* * *
I hire movers, and as promised, I email Declan to let him know the time and date. I’m hopeful he’ll reach out to talk, but all I get is a thumbs-up in response. Unwilling to put myself through any more unnecessary heartbreak, I get London to supervise the removal of the rest of my things from the condo, most of which goes into storage. I don’t ask about Declan and she doesn’t offer up any information, but she hasn’t fired Declan when it comes to our financial portfolio, which says a lot.
I throw myself back into work and physical therapy, and piece by piece, I put together the site for London’s Etsy store, asking her to make an extra centerpiece for every event and squirreling them away in one of the storage rooms I know she never goes in. I also put the opportunity to work with Sam on hold, which thankfully he understands. Even if Declan and I can’t be fixed, I’m not sure it’s worth it. London and Harley back me, telling me whatever I think is best. I’m not sure it’s best for Spark House, but right now it’s best for me to let things settle before I make any decisions.
Since Declan and I split up, I’ve messaged the guys, but I haven’t seen them. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I have my sisters, and Declan needs their support now more than ever.
At three weeks post-breakup and move out, I finally cave and take Jerome up on an offer for a beer and wings night at his place, without Declan. He pulls me into a tight hug the second he opens the door. “We missed you, Ave. It hasn’t been the same without you.”
“I missed you guys too.” I struggle not to give in to the emotion and go with a joke, instead. “It feels a lot like we’re in a custody battle over the kids. Thank God we never gave in and got that dog Declan was always talking about.”
“Yeah, well, I think Deck might seriously be considering the dog,” Jerome mutters.
I follow him down the hall and into the living room, where Mark is setting up the coffee table with a huge spread of super unhealthy food.
As soon as he sees me, he abandons the bowl of chips to envelop me in a hug. This time I’m unsuccessful at keeping my emotions in check and end up in tears. I miss my friends, I miss hanging out, I miss the connection, and most of all, I miss Declan.
“How are you? Have you lost weight? Here, take a plate and load up.” Mark motions to the snacks spread across the coffee table, all of them my favorites.
In the past few weeks I have most definitely lost weight, not a ton, but enough that it’s noticeable. I’m starting to get my appetite back, but heartbreak takes its toll on me—mind, body, and heart. And Declan’s silence eats at me. I want to know how he’s doing. I want to force him to talk to me so I can tell him how important he is to me. That we’re worth the fight.
“How are you guys? Tell me everything that’s been going on. I want all the details.” I sit back and listen as Mark relays another one of his terrible online dating stories. It’s nice to hang out with them again, but there’s a hole in the group now, one I created when I pushed Declan outside the boundaries of our friendship.
“We miss you at game night.” Mark gives me a small, sad smile. “It’s really not the same without you.”
“Snacks have gone downhill. Last week Declan burned everything because he forgot to set the timer on the oven when he put the appetizers in,” Jerome adds.
“Tell me he didn’t set off the fire alarm.” It’s happened before, and if we can’t get it to stop beeping fast enough, it triggers a call to the fire department and they end up evacuating the entire building. Winter in the middle of a snowstorm is not a great time to be standing outside in jammies and slippers.
“He managed to get it to stop before the alarm went off, but the smell was pretty rank. He said the couch still stinks like charred spring rolls.”
I laugh, but my voice cracks, and I ask the question I’ve been avoiding: “How is he?”
The guys exchange a look, and Mark says, “He’s pretty miserable, Ave.”
“We had to stage an intervention because all he was doing was drinking beer and eating shit food. We got it, he was in the moping phase and stuff, but the place was literally a maze of empty take-out boxes.” Jerome rolls his beer between his palms. “He knows he messed up, and not just because of the way he lost it on you, but with the whole thing, starting with picking up that random at the bar before you were supposed to go to that alumni meeting. He’s had feelings for you for a long time, longer than he wanted to admit to himself or to us, but we could all see it. Even back in college when you were with Sam. He’s trying to work through it. It’s a lot for him to figure out.”
“I wish he would reach out. He won’t even message me back.”
Jerome pushes his glasses up his nose. Usually he wears contacts, but not tonight. “He started seeing a therapist last week.”
“He did?” That’s a shocker. In the past, Declan blew off the idea of therapy as silly.
They nod in unison.
“Wow, that’s … great.” My heart clenches. Declan has always been good at keeping his feelings bottled up. He’s a master at hiding his hurt, at least until he can’t anymore. “How has that been going for him?”
“He doesn’t love it.” Jerome’s smile is wry.
I laugh. “I can imagine.”
“He knows he needs it, though, so he goes twice a week. He kind of lost his shit after you left. It was really a perfect storm for him. I guess the night he freaked out on you he got a call from his mother.”
“What kind of call?” Usually he calls her on birthdays and always sends her gifts, but conversations are generally strained. Most of the time he’d go to the condo gym right after a call and take out his frustration on a punching bag. Or he’d hit the club and find other ways to expend that energy.
