I’ve never been the same.
When someone who owns your heart and soul leaves, you’re left to repair the wreckage. To somehow make due with a heart that’s never again whole. One that’s weaker and more vulnerable than before.
And the portion of your heart that’s left never stops yearning for its missing piece.
“No,” I whisper raggedly. Guilt settles inside me like a thousand-pound weight.
Instead of being furious or appearing hurt, Grant’s expression hovers between sympathy and remorse. “It’s always been him.” He doesn’t ask this but states it.
I can only nod.
His eyes fall closed and he inhales deeply before releasing a long, slow breath. Once his eyes open, he slides his hands into his pockets.
“Well, then I reckon we have two options.”
I furrow my brow in confusion but listen as he continues.
“You can walk down that aisle today and marry a man who will love you for the rest of his life.” He cocks his head to the side. “I promise I’ll be the best husband I possibly can and I’ll always support you,” he implores. “I would never do anythin’ to bring you shame or make you feel anythin’ less than the amazin’ woman you are.”
A single tear escapes and spills down my cheek. “And option two?”
His smile is tinged with sadness. “We part ways as friends, and you go find yourself the man you can’t live without.”
I lower my chin in defeat, staring down at the carpeted floor, and whisper hoarsely, “I’m not sure I can.”
Fingers lift my chin and he forces me to meet his gently admonishing gaze. “Don’t tell me Magnolia Mae Barton isn’t brave enough to go after true love.”
I let out a pathetic excuse for a laugh. “But what about you?”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he chides. “I reckon if we announce we changed our minds at the last minute down there, in front of everyone, I’d undoubtedly be the talk of the town.” He flashes me a knowing look, his lips forming a smug grin. “The sympathy from women everywhere would tide me over for years to come.” Even though he smiles, I know him well enough to detect the glimmer of unease in his features.
Shaking my head, I gesture wildly in the direction of the backyard. “But I can’t just—”
“Magnolia,” Grant affectionately scolds me. His heavy palms settle on my shoulders while his eyes bore into mine. “Listen to me. You need to stop worryin’ about everyone else.” He lets a long, quiet moment settle between us, as though allowing me time to soak up his words. “Always go after what you want. Go after your passion. The one thing—or person—you can’t live without.”
Those kind blue eyes I’ve come to know so well crinkle at the corners with his affectionate smile. He leans in to press a soft kiss to my temple, leaving his lips to linger there when he whispers, “Whatever you decide, I’ll always support you. And everyone who loves you will do the same.”
Magnolia
After leaving Grant, the decisions and expectations of me weigh me down more than the thick, oppressing humidity that plagues Fairhope during the summer months.
Just as I lay a hand on the door handle of my room, the wedding planner rushes my way.
“Magnolia, sweetheart. You have only two minutes.” She singsongs the last two words cheerily.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a smile. “I’ll be ready.”
She must detect something on my face that she’s seen while dealing with countless brides because her expression clouds. “You let me know if you need anythin’, all right?”
I nod with what I hope is a more convincing smile and slip inside the room, securing the lock behind me. “I just need a moment,” I mutter to myself.
I should also turn off my phone that’s still playing music. Turning, I take two steps to reach where my phone rests on the dresser and—
The object sitting beside my phone stops me dead in my tracks. Cherry Pop Rocks.
“Oh, Hollis,” I say softly.
There’s no way I can resist having some before it’s time for me to leave the room. Just as I pluck the packet from the dresser and tear it open, shaking a few pieces onto my tongue, something catches my eye.
The wastebasket off to the side of the dresser now has a wadded-up piece of paper on top. This wouldn’t be noteworthy in itself, except that I recognize a small portion of the handwriting. The familiar masculine slashes of inked words.
It belongs to the man who had been here just moments earlier.
Carefully setting the candy packet on the dresser, I reach down to withdraw the paper from the trash and smooth it out on the dresser’s polished surface.
Dear Magnolia,
I’m writing this with the delusional hope that maybe it’ll finally help me let go. You’re about to marry the guy who’s perfect for you. The one who can give you everything. The perfect house, family, and future just like your mom always wanted for you. And you deserve it. You deserve happiness.
The truth is, I’ve never once been able to forget about you. Never been able to forget about the way you kiss, the way you felt in my arms. I’ve never been able to erase the memory of the night I had the honor of making love to you. And that’s what it was for me. Making love.
I think I’ve loved you as long as I can remember. Sure, it started off as friends, but at some point, it became more, and it never stopped. God knows I tried to stop it, but dammit, you’re ingrained in my soul. You own my fucking heart. It’s that simple.
Saying goodbye to the woman I love more than anything else in this world has to be the hardest damn thing I think I’ve ever had to do. But I have to do it once and for all. You don’t need me in your life anymore, and God knows I need to get a damn life and move on.
It’s so stupid that I’m writing a letter I’ll never give you, but maybe this shit will work. Maybe I’ll finally be able to get over you.
