by Marie Landry
“Gwendolyn,” Jasper says, taking Gwen’s hands in both of his. “What a beautiful bride you make, and what a lucky man my brother is.”
Still grasping Jasper’s hands, Gwen turns her attention to me. I’m not surprised to find her eyes shining. “I don’t suppose you happen to have a sedative or something in your purse?”
I bite back a laugh. “No, sorry.” At Jasper’s confused look, I explain, “Overactive tear ducts. We’ve had the waterworks going in here for the last half hour or so.”
Gwen sucks in a deep breath and asks Jasper, “Are you ready for this?”
Jasper leans closer to her, their hands still clasped. “Are you ready?”
Gwen’s answering smile is positively dazzling. “Hell yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go make me an official part of the Perry clan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Thank god Marisol’s waterproof mascara was the real deal, otherwise I would have cried it off a million times over by now.
The last few hours have been the best kind of blur. Watching Jasper walk Gwen down the aisle, him looking handsome and earnest, her glowing with happiness. The tender smile on Jasper’s face as he kissed Gwen’s cheek and passed her hand to his equally handsome and radiant brother. The way Gwen and Evan both let out shaky laughs at the sight of tears in each other’s eyes. The simple yet beautiful ceremony performed by Hugh, and the couple’s vows, which were peppered with laughter and tears.
I’ve been to my fair share of weddings, but nothing else has ever compared to watching two of my dearest friends pledge their eternal love for each other in front of a small gathering of the people who mean the most to them. The fact I was among those few people left me humbled, grateful, and yes, teary.
Now, a few hours into the reception, I’m stealing a few moments alone in the bathroom to catch my breath. The sound of music and laughter filters through the closed door, making me smile. Everyone is having a great time. I’m having a great time, although there’s a growing pit in my stomach at the way Jasper seems to be avoiding me. We haven’t been able to say more than a few words to each other in passing or as we’ve been dancing in a group with his siblings and their friends.
Marisol’s words from earlier today float through my mind as I apply a fresh coat of lipstick. “You are a goddess,” I murmur to myself, making kissy lips and then smiling at my reflection. “Now go get your man.”
With renewed energy, I stride out of the bathroom. After a quick scan of the room, my gaze lands on Gwen and Jasper, who are standing close and laughing about something. Gwen waves me over when she sees me. The upbeat ’90s pop song that’s playing transitions into a slow song as I approach.
“Perfect timing,” Gwen says, taking Jasper’s arm and guiding him toward me.
Perfect timing indeed; every time a slow song has come on tonight, I’ve wanted to abandon whoever I’ve been talking to or dancing with and dart around the room until I found Jasper. It’s given me several flashbacks to my high school days, when we’d gather for an evening in the dark gymnasium every few months; I’d dance and laugh with my friends, all while tracking my crush with hawk eyes and wishing I had the confidence to ask him to dance.
Jasper takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. The hand holding mine is clammy, but I don’t mind, I’m just glad to have him this close again. His usual scent—light, fresh cologne and soap—is muddled with various fruity and floral notes from all the women he’s hugged today. I’m certain I even catch a whiff of my mom’s signature perfume. She got to dance with Jasper long before I did; the sight of them talking quietly as they swayed to the music made my heart swell.
All night, I’ve been imagining what I’d say to Jasper when we finally had a moment alone. I’d tell him how handsome he looks, how much I’ve missed him the last few days, how I can’t wait to spend more time with him. But what comes out of my mouth when I open it is, “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”
Jasper’s eyes are as unreadable as they are intense. With a sigh, he pulls me closer, sliding his arm further around my back and holding me tightly to him. His heart is hammering, and the hand in mine that was clammy before is now slick with sweat. He doesn’t deny he’s been avoiding me. In fact, he doesn’t say anything.
When the song ends, he brushes his lips against my temple as he releases me. “I think we should go talk.” His words are so soft, they’re almost swallowed by the noise around us. Part of me wishes I could pretend I didn’t hear him and we could simply join the party once more—together this time—and dance the night away.