“I guess his dad got caught cheating by wife number three? Four?” Jerome looks to me for confirmation.
“Number four.”
“Right, so I guess the wife went and posted all over social media, and Declan’s mom called to warn him. You know what that looks like.”
“She did what she always does and put him in the middle of it.” I rub my temple. “And then he saw the message from Sam and freaked out.”
“Yeah. He understands what happened, or didn’t actually happen. He knows he wasn’t rational, and he doesn’t want that to happen again, so he’s working through it.”
I flop back into the cushions and blow out a breath. I can see how wrong this went on both sides. “No wonder he lost it the way he did.” It was never just about Sam; it was everything, all his fears rolled together and laid out before him.
“He loves you, Ave, more than any of us realized, to be honest. He’s working on himself because he doesn’t want to repeat his parents’ history. Give him some time, he’ll come around.” Mark pulls me into a hug.
“Oh, and he left this here last week.” Jerome picks up a slightly tattered newspaper crossword from the side table. The downs are all finished, the across waiting to be completed.
27
ACROSS CROSSROADS
AVERY
That night when I get home, London is sitting in the living room watching DIY craft videos, likely for one of her centerpiece creations.
“How was your visit with the guys?” she asks as she snips away at some fabric.
“Good, but not the same as it is when Declan is there.”
She sets her scissors down and gives me her attention. “Have they heard from him?”
I drop down in the chair across from her. “Yeah, apparently he’s going to therapy.”
“Oh wow. That’s serious.”
“It is. He always brushed it off as pointless since he already knows his parents’ relationship is the reason he’s so messed up.”
London pours bright blue sand into the bottom of a glass fishbowl. “Can I say something without you getting upset?”
“Probably. Why? What is it?”
“I think he sort of had a right to be upset with you, regardless of his reasons.”
&n
bsp; I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up her hand to stop me from interrupting. “I’m not saying the way he dealt with it was right, or good, but he walked away from his friendship with Sam when things went sour with your relationship in college. He took your side. And then with one email, you drove over an hour to see Sam? That had to hurt, regardless.”
I take a moment to really think about what London is saying and realize that she has a point. “I think I knew he was going to be upset about it, and I thought it would be better to ask forgiveness than permission. It seemed like such a good opportunity for Spark House,” I say meekly.
“I get it, Avery. But you can’t always put Spark House before everything else.”
“I was trying to right a wrong. I think that was all I could see, not what it could do to my relationship with Declan.”
London’s expression is empathetic. “We Spark women are independent, but this was one scenario where it would have been better to talk it out first instead of asking for forgiveness later. Can you imagine how betrayed you would feel if the roles had been reversed?”
I don’t know how I’d feel if Declan suddenly decided he wanted to be friends with Sam again. Or to casually hang out with any of the women he’s previously been involved with. “How are we going to ever make this relationship work if he can’t trust me? He’s never even really had a girlfriend before, not a serious one.”
“No offense meant, Avery, but have you considered that maybe you’re not a relationship guru either? I’m not saying I am, or that I have the answers, because I don’t, but Sam was the only really serious relationship you’d been in. And since then, you haven’t put a lot of effort into trying to make another one work. Until Declan.”
She’s right. And now that I’m seeing things more clearly, I realize that I’m as much to blame as Declan. I should have told him, and maybe I should have realized that there was more to it than his feeling betrayed. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”
“Take responsibility for your actions, or your inactions in this case. Neither of you are right, but you’re also not wrong either. Relationships are about give and take, so give him something.”
“He left a crossword puzzle at Jerome’s place.”
“Um, okay?”
“We do them together every week. Or we did when we were living together. I took across and he did the downs. All the downs on this one were done and the across ones were empty.”
“Maybe he’s trying to reach out in the only way he knows how. Give him a hand to hold on to.” She pulls herself up from the floor and folds me into a hug. “You two have loved each other for so long, I can’t even begin to imagine how much it hurts to be separated like this.”
“It feels like half of my soul is missing.”
“Then get the other half back.”
* * *
The next morning I’m drinking my coffee, eating avocado toast, working on the crossword puzzle Declan left at Jerome’s. Whether or not he left it there intentionally, I’m unsure, but it makes me miss Declan and our comfortable, easy friendship.
When I get to thirty-six across, I grin. It has something to do with the financial sector and there’s a little smirky face drawn beside it, as if Declan knew I’d struggle with it. And that’s all the confirmation I need that he left it behind on purpose.
I take a picture with my finger beside the smirky face and message it to him with the question: “Six letter word beginning with F?”
“You ready to go, Ave? We need to be out the door in five.” Harley appears with her camera bag already slung over her shoulder and her to-go coffee cup that reads HELLO GORGEOUS. She has one for every day of the week, and she chooses them based on her mood.