I love you, Magnolia Barton. I’m honestly not sure I’ll ever be able to stop. I just wish I’d been man enough to admit it, to tell you myself that you’re not just my best friend—you’re the woman of my dreams.
Maybe in another life, I’ll get a do-over, and I’ll do everything I can to be enough, to be worthy of you. I won’t be gutless and let a day go by without telling you how I feel. I won’t be the bastard wishing he had the fucking nerve to ask you to go against everything expected of you and do one thing: choose me.
Go have beautiful babies with blond hair and blue eyes and gorgeous smiles that take people’s breath away, just like yours. Make sure they have a treehouse that’s their haven, they find a favorite Shakespeare sonnet, and they experience the joy of Pop Rocks.
Most of all, be happy, Shortcake.
Love,
Hollis
(Yes, like that.)
Magnolia
Jitters. They’re normal…or so I’m told countless times by my mother. She picks up on my agitation when she arrives with the wedding planner in tow to escort me from my room to the backyard.
After scolding me and demanding I get my emotions under control so the photographs won’t be a “godawful mess”, Mother finally stops fussing, so I suppose I’ve managed to stifle my nerves enough to her satisfaction.
Nervous agitation has given way to a dazed detachment from my surroundings and it clings to me, adhering like moss to a tree, while my mind attempts to process everything.
With a warm smile, Roy waits for me to approach. He loops my arm through his and when the violin quartet begins playing the wedding march, he guides me toward the rear aisle. Everyone’s attention turns to us. My eyes immediately search for him in a near frantic and needy way.
Hollis.
As soon as I find him in the very back, leaning against one of the posts of the pergola, my spine relaxes a fraction. It’s bittersweet to have him here. Sweet because out of everyone else, aside from my grandpa Joe, Hollis has always grounded me. He’s made me feel safe and accepted.
The bitter comes from the reali
zation that our friendship will be forever altered after today. With Grant as my husband, I expected Hollis would eventually fade from my life. It’s just his way. He’s always been a gentleman, wanting to do the right thing. But after his letter—a letter he never intended for me to read—there won’t be anything close to a fade.
Hollis plans to disappear from my life forever.
Roy and I draw to a stop, and he and Grant shake hands. My stepfather presses a light kiss to my cheek before finding his seat beside my mother in the front row. I hand my bouquet to Stephanie before I turn and place my hands in Grant’s. His palms are warm and comforting. Familiar.
I know Grant loves me. Even if I’m not the ultimate love of his life, we still have a solid relationship.
But is it enough?
Grant said it was okay to call off the wedding, but could I really follow through?
Could I do that to him? What kind of woman does that? And to a good man, no less?
I draw in a breath in a desperate attempt to calm myself, to quiet my racing mind.
This is it. My wedding day. Aside from the increased number of guests Mother invited, this day is nearly what I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. A backyard wedding. My grandfather officiating. The man who loves me ready to pledge his life to me in front of these guests.
Grant’s blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he gazes at me, a tender smile playing at his lips.
“We are gathered here today…”
While Grandpa Joe begins the ceremony, I lose myself in the eyes of the man who’s been by my side for most of my adult life.
The man who will love me forever.
The man who will support me in anything I do.
Yet one thing lingers.
Edging its way into my mind is the awareness that the cherry flavor has faded from my taste buds.
And it serves to signify that I’m losing something far bigger than the flavor of the Pop Rocks candy Hollis left in my room.
Hollis
At barely ten past three in the afternoon, the diner holds only a few customers. I tug open the door, noting the Seat Yourself sign, and find that I’m a glutton for punishment.
Because I slide into the booth. Our booth.
“One last time,” I mutter the promise under my breath.
A young waitress I don’t recognize comes by, and I only order a coffee. Once she delivers it, I discreetly pour in some of the whiskey from my flask and recap it, stashing it back in my inner pocket.
I stare into the black brew, and my goddamn chest feels hollow. How the hell is my heart still beating?
This is it, I think. Once I finish my final cup of coffee, I’ll say goodbye to this place forever.
There’s nothing left for me here.
Magnolia
“…join these two in holy matrimony…”
“…two souls become one…”
As Grandpa Joe continues with the opening of our ceremony, his deep voice fades into the background while I gaze up at Grant. His hands hold mine, offering what they always do.
Comfort.
Security.
Love.
Affection.
But is it enough? Especially now, when I know there’s a chance I could have more. That I could have the love of a man who’s always had a hold on my heart.
My focus drifts over the backyard to the spot where Hollis had stood against one of the pergola posts.
The wooden post stands alone. The man who’d been there only moments ago is now gone. His absence ricochets within me before the loss settles, embedding itself deep. It serves to finally shake me from my stupor, as realization and resounding shame simultaneously engulf me.
You need to stop worryin’ about everyone else. Grant’s earlier words echo in my brain, serving as a much needed reinforcement.
I can’t deny that I’ve never truly stood up for myself before—not in the full capacity of any kind. I’ve never been brave enough to speak up about what I want from my life.
