Clutching the paper to my chest, this crayon scribbled picture from a teenage girl has now become one of my most precious possessions.
I feel like I’m walking on clouds the rest of the day. Knowing that Bryan took Emmie where he was happy with me makes me even more hopeful. The day passes by in a blur and my stomach is in knots as I wait in the parking lot for Bryan to pick up Emmie. She’s running around in the small field to the side of the parking lot with a few of her friends and another counselor. I’m lost in my daydreams of the maybes that Bryan and I spoke about last night, so when Will sits down next to me, I’m momentarily startled.
“Hey, how was your weekend?” He sees me jump slightly and laughs.
“Good. It was great to see my mom.” I might be speaking to him, but I’m preoccupied with scanning the lot for Bryan’s car.
“And you got a car out of it too, huh? That’s a pretty sweet deal.” He grins at me as he points to my car parked next to his.
“Yeah, it was a total surprise. I love it though.”
Standing before me, he holds out his hand. “Come show me.” He doesn’t ask so I can’t really say no.
“I can’t. These kids are . . .”
Will waves over to Samantha, the other counselor and she waves back at us. “The kids are what? They’re fine. Samantha is out there. I want to see your new ride.” I give in, but stand on my own—without taking his hand.
When we’re over to my car, I stand by the driver’s door as he peers into the window. “Well, here it is. Not much to it. Four doors, a few tires and a steering wheel.” I think he can tell that I’m trying to avoid him. I’ve been doing it all day.
Without saying anything, he leans up against the car and smiles at me seductively. “So, about Friday. Are you free?” That was his ploy the whole time. He wasn’t really interested in my car. He just wanted to get me far enough away from the kids so that he could talk to me privately.
Nervousness sets in. Bryan should be here any minute and this is the last thing he needs to see—me pressed up against a car while Will is trying to get me to go out with him. “Look, Will. I like you, but only as a friend.”
“Okay, so we’ll go out as friends.” He’s not getting it. The truth is that if it wasn’t for Bryan, I would be more tempted to give in. Will’s attractive and funny. At only twenty-two years old, he’s still well within my acceptable dating age.
“Thanks, Will, but I’m still going to have to say no.” Without missing a beat, he reaches for the strand of hair that just fell from behind me ear. After he sweeps it back in place, he lightly traces his thumb down my cheekbone. “Are you sure about that?” he asks softly.
“I’m flattered, Will. Really, I am. I just can’t.” I pull his hand away from my face and he takes that opportunity to bring my knuckles to his lips.
Grazing over them lightly, he mumbles against my skin, “Can’t or won’t?” His eyes are pleading with me to give in.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Searching for some kind of strength, I huff out a frustrated sigh. “No, Will. I won’t. Thank you but really, we’re just friends.” Before I can even push his hand away from mine, I hear the gravel crunch under someone’s approaching footsteps.
“Just friends, huh?” Bryan’s angry voice quietly rumbles from behind Will’s back. Throwing his hands up in the air, Bryan mumbles, “Fuck this!” as he stalks away.
Running after him, I call out, “No! Wait, Bryan! Wait!” He turns on his heel so quickly that I nearly collide into his hard chest. “What, Melanie?” There’s pain in his eyes and I can see the fight leave his body as his shoulders sag.
“I can explain.” The lame words die in the air between us.
“There’s nothing to fucking explain. You’re apparently just friends with him too,” he seethes, but doesn’t yell as he recalls our talk from the night before. Scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair in restrained anger, he leans down so that only I can hear him. “Just when I thought I could trust you . . . when I thought I could possibly let you in again . . . you go and fuck me over . . . make me look like a fool. I- I’m done, Melanie. I just can’t . . .” There’s so much pain and anguish in his voice. The last of his words are muffled almost painfully as he walks away from me. He sounds as if he’s about to cry and part of me wishes that he would. I deserve his anger—his yelling and cursing. But instead, I get restrained anger and seething pain.
Standing there numbly and near tears, I watch as Emmie runs over to Bryan. He helps her get into the car and he pulls away from me.
