Imperfect Love Story

by Rachael Brownell

  Chloe, her hair pulled high on her head in a ponytail, is walking right toward us. Her eyes focused on the ground, she’s oblivious to us sitting here, staring at her. Quickly shaking my head at Jones, we watch in awe as Chloe walks past us and up the steps.

  Once she’s safely inside the building, I let out the breath I was holding.

  “Dude, is she—”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “But—”

  “No, Jones. I can’t talk about this right now. I don’t know what to think.”

  “I get it man, but if I were you, I would chase her down. You’re losing your opportunity the longer you sit here. What if it’s yours?”

  “What if it’s not?” I counter, my blood boiling at the thought. “What if that’s why she left? She cheated on me and couldn’t face me to tell me the truth.”

  “Dude, you know there was no one else.”

  “Do I? Because last I checked, we were always careful. I still have a half-empty box of condoms in my nightstand.”

  The same box I’ve had since before I met Chloe. We only made love a few times, but I always made sure we were protected. Something like this, a baby, could destroy her life.

  Jones and I sit in silence for a few minutes before he stands. When I make no move to follow him, my eyes still glued to the doors Chloe disappeared behind, he nudges me in the shoulder.

  “I can’t yet. I need a minute,” I say.

  “Take all the time you need. I’m going to head back to the car if you need to talk.”

  Nodding, Jones disappears from my peripheral and I’m alone. Again. Alone with my thoughts. A million thoughts that I wish I could ignore.

  A baby? A baby that could be mine but probably isn’t. She would have told me. I would have been here for her, to help her in any way she needed. We could have gotten married. Not because of the baby, but because we loved each other. That was the plan anyway.

  To get married, have kids and grow old together.

  It seems she’s decided to do that without me. Jones didn’t say anything, but I’m sure he didn’t miss the glimmer of the diamond draped on her left hand in the sunlight. It wasn’t exactly a tiny rock.

  “Hey, man. She’s gone.”

  It’s been ten minutes since I felt her leave. I’m surprised Jones waited this long to come tell me.

  “Shocker,” I retort, looking into his eyes to make my point. “That seems to be her thing.”

  “Look, I think you two need to talk. It’s been five long years. If that’s not enough time for the two of you to act civil after all that’s happened—”

  “I don’t have anything to say to her.”

  “So you’re not looking for answers anymore? That’s it. She’s back and you’re giving up all the sudden. Sounds about right. Why risk getting hurt again?”

  “Don’t you have customers that need drinks or something?” Pretending to focus on the papers in front of me, next week’s liquor orders, I give him the brush off. The door slams behind him a few seconds later.

  Being born only two months apart, Jones and I have always been close. The only rift in our relationship has been Chloe. It’s not his fault, it’s mine. He tried to help, is still trying to help, but I refuse to let him. The truth is, I don’t want help, from anyone. Especially him.

  He knows too much about it. He was a part of it. He’s the only other person who knows what we saw that day. The car ride home was one long fight between us. He wanted me to talk about it and I made him promise never to bring her up again.

  He hasn’t.

  Not once.

  Her name hasn’t crossed either of our lips since that day. You would think I let her go, but I can’t even seem to convince myself of that lie. If I had, I would have tried to move on since then. Maybe dated women for longer than one night, if you can call that dating.

  Yet, here I am. Single. Focused on work. Keeping an expired, half-empty box of condoms in my nightstand as a constant reminder of what could have been. Of the woman that broke my heart and left me. For another man. For a better life than I could have given her.

  The same woman who was standing in my bar ten minutes ago, looking sexy as hell in a tight pair of jeans and cowboy boots. If I hadn’t fallen for her five years ago, the sight of her just now would have done it.

  I’m so fucked.

  9

  Memory Lane

  Sometimes I feel like a child still under her parents’ thumb. Still being controlled. Still scared to sneak back in the house after curfew.

  That was me last night.

  After leaving the Tavern, shaken by seeing Jones and certain that Wyatt had been behind me at one point, I walked around, reliving a part of my childhood. Memories, good and bad, rushed over me.

  My first kiss was behind the ice cream shop while my then-crush was on break from his summer job.

  He got fired a few days later when they caught him out back kissing another girl. He wasn’t on break that time.

  My first date was at the Raven Theater. We had to watch a PG-13 movie because my parents insisted on buying our tickets. Little did they know we snuck out of the Disney flick and into the Stephen King thriller playing across the hall. That movie scared the life out of me but was a great reason to hold Brian’s hand.

  He was a nice guy. It didn’t last more than a few dates, but we remained friends. It makes me wonder what he’s up to these days.

  When I left Fairview, I left everyone behind. Not just Wyatt. I left my family, my friends, and everyone I loved. The life I knew was no longer my reality. I was forced to make a new normal for myself. A normal that could only include Lola and Carmen.

  Sure, I could have started over like most college freshman. I could have made a bunch of new friends, reinvented myself over and over again, but none of that mattered to me. The only thing I was concerned with was the wellbeing of my daughter. Once she came, she was my world.