He gives a little tug on the hand still clasped in his, and I follow him through the room, past twinkling fairy lights, artfully-arranged pumpkins, and bouquets of flowers in a riot of autumn colors. Without stopping, he scoops his suit jacket off the back of a chair as we pass, and then continues right on out the front door of the building and into the crisp night. The cool air is a welcome shock to my overheated skin. I suck it in, breathing deeply in the hope it’ll calm my racing heart. It doesn’t.
Jasper releases my hand and drapes his jacket around my shoulders. “I wanted to wait until the end of the night to have this discussion with you. I didn’t want to spoil your fun or take away from the happy couple in any way.”
“So let’s not,” I say. “Let’s wait and talk about this—whatever this is—tomorrow.” My voice sounds desperate to my own ears. Pleading. The sick, empty feeling in my stomach tells me whatever he’s about to say isn’t good. Tonight has been incredible, and I’d be perfectly fine continuing on in ignorant bliss until morning.
But Jasper is shaking his head. We’re going to do this now whether I want to or not.
“I-I think…I think we’d be better off as friends.”
He might as well have just spoken in a foreign language for all I understand the words. When my brain catches up, I sputter, “F-friends?” Then louder, “Friends?!”
Jasper cringes.
“You can’t tell me you don’t feel something more than friendship for me, Jasper. I may not be all that experienced when it comes to romance, but I know you have feelings for me.”
He makes a move as if to reach for me, then drops his hands, stuffing them in the pockets of his trousers. “I do. Of course I do, Willow. I care about you very much.”
A bewildered laugh pushes past my lips. “Then what is this? What’s happening right now?”
Jasper takes a step backward and turns away from me, muttering to himself as he yanks his hands from his pockets to rake them through his hair. It takes every ounce of willpower in me not to close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him from behind. I want to lay my head in the space between his shoulder blades and murmur comforting words, then turn him around and kiss him until we’re both weak in the knees.
His face is a mask of anguish when he turns around again. “You deserve better than me, Willow.”
“Bet-?” The word is overtaken by a disbelieving scoff. “Better than you? How can you say that? What does that even mean?”
“I was content being friends with you. I never intended to tell you about my feelings for you. Despite wondering at times if you felt something more for me, I didn’t truly let myself believe it was possible. How could it be? We’re so different. I don’t regret what happened between us in Honeywell. Not for one second…” His eyes soften, and for a moment I see a glimmer of something that gives me hope.
He shakes his head and whatever I saw disappears almost as quickly as it came. “But I shouldn’t have let it happen. I woke up knowing I shouldn’t have let it go that far, all while trying to convince myself we could make it work. When I went downstairs, I walked in on Gwen and Evan having an intimate moment in the kitchen. They were talking quietly, laughing as they kissed each other. So easy, so comfortable. Then I saw you with Liam later that morning, and the way you two were together, it was like one of those light bulb moments. You deserve someone like Liam.”
My mind goes back to that morning in Honeywel
l just a few days ago. I hadn’t seen Jasper on the street when Liam and I were talking. For a second, I wonder if that’s what this really is—jealousy over him thinking Liam and I were flirting—but his pained expression tells me he genuinely believes what he’s saying: he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me.
“I don’t care about Liam,” I say, amazed at how steady my voice is. “I care about you.”
“I don’t mean Liam specifically,” he says. “But someone like him. Someone who’s charming and confident and who likely doesn’t second-guess every move he makes or every word out of his mouth. You, Willow, you’re so passionate and creative and fun. You laugh easily and smile often. You deserve a man who’s outgoing and fun-loving, who can be there for you and give you all of himself. Not someone who’s stuffy and awkward. Not someone who’s tied up in knots and still trying to figure things out at the age of forty.”