But this time, I feel like it’s really for the last time.
Chapter 16
November 2013
It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve finally let go of the idea that Bryan and I will ever get back together. No matter how many times I tried to talk to him over the summer, whether it was calling him or waiting for him to get Emmie at camp, he always avoided me. He wasn’t rude or mean. Keeping up the appearance of being friends for Emmie’s sake, he was usually cordial. As nice as his attempts at civility might have been, I could always sense his anger and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface.
I was sad to see Emmie leave at the end of the summer. I cried as I hugged her goodbye because I would genuinely miss her, but also because I knew that when she walked out of my life, so would Bryan. He waited by his car on that final day, giving Emmie and I our space. She drew me another picture that day—one of her and me holding hands. There were tears in her eyes too as she pulled away from me and walked toward Bryan.
I wanted to run to him. I wanted to yell and scream and explain myself until I ran out of words to tell him, but the resolute nod that he directed at me across the parking lot was my cue that whatever maybes existed on that night that he kissed me, were dead and buried.
Absolutely refusing to go back to that dark place where I resided after Bryan and I broke up, and completely loathing the girl I was before that, I made a promise to myself to hold my head high. I waved at them as they pulled away and whispered “I love you,” to him even though he would never hear it.
I’d like to say that with everything else that happened over the end of the summer, I didn’t think about Bryan much, but I’d be lying. When Maddy and Reid’s baby was born, I cried more tears of joy than I thought possible. And when Evan moved into the house, it instantly felt like more of a home than it had ever been. Mom is the happiest I’ve ever known her to be and that makes me feel freer than ever.
Even now, as the cool fall air breezes through my open window, I feel at home. That’s what this place has become for me. What started out as a dusty and dirty place to live, quickly transformed into home filled with laughter and tons of happy memories. I know that when Cammie and Lia graduate at the end of the year I’ll be sad. More than sad actually.
But I also know that I’ll survive. Hey, maybe even Peyton will stay in Ithaca after her grad-program ends, but who knows. What I do know is that I’ve found happiness in the moments of quiet, and for the first time in my entire life, I am really and truly happy with who I am. I’ve made peace with my mistake and with the insecure girl I used to be. Those feelings of guilt and unworthiness have been replaced by ones of pride and love.
As I step out onto the front porch, I fix the Jack-o-Lantern that we carved the other night. It’s lumpy and bumpy, not perfectly round, so it never stays upright for long. Maybe that’s why I picked it. It reminded me of myself in some ways. Picking up a few stray candy wrappers from last night’s eager trick-or-treaters, I walk across the street to Bella’s and get ready for my Friday night shift.
Bella was right when she hired me. I haven’t run into Bryan once since starting here back in July. The thought saddens me more than a little. But it also reminds me that he’s moved on as well. I hope for his sake, and for Emmie’s too, that things have worked out with his mom. I imagine that the divorce is finalized and things are hopefully back to normal.
Whatever the hell “normal” means, anyway
s.
As I’m setting up the wait station, Laurie, the hostess, comes up and hands me a ticket for a table she just seated in my section. “He’s really cute too.” She winks before walking away. Cute, huh? Okay, I could go for some cute in my life. I haven’t had much of any cuteness since Will took me out on our one-and-only date. It was at the end of the summer after I knew Bryan and I were definitely done. I couldn’t help it. Will was sweet and persistent as hell. It was an okay night; I can’t deny that. But when he walked me to my door and gently pressed his lips up against mine, there was no spark, no desire, no rapid fluttering of butterflies in my belly.
Dismissing thoughts of how pathetic my love life has been since Bryan, I focus my attention back to the hottie who Laurie just seated at one of my tables. Knowing my luck, he’s probably with his girlfriend. The cute ones don’t come here with their grandmothers.
I peek out from behind the wall that separates the wait station from the dining room and when I see Bryan sitting at the table I was just assigned, I laugh inwardly at Laurie’s “cute” description. He’s not cute.
