by Celeste, B.
Accepting it, I just nod. Forcing out a thank you is too hard and I’m afraid it’ll say too much. My voice will crack and show how much I hurt, how much I’m shattering and splintering internally.
When it’s just Everett left sitting in my room, he bolts up with an unreadable expression on his face. “River, I—”
“Leave.”
“I can—”
“Please leave,” I whimper, barely able to hold it together for another second longer. My hands shake as they clutch my phone and he reaches out but I quickly move away.
His touch would burn me, and not in a good way.
He realizes I won’t relent and rakes a hand through his hair before walking out of my room. Sitting on my bed, I wipe away a few stray tears and power on my phone again.
There’s a message from Emma about the double date waiting for me when it loads.
David can’t wait to meet you!
My chest aches. I can’t wait either.
24
Everett / 27
The walls of my apartment are closing in around me. They have been since I got back from Oliver’s going-away party with Isabel hot on my tail. What’s worse than that was stepping into the building only to see her father glaring daggers at me and telling Issy to go inside while we chat.
Nobody wants to be on the bad side of Blake Allen, which is why I’ve done everything in my power to stay on good terms with him. To say Isabel’s appearance at the party after she packed a bag and left to her parents was surprise enough, but Blake?
Fuck.
It’s plenty bad having to relive the moment of River’s absolute dissolve. I didn’t lie to her—would never lie to her—but for the first time in ten years, I don’t think she believed me. In fact, her clear rejection makes me wonder if the trust we’ve always shared is gone for good.
All because of Blake Allen.
I knew there was a reason Issy put up with my shit. Hell, I put up with hers over the years too. After meeting Blake and Gianna, I knew where Isabel’s tenacity came from. She was raised to get the best in life and never settle for anything less, which made me wonder why the hell she wanted me. But then circumstances changed and Issy and I were tied together in ways neither of us expected. Her parents found out and encouraged me to propose, to cement our future.
Then everything went to shit.
Blake showing up sent me into a downward spiral to rock bottom. Between hurting River and then getting sucked back into the world of the Allens, I had no idea what to do. And when Mr. Allen gave me the black velvet box that contained a cherished Allen heirloom, I knew what he expected. No, what he demanded.
“It’s time, Everett. You’ve had ample opportunity to live your life, but it’s time for you and my daughter to live one together.”
Honestly, the words didn’t sink in until he slapped the box in my hand and walked away. The ring I have yet to look at weighs on me just thinking about sliding it onto Isabel’s finger, and I know I’ve cornered myself for good.
I’ll always be here for you.
And I have been.
There’s a soft knock on the door before Issy pops her head in. We haven’t spoken much since the party or her father’s visit. I think she’s giving me space. She must know what he gave me, but she doesn’t say anything.
Until now. “It was inevitable, wasn’t it?”
Our marriage. “Why now?”
“Why not now?” she argues, sitting down next to me on the mattress. “When you said you wanted to wait until you graduated college, I waited. Then you said you wanted to settle into your new position at the company, so I waited longer. You barely showed any enthusiasm when I finally moved in, and I chalked it up to the death of your bachelor pad. But what’s the excuse now?”
The truth is on the tip of my tongue, and I’m two seconds away from saying River’s name when she says it instead.
“I asked River to talk to you, you know.” Her statement shocks me, grabbing my full attention. “The night I drove her home from campus, I asked her for a favor. But she never spoke to you and then I found out you kept lying to me about where you were, and I lost it. Can’t you see we’re perfect for each other?”
A dry laugh bubbles from my pressed lips. “How are we perfect for each other? We do nothing but fight.”
“We both know what it’s like to lose someone important to us,” she whispers, her palm moving absentmindedly to her stomach.
Closing my eyes, I feel her move my hand on top of where hers rests. There’s nothing there but a memory of what our future almost held. And, sure, I would have given her a ring if fate hadn’t intervened … but it did.
“We’ve lost so much.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t want to keep losing you, Rhett. You promised I wouldn’t lose you.”
My heart pounds in my chest as emotions threaten to pour from my tear ducts. I did promise her that. She needed me the most the day she found out she was pregnant, and we needed each other even more the day she miscarried.
It took months before either of us were ready to go back to normal. Normal being stupid fights about equally stupid things. We were stronger because of the loss of our unborn baby but spiraled out of control since. I tell myself not to break my promise, to stay because I know she needs me, but it gets harder the further we seem to drift apart.
Isabel Allen doesn’t need me at all.
She needs love. A love I can’t, and won’t, be capable of ever giving her.
“You deserve the world, Issy.”
Her shoulders tense. “I deserve a man who’s as dedicated as you. That’s why my father gave you the ring. Don’t you get it? They approve, even after everything.”
But they shouldn’t.
It eats at me that Blake Allen is adamant about me marrying Isabel. I haven’t proved shit to him, and I admit as much. I work hard, almost too hard, so I can support myself and prove to the disloyal assholes at the company I’m just as good as they are.
“Don’t you think it’s strange your family supports our less than stable relationship? How many times have you gone to them when I was treating you like an asshole?”
