by Dani McLean
“Jackson. I said no.” I went to protest, and he cut me off with a gesture. “It’s not your decision when we stop working. We’ll do that when we’re good and ready. And you can forget the idea that you owe us anything. Yes, we worked hard to keep a roof over our heads and to help you when you first started out in LA, but we’re your parents. That’s what we do. The whole point was to make sure you and your sister could plan for your futures. Your own families.”
It was clear that there was no room for further discussion, and I accepted it only because I had half expected it before I’d said anything. Dad’s convictions were the foundations on which I’d built my own, so I couldn’t blame him for not taking my money.
Still, I had hoped. There were always other ways. Christmas. Birthdays. Mom.
I’d work it out.
Now that he’d closed the door on my offer, Dad changed tact. “You know, I was hoping the reason you’d come over, beyond wanting to see us, of course, was to talk about your plans with Audrey.”
Resigned, I sank back into the chair. “That would be difficult. We’ve, uh, split up.”
The only response he provided was an astute raised brow, which he always employed when he was disappointed and wanted you to explain yourself.
He would have made a great actor.
“It’s probably for the best. My job comes with certain expectations that aren’t exactly fair on whoever I date. Audrey …” How did I want to put this? “She’ll be better off with someone whose life isn’t complicated with press and publicity.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No. But that doesn’t stop it from frustrating me. I love Audrey, and I absolutely want,” I hesitated, “wanted. A future with her. But …”
It was hard to discern my thoughts from those that Audrey had raised. How had she so succinctly put it? You don’t know what a real relationship is.
She, unfortunately, had a point. “The timing wasn’t right. Just because I wanted it to work doesn’t mean I’m in the position to give her what she needs.”
“Jackson, dear, where on earth did you get a ridiculous idea like that from?” Mom had materialized in the doorway and wore a look of disbelief. “While it’s certainly very noble that you’re worried about providing for her, it’s very selfish.”
They weren’t to know that Audrey had made that choice herself by walking away. “I didn’t mean—”
Dad cut in. “You don’t think I did all that on my own, did you? Your mother worked just as hard, no, harder, to provide for you and Sarah.”
“It was an equal effort,” she said with a kiss to his temple. Then she returned her attention to me. “It can’t be one person shouldering it. It’s a partnership.”
“And if she doesn’t want to be with me?”
Mom’s tone was tender and caring. “Love is hard. And when you’ve met the right person, it doesn’t always fall into place. It hasn’t always been flowers and rainbows with your dad and me. There were times, in the beginning especially, when I didn’t know if we’d last. But we worked through it. Together.”
34
Audrey
“This is nice. It’s been a while since we had a girl’s night. I was starting to forget what you looked like.”
I know Tiff didn’t mean it as a slight, but I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty anyway. Outside of our Saturday mornings and text conversations, we hadn’t spent much time together in the last few weeks.
Just another aspect of my life I’d been neglecting.
“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear.”
Her look shifted from joking to concerned. “Hey, I was joking. Everything ok?”
“Sometimes, I hate that you know me so well.”
“Is it wine bad or ice cream bad?”
“It’s not anything bad. I’m just … missing Jackson and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.”
“Ok, well, from the sounds of that, I definitely need some form of chocolate. Come on. I’ll bake while you talk.”
Somewhere in the time that I’d known her, Tiff had decided the best way to hash out a problem was by baking. Her wizardry over recipes extended across all mediums, it seemed. While I, on the other hand, decided I could learn a handful of dinners to whip up on short notice, leaving the fancy stuff up to the five or so decent takeout places near my apartment.
Tiff’s kitchen was hardly more than a single long counter, but she made the most of it. She patted the only spot on the bench where overhead cupboards hadn’t been installed. “Sit. Talk.”
I popped up onto the counter and watched while she dug out bowls, spoons, and a variety of ingredients, throwing them together with practiced ease. She measured nothing, which gave me mild anxiety, but had never been an issue for her. I sat silently, her calm movements relaxing me.
It had been almost a week since Jackson and I had broken up, and I still felt the gaping hole left by him. The congealed mass of my regret had settled in my gut, sneaking its grip through my insides and squeezing my lungs.
“Ok,” Tiff said when the silence had dragged on long enough. “I’ll start. He’s a jerk, and we hate him.”
I shot her a look. “We don’t hate him. We hate me for hurting him. And we hate you for introducing us.” I was only half-joking.
Immediately, she pointed the wooden spoon at me. “Hey! You’re about to pull off an incredibly successful launch of a delicious new spirit, and I’m fresh off my fourth consecutive win as bartender of the year.” I half-heartedly rolled my eyes, but she continued, “So you can stop that pity party right now.”
