hi to Dad and the kiddos.

  Tess: Happy Birthday!

  Hannah: How are you?

  Tess: Better since the last time we spoke. I can’t believe you’re not talking to anyone. Dad was surprised to hear that you called me. I told him I’m your favorite.

  Hannah: It was your birthday. I don’t have favorites.

  Tess: I went to the old house.

  Hannah: Why would you do that?

  Tess: You told me it was full of crap, and curiosity got the best of me. Our rooms were still there, untouched. I grabbed some old pictures of us and old diplomas.

  Hannah: Are you okay?

  Tess: More than fine. I let go of Alicia long ago. (I’m not judging you. She was worse with you than with anyone else, even at the end.) I’m a mother, and I know what mothers are supposed to do. Sadie is Mom. Maybe she didn’t conceive me, and I missed thirteen years of her, but she’s Mom.

  Hannah: I know.

  Tess: You were nasty with her.

  Hannah: I already apologized. It was a hard day, Tess. It’s been hard for the past ten years.

  Tess: Sorry, I feel like I haven’t been there for you as much as I should have.

  Hannah: You have been here, I get it. You have a life.

  Tess: What’s happening with Alex?

  Hannah: Nothing.

  Tess: You like him more than just sex, I know you. You don’t want to accept it. From what I read in your last article, I’m guessing you had sex with him in Paris.

  Hannah: My battery is about to die.

  Tess: Fine, let’s not talk about him. I’m sending you a camera for your birthday, by the way. You should practice photography while you’re away.

  Hannah: I love you, sis.

  Tess: Love you too, Banana.

  Dear Nana,

  Why do they call you Nana?

  When was the last time I saw you?

  … as you know, I went to your apartment the day you left for Cabo. After your friends dismissed me, I stayed at my sister’s place.

  Do you know the walls between your apartment and June’s are thin?

  (It’s disturbing. My sister heard us having sex. For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you tell me?) Now, back to you, I didn’t mean to listen to your conversation. I just heard a few sentences here and there.

  Why do your friends call me Golden Boy? I’m not blonde, just saying. If they have to use my nickname, it’s the Speedman. Just google it.

  Back to your spark…when you left, I watched you from afar. You looked defeated, sad...there’re many things I could tell you, but it’s not my place.

  Have you talked to your parents? Sadie is sad; I hope you guys patch things up. I’m flattered you’ve told her about me. Does she know about our reflex? I didn’t think we had gone public with our relationship.

  Why do you like to teach?

  Alex

  P.S. We’re talking about a puppy, not a monster.

  Dear Reflex,

  Why Nana?

  When I was sixteen, things got bad between my mother and me. Dad transferred me to a new school where I met Ethan and Tucker. They were seniors, I was a junior. They moved from Texas a year before. Tuck had an attitude problem, and his parents were trying to help him adjust it with music.

  I’m sure you know the Deckers—he’s related to them. One of their kids, Ainsley, owns an art academy. She has a program for troubled teenagers. Dad and Gage (that’s Tess’s husband) pushed me to join. Imagine the Breakfast Club, but instead of having a Claire Standish, we had two John Benders.

  The guys began to call me Hannah Banana. Zeke was too lazy to say the whole thing and reduced it to Nana. It stuck, and here we are, with Nana.

  I’m pretty sure the short answer is because they have nothing better to do than tease me as if I were their little sister. But I felt like sharing the long version with you.

  So, you heard part of the conversation. Those days are a blur. Still, I can’t remember everything. The pain I’ve pushed away for years surfaced. I regret some things I said, mainly the way I talked to Mom. She’s been nothing but amazing to me since we met.

  Have you ever regrett
ed anything?

  Hannah

  P.S. Why do you want a dog?

  P.S. 2 Why is your name Alexander and not something with a J, like Jupiter, Janus, Julius…

  Hannah,

  A letter?

  It’s the last thing I imagine you’d send, but I love it. Thank you for the birthday wishes and presents. I hope the cookies arrive fresh. Ethan said he was sending you an overnight package. Happy (belated) Birthday, sweetheart. I can’t believe we’re not together to celebrate it. In the twenty years I’ve known you, this is only the second one I’ve missed. It’s just as painful as your twelfth birthday.

  My favorite one was your 9th birthday. Organizing your party, being in charge of that smile made my entire year. You’ve been mine since you came to my flower shop, never forget that. Even though I have four other kids, you’re my first.

  I’ve been keeping up with the magazine. You’re doing great things. I know it’s hard to let go. Please, reach out if you need me. I’ll be here waiting for your call, text, or letter.

  Love,

  Mom

  P.S. We met Alex. He’s good looking and not soulless as you described him.

  Nana,

  Why Alexander and not James?

  I’m special.

  Kind of…Mom’s parents died in a car accident a couple of days before I was born. It was kind of like a tribute to my grandfather. I’m sure if they were still alive, my name would be James (that’s Dad’s name), Joshua, Jeffrey, Jordan, or something like that.

  Unfortunately, I can’t say I was lucky because I’d rather have met them than be the odd name in the family.

  Regrets? I don’t regret what I do, I learn from life.

  If I were saving all my mistakes and just grieving them instead of collecting them as pieces of wisdom, my life would have zero meaning. What happened after your mother died is called grief.