“Yup. All set.” I leave the crossword on the table, put my dishes in the dishwasher, and scan the cupboards for a travel mug so I can bring another coffee to go—I only have one and Declan gave it to me two years ago for my birthday. It’s a Yeti, and there was no way I was going to leave it behind in the move. Although now it feels a lot more like another one of the threads that tie us together.
Instead of borrowing one of Harley’s many travel mugs, I use the Yeti for the first time since I moved out of the condo. On our way to Spark House my phone buzzes with a message.
Declan: You’re not even going to guess?
Avery: I figured the smirky face was your way of saying there’s no way I’d be able to get the answer, but if you prefer I struggle for a while that’s fine too.
The inchworm dots appear and disappear a couple of times before another message finally appears.
Declan: I miss you.
I stare at those three little words and feel them in my heart like a hug.
Declan: So ducking much.
A GIF appears with a guy shaking his fist and the words “Damn you, autocorrect.”
I chuckle and fire off another message.
Avery: Autocorrect is a jerk. I miss U2.
Avery: and by U2 I mean you also, not the band.
We’re pulling into the Spark House parking lot when the next message comes through.
Declan: Can I call you?
I wait until the car is parked before I tell Harley I need to take a call and message him back with “I’d love that.” Instead of heading for the hotel, I walk toward the obstacle course that’s been set up for the corporate team-building event we’re hosting later this week.
I answer on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Declan clears his throat. “How are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m really glad you called.” During the first week I left voicemails and messages for him, hoping he’d respond, but it hurt too much to see them unanswered every time I opened my phone, so I had to stop. At least until now. I sit on one of the rope swings designed to be walked across. There are six spread at two-foot intervals. “How are you?”
“Okay most days, not so okay other days. It’s good to hear your voice. I miss you so damn much.” He exhales a long, slow breath, as if he’s trying to get a handle on his emotions.
I’ve already lost that battle. Tears track down my cheeks and drop onto my pants, soaking into the black fabric. “I miss you too.” I hate the heavy silence, and the compulsion to try and fill it with jokes, anything to lessen the ache in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“Me too.” I lean my head against the rope and close my eyes, wishing I could reach out and touch him, knowing it’s a good thing I can’t.
“I know I messed up, Ave. A lot. Maybe more than you can forgive me for.”
“I should have talked to you first. Now that I’ve had time to really process it, I know what I did was wrong. I wasn’t thinking, not about how seeing Sam would affect you. Affect us. You put me before your friendship with him at every turn. I should have realized it would be a huge betrayal. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I know I overreacted.”
“I don’t know that you did, though. Not considering the history, and his ultimatum, and the fact that your mom had called with news about your dad. I’m sorry about that too. I feel awful. I wish I could have been there for you instead of giving you something else to be upset about.”
“I could have handled it a lot better than I did. I should have explained what happened with my parents and talked it out with you.”
“We both could have. And I want you to know that I’m going to tell Sam we can’t work with them. It’s not worth the pain it causes.”
“Don’t do that. Not because of the way I reacted. I don’t want you to give up the opportunity because I can’t get a handle on my jealousy. I don’t want to see you lose out on account of that. My jealousy is the reason you got hurt in the first place.”
“That kid in the white truck is the reason I got hurt. I had other options, and I made a choice that morning.”
“Because of me.”
“I’ve forgiven you for that. I think you need to do the same so you
can move forward.”
“You’re right. I know that. And I didn’t call for your forgiveness, although it means a lot.” He clears his throat again. “I’m working on becoming boyfriend-worthy. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, or if you’d even consider trying again with me by the time I get there, but I want you to know I’m under construction, and I’m hoping in the meantime I can also work on mending our friendship.”
“The guys told me you’re seeing a therapist.”
“Yeah, Jerome sort of convinced me I needed to talk to someone.”
“Funny, I remember someone else mentioning that.”
“I wasn’t ready to hear it then, but you moved out and well … I didn’t take it all that well.”
“I’m glad Jerome has excellent persuasive tactics.”
“Especially when he has you in a headlock and is threatening to kick your ass.”
I smile, because Jerome is tall and lanky and not the kind of guy to resort to bullying, except maybe for Declan’s benefit. “He left out that part.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, well, I would’ve deserved the ass-kicking, so I’m lucky he didn’t follow through, and he was right. I want to let you know that I called Sam.”
“Oh? And how did that go?” Sam never mentioned it to me, although we’ve only spoken once, and that was when I asked him for some time to figure things out.
“We had some words. He admitted he was a stupid asshole back when we were in college and deserved the black eye I gave him, and that he never should have asked me to choose between you and him in the first place. Then he told me I should get my head out of my ass and that he never would have reached out to you at all if he knew it was going to screw things up for us. He said you were on the fence about the camping partnership, but I told him he couldn’t back out, just to give me a little time. This was my issue and I’d done enough screwing things up when it came to you, and I didn’t want to screw anything else up.” He exhales a long breath.
When Sparks Fly Page 24