He’s freaking gorgeous.
And he’s with a girl—a girl who is most definitely not his grandmother.
From where I’m standing, or spying, depending on how you want to look at it, I can see them, but they can’t see me. Bryan’s wearing a pale blue, fitted, polo that pulls oh-so-nicely across his muscled chest. If he were standing up, I’d be able to comment on how fine his ass looks in the charcoal grey dress pants he’s wearing, but since he’s not, I’ll just have to use my imagination. His hair looks longer than usual, but it still has that styled-yet-unstyled look to it. My fingers twitch at the thought of running through the silky strands.
And of course the girl he’s with is gorgeous too. Petite with shiny brown hair that sways gently at her shoulders when she laughs, she looks like a model. When she brings her glass up to her plump red lips, I ghost the pad of my thumb over mine and try to recall what it felt like to have Bryan’s lips pressed there.
The feeling is fleeting though.
He hasn’t been mine for months, and watching the two of them share a laugh across the candle lit table, it’s clear that he’ll never be mine.
Deep breath. Head high. Big-girl panties on.
I step out into the dining room and immediately trip over the leg of a chair that hasn’t been pushed in all the way. Quickly recovering, I hope that no one has seen me, but of course I can’t be that lucky. When the “oh shit,” slips out of my mouth, Bryan looks up at me from his table. I wave shyly from behind his girlfriend and the most adorable and sexy grin splits his face.
I take that as my cue to approach them even though my heart is hammering in my chest at the thought of speaking to him again. Add in the minor complication that he’s on a freaking date and well, you can just imagine my current pulse rate.
Swallowing back my nervousness, and my pride for that matter, I stand before them. “Hi, Bryan. It’s so good to see you again.” Wow, that sounded cheesy even to my own ears.
“Hey, Melanie. Yeah, you too.” A spell of awkward silence falls in our little bubble as we just stare at each other for a moment. The silence is broken by a throat being cleared.
“Hi, I’m Abbey.” Of course she has a cute as a button southern drawl. I don’t want to be rude, well I do, but I won’t. Extending my hand to her, we shake politely.
“So how do you guys know each other?” She gestures her hand in between me and Bryan. Quickly gauging his inability to speak, I answer for him.
“We used to work together when he was at Ithaca.” She nods at my answer as Bryan busies himself with taking a sip of water. In desperate need to get away from the awkwardness, I pull out my notepad and pen. “So what can I get you tonight?”
They place their orders and I try my best to maintain the composure I thought I had. But, watching them talk and laugh with each other, wears on me. Every now and then, I catch Bryan looking over at the wait station, or his eyes track me as I serve the other tables. By the end of their meal, I feel trampled on. It’s one thing to feel like you’ve moved on, but to see the other person actually moving on right in front of you, well, it forces you to take a few steps back.
Their conversation draws on well past the “finished with dessert” portion of their date, so when I drop the check on their table, I let them know that there’s no rush before abruptly turning away. My words and my eyes do not conceal my pain though. It’s crazy how I thought I was doing well, how I thought I had moved on.
So much for that.
Collecting their bill, and rather generous tip, about twenty minutes later, I say “thank you” with as much politeness as I can muster. But the other table that has been busting my non-existent balls all night has frayed my nerves. Add that to my crushed-to-a-million pieces heart from Bryan’s table, and I’m just glad that I’m the first to be cut tonight. It’s slow anyway so it’s not like I’ll be losing out on that much money.
Sometime around ten, I step out into the autumn night. The air is cool and crisp, and if I had to walk further than just across the street, I would need much more than my thin white button up waitress shirt. Taking a few minutes to regain my composure, I lean against the back of the building and pinch the bridge of my nose. On a deep inhale and a shaky sigh, I push off of the beat-up wood siding and nearly scream when Bryan appears before me.
Out of pure instinct, I punch him lamely on the arm in self-defense. “Holy fucking shit! You scared the crap out of me.” I am practically panting as the fear recedes.