My head bobs uncontrollably as I take in everything he’s saying. “Okay. Okay, Jasper. How about a man who fits in with my family? With my friends? Who knows me well, understands my anxieties, sees my vision for the future and thinks it’s amazing? Thinks I’m amazing?” My voice cracks on the last few words.
“Yes, yes, of course. All of that. You deserve all of that, Willow.”
I throw my hands up, exasperated. “I just described you, Jasper! You are all of those things. You’re the one I haven’t been able to get out of my head for weeks. You’re the one I’ve let past my walls and decided to trust and care about when I wasn’t sure it was even possible. You’re the one who’s made me feel seen in a way I never have before. You’re the one…the one I’m falling for.”
His eyes flick away from mine. His throat works, Adam’s apple bobbing over and over. “I’m honored you’ve let me into your life these last few weeks. It’s been a special time for me, one I’ll cherish always. But you live here in Bellevue. You just moved back and you’re happy here. Thriving, even. And I…well, my home and my work are in Toronto. We could attempt long distance for a while, but I think we both know it’s not sustainable, not with the hours we work and the two-hour drive. Typically when people commit to a long-distance relationship, there’s an end in sight, a plan for one or both people to move, but that’s not likely for either of us any time soon.”
“Do I not get a say in this at all?” I ask. He doesn’t say anything. “What are you so afraid of, Jasper? It’s like you’re terrified to let yourself be happy. To believe someone would care about you or even love you.”
“I am afraid,” he says, his voice whisper-soft. “I have some things to work through and it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to wait or feel pushed aside while I figure things out. You deserve more than that.”
“You keep talking about what I deserve, but isn’t that up to me to decide? We could help each other, like we’ve been doing the last few weeks. Or if you wanted to figure things out on your own, I’d wait. You’re worth waiting for, Jasper.”
“I…” He sighs, plowing his hand through his hair again. “I believe we’re at an impasse.”
“An impasse.” My voice is flat, completely void of feeling. It’s shocking because my body feels like a pressure cooker of emotions, ready to blow. “That’s it then? You don’t even want to try, to see where things go? We had a few great, arguably life-changing weeks together that culminated in a one-night stand and now…that’s it?”
Jasper’s frown deepens with each word out of my mouth, and a deep flush creeps across his face. When I say ‘one-night stand’ he flinches so hard you’d think I’d slapped him. His eyes dart away from mine again and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
And god help me, even though I can practically feel my heart cracking, it also aches for Jasper. I don’t believe he wants to end things. He’s doing it because he thinks it’s what’s best, even though he’s completely misguided and is hurting both of us in the process. I want to step forward and wrap my arms around him, cover his mouth with mine, press him close. I want him to try. I want him to think I’m worth trying for. I want to make him see that even though he doesn’t have his shit together—guess what? Neither do I. Who does?
Jasper opens his mouth and then closes it again, sighing deeply. And suddenly I know no matter what I say, it won’t make a difference. I’m going to walk away from this conversation with a broken heart and my dreams of a future with Jasper dashed. Desperation wells up inside me, propelling me forward. I grip Jasper’s face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes before I press my lips gently to his in a last-ditch effort to get him to change his mind.
Although his eyes slip closed, he doesn’t move, doesn’t kiss me back. When I release him, his eyes remain closed. He looks like he’s in agony. Well, that makes two of us, except his pain is his own doing. I wait until his eyes flicker open once more before I turn on my heel and walk away. In my mind, I beg him to stop me, plead with him to change his mind, to grip my hand and whirl me around and kiss me like his life depends on it. But he doesn’t, so I keep walking, flinging the door open and striding inside.
The first person I see across the room is Gwen. At her concerned look, I give her a bright smile, hoping the dark room will mask how fake it is. She starts in my direction but stops when someone approaches me from the side. It’s an old friend of mine, Meredith, and her cute Irish boyfriend, Kieran. When I walk away a few minutes later, I can’t remember a single word that passed between the three of us.