Her lips twist downward. “They know that nobody is perfect. Look at them, Rhett. You see how they are as a couple. Plus, Daddy loves how invested you are in our future. He knows I’ll be well taken care of when you get the company.”
And there it is.
Blake Allen wants to be tied to me because I’ll be the CEO when Robert retires, since Oliver wants nothing to do with it. Between the money I got from my parents’ and Granddad’s death, along with the trust fund left in my name from my father’s share in JT Corporation, I’m set for life. With a shiny title like CEO next to my name, someone as greedy as Blake Allen can associate with me and get the type of clients his business is sorely lacking.
He doesn’t give a fuck about his daughter’s happiness.
Removing my hand from her hold, I shift to face her better. “Can I be frank with you?”
“Of course.”
“Your father is a dickhead.”
Her lips part.
“And, yeah, I’m not much better,” I add, giving a terse shrug. I won’t bullshit her right now, because her dad and I aren’t as different as I’d like to admit. “But at least I want you to be happy. He just wants my money, to be related to me when I have a better title. Can’t you see that he’s using you?”
Her jaw clenches and teeth grind as she stands. When she flattens out her white blouse and flips her hair over her shoulder, I know I’m in for fight number one million and two.
“You’re right,” she snaps, “you’re no better. Obviously, you think I’m stupid. But I can tell that you’re using me, too.”
She walks over to the dresser and pulls something out of the wooden jewelry box I bought her that rests on top. Storming back over to me, she shoves a white piece of paper into my chest.
“I know damn well you didn’t buy anything for me,” she hisses, causing me to glance down at
the receipt from the jeweler in town. It’s from when I bought the broken heart charm for River. “But for a microsecond, I had hope that maybe you were buying a ring. So, yeah. Maybe I am as stupid as you think I am.”
“Isabel—”
“Screw you, Everett.”
She walks out of the room.
But it isn’t the end—not like it should be. Blake Allen has warped his daughter’s mind to believe that love shouldn’t factor into marriage, and the thought pains me. Just not as much as breaking my promise will.
Crumpling the receipt up and throwing it behind me onto the bed, I rest my face in my open palms. “Give me some fucking guidance,” I groan into the empty air.
Nothing happens.
25
River / 23
David Chen is a twenty-six-year-old post grad student who’s working on his PhD in Education. He’s of Asian descent, his hair and eyes are the same shade of brown-black, and his skin is the kind of natural tan that makes me look albino standing next to him. Not that it’s hard to do with my milky complexion, I guess. At least he’s not much taller than my five-five stature. I’d guess five-nine or five-ten, so he’s taller than me without making me feel like an albino and a midget.
I almost backed out until I called Steph and she gave me her version of tough love. Her put-on-your-big-girl-panties pep talk made me laugh in a way only she could accomplish. Our conversation should have lasted ten minutes tops, but my freak out led to her pressing me for the real reason I called. Steph knows me better than to believe I’m nervous about meeting a guy. New people will always terrify me, but Emma and her boyfriend Luke would be with us. I know Emma wouldn’t put me in any type of danger.
I spilled my guts about Everett. And, of course, there were a lot of questions regarding his anatomy. Questions that I’m glad she couldn’t see me blush over. But as soon as I mentioned what happened between us at Ollie’s party, her Mama Bear mode turned on and she cussed Everett’s name.
To my surprise, she didn’t tell me what a huge mistake I made. She never judged or told me I was going hell. Then again, I didn’t expect her to. When she congratulated me and said I had to compare penis sizes with David, I knew she didn’t think differently of me.
“You’ve loved him forever, River. The important thing is that you acknowledge when to cut your losses.”
But I didn’t. I mean, not really. I could have, should have, cut my losses when Everett offered to walk me home that night from the café. I should have waved him goodbye instead of inviting him upstairs. I should have stopped him from brushing his fingers against the broken heart charm on my chest.
I let my heart do the talking that night when I threaded our fingers together on my chest, when I stepped into his warmth, and when I let him lift my hair up to unclasp the necklace from my neck.
Nothing but skin.
So, no. I took too long to cut the losses I should have snipped that night, and maybe even long before then. Isabel Allen has been Everett’s since they were teenagers. I was naïve to think I could love him from afar, like it wouldn’t matter to me that he stayed with her.
David Chen is nothing like Everett, even though he’s only a year younger than him. He’s lively and fun and dorky. Hearing the story of how Emma met him in undergrad at some small college downstate makes me laugh as we eat cheese pizza at the bowling alley. When Emma and her boyfriend find out I don’t know how to bowl, they tease me mercilessly.
Emma and Luke are not originally from Bridgeport, both having traveled from other states to attend school here. Maybe if we were in business classes, they would recognize my last name as being one of the founding families. But to my small group of academia friends, I’m just River—an awkward, introverted loner who’s been sheltered her entire life.
If they only knew.
Emma and Luke laugh as I try holding the mint green bowling ball. It was the only one they had left, which seems kind of cruel.
David comes up behind me. “Want me to show you?”