Though I’m adult now, I reckon I’ve never really outgrown feeling like that little girl whose gap between her front teeth displeased and embarrassed her own mother. The girl whose hair wasn’t perfect or even the desired shade of blonde, and who never managed to be ladylike or refined enough. The one who wasn’t friends with the “right” people.
It’s been practically drilled into my brain that I need to be exactly what my mother and Roy expect of me, even at the expense of my own happiness. My life has consisted of me desperately trying to gain their approval and acceptance—ultimately, their form of love.
And I’m not sure I ever fully succeeded in gaining it.
I turn back to Grant, and the shift is subtle. His eyes change to brown, his hair darkens and is a little longer on top, the sides cut shorter. A dark beard covers his face, one I imagine will rasp against my skin in the most delicious way. Tattoos peek out, flowing from beneath the cuffs at his wrists, and I itch to trace each curve and swoop of ink lovingly. And those familiar lips curve up at the corners in a smile meant solely for me.
He’d whisper, “Love you, Shortcake,” so softly that only I could hear him.
I’d whisper back, “Like that.” Then we’d smile at each other throughout the ceremony, unable to look away in fear that it was all a dream. A fantasy. The most perfect vision of our future.
My eyes fall closed as emotions batter away at me, piercing my heart, and when I open them, Grant’s blue eyes watch me carefully.
Knowingly.
Tears gather in my eyes, and he dips his head in the faintest nod. His hands give mine a gentle squeeze.
I turn to my grandfather. “Excuse me.”
Grandpa Joe’s eyes meet mine and he doesn’t say a word for a moment. His focus briefly darts past me before settling on Grant and something passes between the two men. My grandfather lowers his Bible, setting it on the small podium, while one hand drops to his side. He holds out an upturned palm to me.
I place my hand in his, and he raises it to press a soft kiss on the back. His eyes never leave mine as he brings his other hand up to tuck his car keys in my palm. “Go get ’em, Shortcake.”
Grandpa Joe’s voice is loud and clear as he announces, “Thank y’all for attendin’, but there’s been a slight change in plans.”
I offer a bright smile as I face everyone, feeling lighter than I have in a while. “If y’all stick around, I plan to bring back a special guest. Then the celebration’ll truly begin.”
Please, let Hollis be where I think he is. Please, I plead internally.
I wrap my arms around Grant and give him a quick hug. “Thank you,” I whisper before backing away.
I barely make it two steps before my mother darts up from her seat, blocking me.
“Young lady, you get back there and—”
“No, ma’am.” My tone is firm.
Roy darts up from his seat, glancing around anxiously, likely concerned for how this all might look to others.
I clench my hands tight while straightening my shoulders in an attempt to fortify my courage. “With all due respect, I’ve let you manage my life for far too long. It’s time for me to start livin’ it and findin’ my happiness.”
Mother leans in, her upper lip curling in a sneer. “You will—”
“If y’all don’t plan to bear witness to a true love match when my granddaughter returns, then you’d best be on your merry way,” Grandpa Joe’s voice booms loudly. His stern expression is fixed on my mother, and her mouth parts in shock. It’s probably due to the fact that no one normally challenges her.
I take advantage of her speechless state and sidestep her. Down the aisle I go, avoiding most everyone’s gazes until I lock eyes with Stephanie. Her wide grin and thumbs-up bolster my confidence.
I rush through the yard as fast as my heels can carry me and practically dive into Grandpa Joe’s car.
Starting the engine, I drive like a bat out of hell, praying my instincts are right. A lungful of breath exp
els from my lips when I see the truck parked in the diner’s lot.
I pull into a space, park, and hike up my dress to retrieve what I’d folded and tucked beneath the snug blue garter belt.
My something old.
Hollis’ letter.
Hollis
God knows how long I sit, how many refills the waitress pours me, until I finally register the sensation of someone staring at me.
I tense because the last thing I want or need is to chat with someone about Magnolia’s wedding. But when I turn my head, no one inside the diner is paying me any mind. Yet that eerie feeling lingers. Finally, I turn toward the window.
The sight I’m faced with robs me of all ability to breathe, let alone form words. Shock reverberates through me to the marrow of my bones. I force myself to blink, sure that it’s a figment of my imagination.
Magnolia stands on the other side of the window in her wedding dress. Her features are etched with nervousness, and I skim the length of her, worried that she’s hurt or something has happened to her grandpa.
Then I notice what she’s holding.
“Fuck.” The hushed expletive spills from my lips at the sight of the letter I wrote her.
She steps closer to the window, her eyes never leaving mine. Then, with what seems like aching slowness, she raises her left hand, fingers splayed wide.
No rings in sight.
As if in a daze, I rise from the booth and quickly toss down cash to cover my coffee and tip before striding outside to where she stands.
I stop about a foot away while my unease and fear of giving in to hope war within me. The slight breeze picks up the hem of her dress, causing it to billow in a ripple at her ankles.
“What’re you doin’ here?”
“I wanted to talk to my best friend.” She holds up the letter. “The one who wrote this.”
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