I make a beeline for the bar, in desperate need of a stiff drink. I’ve limited my alcohol consumption so far because I assumed I’d be going home with Jasper at the end of the night and I didn’t want to be too tipsy. Well fuck that and fuck him.
The bartender is otherwise occupied when I approach, so I peruse the menu, trying to figure out what will get me drunk the fastest. A gentle hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to find Ivy sliding onto the stool beside me.
“Are you okay? Things looked pretty intense between you and Jasper when you went outside, and now…”
Despite my best efforts to maintain a calm facade, my face crumples. I slap my hands over my face, hiding my trembling lips and the tears that push their way out.
“Oh, honey.” Ivy rubs my back. The gesture makes me want to cry harder until I realize Jasper’s jacket is still around my shoulders. I expect the realization to make me feel worse, but for some reason, it washes away the rising tide of emotion, stopping my tears and leaving me numb.
“I’ll go return this to him,” Ivy says, slipping the jacket off my shoulders. “Do you want me to have a word with him? Or perhaps kick him in the balls?”
My lips twitch. “Maybe just throw the jacket on the ground and do a little dance on it before returning it? I’m sure the wrinkles and dirt would bother him more than anything else could.”
Ivy nods and takes a step away. My hand darts out to stop her. “You can’t say anything to Gwen. I won’t have anything spoiling this night for her.”
“Of course. I’ll be right back. Don’t start drinking without me.”
The bartender approaches and I tell him I need another minute to decide. Ivy returns much faster than expected; I picture her wordlessly thrusting Jasper’s jacket at him, the ire and disappointment on her face doing all the talking for her.
“Three shots of vodka, please,” she says to the bartender.
“Three?” I ask.
A hand brushes my arm a second before a light kiss lands on my cheek. Marisol slides onto the stool beside me. Her smile is sympathetic, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows me well enough to know I’ll likely lose it if she asks how I am or what she can do for me. That will come later, likely accompanied by chocolate and ice cream and snuggles on the couch while I cry.
For now, we pick up the shot glasses the bartender sets in front of us. There have been countless toasts tonight—to the happy couple, to love, to friendship, to family—but we don’t say a word now as we raise our glasses and clink them together. The liquor burns in the best way po
ssible, drawing a hiss from my lips.
Our glasses hit the bartop at the same moment. The bartender grins at us, probably thinking this is the beginning of some bridesmaids gone wild scenario. Ivy wiggles three fingers and he refills our glasses, offering me a wink that makes my stomach turn sour.
But not sour enough to stop me from raising my glass and murmuring “Cheers” before slamming it back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Over the next few weeks, I keep myself so busy I don’t have time to dwell on what happened with Jasper. I expect Marisol to remind me of my promise to loosen the reins with Cravings and take a step back, but I think she understands I need to work right now. I need to stay occupied to the point of exhaustion in order to keep functioning.
The morning after the wedding, I spackled a ton of makeup over the dark circles under my eyes, slapped on a smile, and dragged my hungover ass to Gwen and Evan’s post-wedding brunch. I wanted so badly to bail, but I couldn’t do that to my friends. I’m still undecided whether I was grateful for or disappointed in the fact Jasper had left for Toronto early that morning after telling his brother he was ‘unwell’. I talked and laughed and smiled my way through brunch, promising myself I could fall apart later. That became the mantra that kept me going.
And when I finally went home and allowed myself to fall apart, it was epic. I’m surprised I didn’t slip into a sugar coma after all the booze and junk food I consumed. At Marisol’s insistence, I took a few days off, during which I lived in my pajamas and didn’t leave the apartment. It was my mom who finally came over and forced me to shower, eat a proper meal, and share my feelings. I realized wallowing didn’t feel as good as I hoped it would; it only made me miss Jasper more. Ever since then, I’ve been a machine, coming up with and executing a flurry of new ideas for Cravings. Turns out getting my heart broken had the unexpected side effect of stoking my creativity.