He takes the ball and demonstrates how to hold it properly. I’m glad he doesn’t put his arms behind me or guide my arm back. He’s giving me personal space, not pushing. When I do as he says, I let it go too early and it rolls the wrong way.
Emma squeaks and pulls her legs up before the ball strikes her feet. My face burns in apology when I quickly fetch the ball and try brushing off their loud cackling. It is kind of funny, but mostly embarrassing.
David gives me one more pointer before gesturing for me to try again. This time I get a split, which seems perfectly named because there’s no way I can knock out the pins still standing on the opposite ends. I try. Gutter ball.
By the end of the second game, Emma and Luke dominate. Turns out, neither David nor I are good at bowling. Although, he’s better than me by a long shot.
We go back to our table and finish the greasy pizza. David tells me he’s hoping to continue teaching history somewhere local because he loves the area. David in Bridgeport? I can tell Emma likes the thought of it. For me, not her. It’s easy to see how much she loves Luke.
“River is an art teacher in town,” Emma raves, shooting me a wink. “You should see her work at the studio. What’s it called again, River?”
Gnawing on my inner cheek, I sheepishly look in David’s direction. “It’s Painter’s Choice on the corner of Main and West Ave.”
The same white, friendly smile he’s worn all night appears again. His two front teeth are a little crooked, I notice. I like it. They aren’t straight or too white like Everett’s.
Stop thinking about Everett, my inner voice chastises.
Unlike last time, I listen to it.
Ripping the napkin up in little pieces in front of me, I try keeping the conversation going rather than shutting down. “Um, you should check it out. You know, if you want. They have some of the kids’ artwork hanging up. It’s nice.”
David’s eyes lighten. “I’d like that.”
Emma beams. I blush.
“What do you like about—”
“What part of history do you want to—”
We stop when the other starts talking, making Emma and Luke laugh.
“Why don’t you two talk?” Luke suggests, nudging Emma’s arm. “How about we go across the street for some froyo?”
Her eyes widen. Emma’s been talking about frozen yogurt for weeks now but keeps saying she’s too busy to get some. I guess she hasn’t just been telling me that but bothering Luke too.
Emma turns to me. “Is that okay?”
I admitted before the boys showed up that I was nervous. She probably thought it was first-date jitters. That’s what Steph called it. And it partially is, but it’s so much deeper than that and I can’t tell her without admitting what I’ve done to get here.
“Of course.” I cringe when my voice comes out a little higher than normal, which makes Luke snicker behind his closed fist. Waving them off, I stare at the pile of torn napkin bits in front of me.
“Here,” David offers, sliding out of the booth and rounding the table so he’s on the opposite side of me. He pushes the empty plates away and crosses his arms on the edge of the scratched-up wood. “Better?”
My lips part and I blink. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He leans back, moving his crossed arms to his chest. “So, what’s it like to teach art? That has to be fun, right? I loved art class when I was younger.”
Art is an easy subject to talk about. “It’s great. The kids I teach need the kind of release that art can offer them. They can paint their feelings. The stuff they put on the canvas or paper isn’t an object, it’s their anger or sadness or happiness or joy. You know?”
Surprise flickers across his face, then washes away into something like awe. Dipping my head down so my hair shields my face, I clear my throat. “Sorry, I just get extremely passionate.”
“Don’t apologize. I think that was the coolest description of the job I’ve ever heard. I’m pretty sure my art tea
cher just told us to draw whatever was in her lesson plan.”
My lips turn upward. “My teacher was a big inspiration to me. She made me realize that I could use paint or clay or charcoal to express myself when words were too hard.”
When I dare peek at him, he’s watching me with interest. I force myself to keep eye contact and stop fidgeting. Drawing my hands onto my lap and locking them together, I say, “I bet it’ll be fun to teach history. What is your focus?”
He grabs his glass of unsweetened tea from where he was sitting and pulls it in front of him. “Right now, it’s Global Studies at Freemont. I’m just filling in for the previous teacher’s maternity leave.”
“And after that?”
His shoulders raise. “I’m hoping to become a professor and teach college kids about significant wars in U.S. history.”
“Oh. Wow.”
His cheeks redden. “It’s no big deal. History to me sounds like art to you, only lamer.” That gets a giggle from me, which makes him look victorious. “My parents own a Chinese restaurant and wanted me to go into the business. You know, take over after them. But I’ve never really been interested in the industry. It’s always been history for me—teaching.”
An easy smile stretches on my face, because I get it. As soon as Mrs. Cohen invested time in me, I realized it has always been art for me.
“Are you close with them?” I find myself asking, drawing the plastic straw from my water into my mouth and taking a sip.
David heaves a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I suppose. My dad more than my mom. Neither of them expected me to be in school for as long as I have, much less go the teaching route. But Dad has been supportive through the whole thing and Mom … well, she just worries. You know how mothers are.”
My mind drifts to Bridgette and all the times she calls and checks in on me or texts asking how things are or randomly brings pre-made meals by my apartment to make sure I’m eating. “Yeah, I do.”
“What about you and your family?”