Feigning injury as he rubs the spot on his arm that I just punched, Bryan’s face contorts into a knot of faux pain. Calling his bluff, I smirk at him—once I realize it’s him—and laugh at his antics. “Oh, stop it. I barely even got you.”
“I don’t know. There might be some bruising,” he jokes as he lifts the short sleeve of his polo shirt up over his bicep. When I see the small, red welt that I’ve caused, I reach out to soothe it and then realize that touching his muscled and goose bump-covered flesh would not be a good idea.
So instead of doing what my fingers feel compelled to do, I shove my hands into my pockets and rock on my heels. “Sorry ‘bout that.” While both of us sober from our momentary burst of playfulness born from my inner scaredy-cat, Bella steps out of the back door with an over-stuffed bag of trash in tow.
“Here. Let me get that, Bella.” Always the gentleman, my swoon-radar goes into full swing. I doubt there will ever be a time when what Bryan says or does will not have an effect on me.
With a wink and a nod, Bella retreats into her restaurant while saying, “You two have a good night.”
But a “good night” is the last thing I’ll have. Bryan was here on a date. With snarky accusations resting on the tip of my tongue, I stare up into the night sky and try to gather as much strength from the beauty that I see there as possible.
Turns out that it isn’t much.
Before the silence can descend upon us, I step to the side and offer up a lame smile. “I should get going.” I point in the direction of my small, but cozy home.
When I’m no more than a step past him, I hear the gravel crush under his feet as he turns toward my retreating back. “Melanie.” My name sounds more like a question as it tumbles off his soft lips. When he adds, “please,” right after my name, I stop dead in my tracks.
Unable to ignore the pained tone of his words, I turn to face him. Still unable to look in his eyes, I keep mine glued to the rocks and pebbles beneath me.
They’re suddenly very interesting.
Bryan’s shiny black dress shoes inch into view. For each step that I take backward, he takes another one forward. My head is a scrambled mess, and after seeing him here with another girl tonight, I just don’t know if I can be in such close proximity with him again.
His long fingers grasp my wrist as he pulls me into his space. With his other hand, he tips my chin up so that our eyes meet.
As his thumb ge
ntly traces the line of my jaw, I want to lean into it. I want to inhale the woodsy, clean scent of his cologne, but I know if I do, I’ll melt into a puddle of nothingness at his feet.
He doesn’t say anything at first. We just stand there—gazes locked, skin aflame, hearts pounding. As Bryan leans in to kiss me, his lips are so close that I can smell the cinnamon on his breath. My stomach flops both out of desire and of disgust.
Drawing on every ounce of strength I have come to find in myself over the last few months, I force myself to take a step back. “Bryan, I can’t. I mean you were just . . . we shouldn’t.” I sound like I’m chewing on my tongue—the words just don’t come out as easily as I want them to.
Stepping toward me once more, he extends his hand to my face and cups my cheek. “It wasn’t a date, Melanie.” For the second time tonight, my world spins slightly off its axis.
“But you two were . . . it looked like . . . I don’t get it.” So much for inner strength—or eloquence for that matter.
Lacing his fingers together with mine, he brings my knuckles up to his soft lips. “I know what it looked like, but it wasn’t.” He brushes our joined fingers across his stubble-roughened jawline and leans into my them as they move across his skin.
“But, Bryan . . .” My breathless words are lost in the cool autumn air.
Pulling our hands from his face and back to his lips once more, he plants one last gentle kiss on the palm of my hand before releasing it all together. “There are no buts. It wasn’t a date. Abbey is a new student in my grad-school program. She wanted me to show her around, and when she saw Bella’s, she insisted that we eat here. I had no idea that you worked here, but I should have known better when Bella laughed and wagged an eyebrow at me when I walked in.”
He tucks a rebellious strand of hair that is blowing wildly in the breeze behind my ear and lets his fingers tangle in the hair at my nape for more than a quick beat. Angling my head up to his, he cups my cheek with his other hand and whispers, “I miss you,” when he’s less than a centimeter from my lips.
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