  So I made one friend. One person that could be my rock. One person who I told the truth to about my situation.

  Addy.

  Addison Larsen was number four. When my parents left me in Denver, alone in that huge apartment with no one to talk to, I swore to myself that I would tell one person, not to piss them off, although that gave the idea bonus points. I needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to me, and someone to hold me when I cried.

  Most importantly, I needed someone who I knew was on my side.

  Addy knocked on my door that first night. She brought pizza and beer as a way of welcoming me to the building. Me, being the emotional wreck I was quickly becoming, started to cry before she even introduced herself.

  Let’s just say I made a lasting first impression.

  Addy is older, and dare I say wiser, than me. Five years older to be exact. She had just moved into the building as well. New to Denver, she was looking for a friend but instead, she found herself sitting on the floor of my apartment, crying over her beer as I told her my life story.

  We’ve been practically inseparable since that first night. She was in the delivery room when I gave birth to Lola. Helps out anytime I need her and is the best friend a girl could ask for. Lola loves her as much as I do and calls her Aunt Addy.

  When I told her I was coming home for the first time, she offered to come with me. I entertained the idea for a few days before mustering the confidence to decline. She has big things going on at work and as much as I would enjoy her company, I didn’t want her to feel like she needed to babysit me.

  As the morning light breaks over the meadow, I reach for my cell phone and send her a text. She called me last night while I was wandering down memory lane and I sent her to voice mail, something I’ve only done one other time. I’m sure she’s worried.

  ME: You awake yet?

  Before I even have time to pull a clean tank top over my head, my phone vibrates on the bed.

  ADDY: Sure am. You ready to talk?

  ME: Call you in five.

  Lacing up my shoes
, I sprint down the front stairs and out the door before anyone knows I’m awake. I take off down the road at a steady pace. Once my breathing settles, I dial Addy’s number.

  “Hey,” she says, breathing heavily.

  Our morning routine. She hates running outside and I hate running on a treadmill. We compromise by talking while we run separately.

  “Hey. How are you?” I ask.

  “Fine. The real question is, how are you? You didn’t answer when I called last night.”

  If there was any question about whether or not I worried her, it was answered just now. Addy’s never been one to beat around the bush much.

  “Sorry, I was taking a walk down memory lane when you called.”

  “A good walk or the kind where you feel like someone is chasing you and you’re running for your life?”

  Only Addy would remind me that I’m still running from my past.

  “The good kind.”

  “That’s good. Any sign of you-know-who?”

  That’s a trick questions, but she doesn’t know that yet. “I have yet to spot him.”

  “But he’s around, isn’t he?”

  “I’m assuming. I ran into his cousin last night. I stopped at the Tavern for a drink, and he was working behind the bar.”

  “A man after my own heart,” Addy teases. “What did he have to say about him?”

  Addy knows I hate to talk about Wyatt. She also knows that I hate hearing his name. It still stings, deep down.

  “He didn’t offer up any info and I didn’t ask.”

  “You should have. At least you would know where to avoid this weekend. Plus, aren’t you the least bit curious? It’s been five years, Chloe. He may have moved away by now.”

  He’s here. I can feel him. I felt him last night. His eyes, burning into my back as Jones hugged me. There’s only one man that’s lit me on fire like that. Only one man that ever will.

  “Doubt it. With my luck, I’ll run into him with Lola. At least I won’t have to explain much when he looks at her.”

  “What are you talking about? She looks just like her mommy.”

  Right. Except the dark hair, the hazel eyes, and the strong jaw. Just like mommy dearest. If only I had a picture to show Addy, then she might understand what I’m talking about.

  “Well, if he is here, I’m sure he knows I’m in town now. Jones and him have always been close, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

  “That’s a good thing if you ask me. What did I tell you before you left, Chloe?”

  Not this again. The first two times she said it I listened, took her words to heart. The day before I left, she recited it again and I did my best to block her words. Now that I’m here, it’s the last thing I want to hear. My heart won’t like it.

  “I know, Addy.”

  “Say it,” she demands.

  “Why? It’s not like—”

  “Chloe Grace Warren. You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life. You face things head on and you’re going to face this head on too. Now, say it.” Did she just summon my mother? She sounded oddly like her.

  Damn her no-nonsense attitude.

  “If I still love him after all this time, he may still love me too. Because our love is a love that doesn’t fade away. It’s the forever kind of love and imperfection is what makes it perfect.”

  Leaving me with only her words, Addy says goodbye and hangs up on me. I come to a halt, my heart beating so wildly in my chest I need to pause. It’s time to a stop thinking about the chance that Wyatt may still be holding onto feelings for me after all this time.

  That would mean he stopped living, and the thought breaks my heart.

  My parents are waiting for me on the front porch when I return, arms crossed, scowls firmly in place, as I slowly make my way up the drive. I’m a hot mess, inside and out. My father mumbles for me to get cleaned up, quickly, as I pass them.

  It’s time for brunch with the Hanson’s. Ooh, goodie. I’m so excited to see my ex-boyfriend I may actually puke. If only that would get me out of the commitment my parents made for me.

  10

  Brunch

  “Chloe!” Blair Hansen exclaims as I approach their table.

  All three of them stood up when they first spotted my father. The respect they have for him is apparent, especially in the way Bob rushes to shake his hand.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hansen,” I reply, walking over to where she’s waiting with open arms. She pulls me in for a hug, the same kind she used to envelop me in when I first started dating her son.

  Speaking of the devil himself…

  “Chloe. You look well,” Josh says, his voice like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Thanks,” I reply without looking over at him.

  Rushing to take the seat farthest from Josh, he follows behind me, pulls out my chair, and once I’m seated, slides into the one next to me.

  “So, tell me, how have you been?” he asks, placing a cloth napkin in his lap.

  He’s being polite. Too polite. I’ve known Josh since before either of us hit puberty. He’s never cared for anyone but himself. His actions made that perfectly clear time and time again. He’s also not one for small talk.

  It’s funny. There are times when Addy reminds me of Josh because of that. She doesn’t feel the need to talk things to death. It’s all facts, straight to the point, and she never beats around the bush. Josh used to be the same way.

  He never would have asked how I was doing.

  Pulling my chair out for me, that’s never happened before, not even on our first date.

  As I chance a glance in my parent’s direction, I find four sets of eyes watching the two of us. Four sets of eyes that look more excited than they should for what I’m assuming will be an average brunch.

  This worries me on a whole new level than the other day.

  This isn’t just a setup, this is about playing matchmaker, no matter how much my mother wants to deny it. A “slight nudge,” my ass. My bet would be that they actually expect us to get together after this. And what? Get married? Have kids?

  Sorry to disappoint, but the memories I have of Josh ensure none of that will ever happen. In fact, if he so much as touches me, I don’t care where we are, I might start swinging.

  “Come in for a while,” Josh demands, not even an ounce of sweetness in his voice in an attempt to sound nice.

  Pulling my arm from his grip, I shake my head again. “My parents were expecting me home twenty minutes ago. I’m already in trouble.”

  “Exactly. Who cares if you’re twenty minutes or two hours late? Late is late. You’re going to be grounded and then we won’t get to see each other for a few weeks.”

  “If I make it home soon, maybe it’ll only be for a week. You know how they are.”

  “Overprotective if you ask me. I thought they liked me.”

  “They do, but I’m their only daughter and we’re still at the age where they question what we’re doing with our time. Plus, it’s late and I’m tired,” I lie.

  This is the third time this month he’s tried to get me to stay longer, later. It’s clear his parents aren’t home again. Judging by the look on his face, it’s also clear what he thinks will happen if I come inside.

  Apparently the first time I told him no wasn’t a strong enough sign that I wasn’t ready.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he begins, pulling me into his arms and kissing his way down my neck. “Come upstairs for half an hour and I promise to drive you straight home, come inside, and apologize to your parents for breaking curfew. Deal?”

  “No deal, Josh. I thought we talked about this already. I’m not ready.”

  “There are other things besides sex that can happen in thirty minutes.” His suggestion, accompanied by the wiggle of his eyebrows, sends a shiver up my spine. Not the good kind either.

  “I’m not ready for any of it, and I wish you would stop pressuring me about it. We’ve only been dating two months. I’m sorry, but that’s not long eno
ugh for me.”

  Dropping his arms, Josh lets out a huff of frustration and starts walking toward his truck with purpose. I follow, hoping he finally heard what I was trying to tell him. My words couldn’t have been any clearer, yet he seems to ignore them most of the time.

  Pulling over less than a mile from my house, Josh throws his truck in park and turns to face me. He hasn’t said a word to me since I turned him down, and I can’t imagine that whatever is on the tip of his tongue is going to be something I want to hear.

  “Look, Chloe. You may not know we’re meant to be together, but I do. I need you to believe that because I have needs. Needs that only you can fill. You may not think you’re ready yet, but you are. I see the way you respond to my touch, to the way I kiss your neck. These are signs. Your body wants more, and so do you, so I’m not sure why you keep telling me no.”

  Yep, not something I wanted to hear, and as the minutes slowly tick by, all I can focus on is being grounded. At this point, I hope they give me a long sentence so I can avoid having this same conversation with him next week. How many ways, how many times, do I have to say it before he actually hears it?

  “I get that you have needs and so do I, but I’m just not ready. I don’t know what to tell you. Yes, my body enjoys it when you kiss my neck, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to let go of my virginity because you make my heart race. It just doesn’t feel like the right time. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

  “When will it be the right time then? Four months? A year? How long are you planning on making me wait, Chloe?” His frustration is evident as the rise in his voice causes me to shrink back against the door.

  “I don’t know, but when the moment’s right, I will.”

  Looking out the window, I successfully end our conversation. It won’t be the last time we have it because I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. Josh is a great guy, most of the time, but if he were the one, I would know it. The fact that I know he’s not tells me more than I want to hear.