There was a loose thread along the seam of my jeans, and I pulled at it, lazily curling it around my finger. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. It wasn’t that long ago you were convincing me to stop dating and start looking for something casual.”
Tiff looked regretful. “Don’t remind me.”
“No, that wasn’t—I just meant that everything happened so fast, I’m only just processing it all now.”
It was just meant to be a fun little fling. An escape.
How had he so completely weaved his way into my every thought?
“Before Jackson, my biggest issues were the latest shipping error, arguing with that cocky shit from Liquor Kings about stock orders, and price gauging. Now, I can’t stop thinking about him. Wondering what he’s doing. Wanting to see him, hear his voice.”
“You love him.” She said it so matter-of-factly. With the same conviction Jackson had the other night.
I thought about everything that Jackson had done for me without asking for something in return. Even when I was holding back, he was patient, giving me space or time or a distraction. Even on our first night together, when we were little more than strangers, he had made sure I was comfortable every step of the way, always checking I was ok before he kissed me, touched me.
“I do.”
There was no denying it. My biggest regret was not telling Jackson when I’d had the chance. Now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to.
The now familiar ache spread through my chest, the weight of my attachment making itself a home within me. He had burrowed his way into my heart, and honestly, I wanted him there.
“Then why break up?”
“Because I’m an idiot, remember?” At her unimpressed look, I recanted. “You saw me that day. I was a mess. We talked about the interview, and then he said he loved me, and I just. Freaked out. Stopped listening. I got defensive and said some really stupid things just to hurt him.”
“Call him. I’m sure he feels the same way.”
I watched as Tiff filled a half dozen muffin trays with the gloriously chocolatey batter. “What if he doesn’t? I want to apologize, but I’m not sure he’d even want to hear from me again.”
Which was the hardest part. Because as much as I loved Tiff, she wasn’t the person I most wanted to talk to about this. The only person I wanted to talk to, the one person whose opinion I wanted on all this, was him.
She popped the tray into the oven and leaned her hip on the counter. “Then you move on.”
This was a card Tiff usually played with her clients. Played devil’s advocate to see what side of the fence you fell on. She said it was the best way to uncover your innate desires. And it worked.
The very idea of moving on caused my heart to cry out like a petulant child throwing a tantrum in a grocery store aisle.
I didn’t want to move on.
I wanted to be with him.
Damnit.
Why did he have to go and be all funny and charming and utterly frustrating to the point where he had buried himself in my heart and found a home there?
Why did I have to be so utterly pigheaded not to see what was important?
The problem from the beginning was that I’d been trying to avoid all this nasty feelings business.
It had felt like the safest option at the time. An arrangement, built purely on sex, that wouldn’t—couldn’t—hurt me.
And then along came this amazing, caring man to ruin it all.
Except he hadn’t been the one to ruin it.
While we’d been together, I never told him what I was feeling, that I was scared and fragile and why. I had just pretended I was ok, that I could deal with this on my own, and I thought I’d just figure it out in time.
I couldn’t forget the look on Jackson’s face when he said those three little words and I didn’t say them back. God, I was such an asshole. If only I’d told him sooner, maybe I could have saved us both some heartache.
But I’d been selfish. And now I was miserable.
The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt him.
I needed to apologize.
I’d lost count tonight of the number of times I’d almost texted him, but I couldn’t bring myself to say those words via text when he deserved to hear them in person.
It probably would have been easier if I could get angry about it.
I wanted to. I wanted to hate Jackson for wanting more. I wanted to hate myself for getting into this stupid arrangement in the first place. I wanted to hate Brad for ruining love for me.
But I couldn’t.
Because I’d loved what we’d had.
I missed him, goddammit. I missed his friendly, joking texts during the day. The sparkle in his eye when he was teasing me. His strong hands and solid, reassuring presence against me while we slept.
Tiffany draped an arm over my shoulders and rested her head against mine. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened to escape. “Me, too.”
“Will you be mad if I confess something?”
“Probably not, even if I want to be.”
“I thought you were good together. I know I never saw you at the beginning with Brad, but I saw enough, and I’ve never seen you so happy than when you were with Jackson. I really hoped it would work out for you two.”
I went to reassure her, and she looked pained. “What’s wrong?”
“You should be angry at me. I introduced you. I pushed you together.”
“I’m not angry at you,” I groaned. “I’m angry at me. I wasn’t ready.”
“You are ready.”
“Tiff—”
“No. You don’t think you are, but that’s just because you’re scared. Love isn’t supposed to be easy, Auds, and I know I don’t really know what I’m talking about because the longest relationship I’ve had lasted three weeks, but I don’t want you to miss out on something wonderful because you feel like you don’t deserve it or some bullshit like that.” She pulled back and spoke with more vulnerability than I had heard from her before. “It’s a leap of faith, Audrey. One I’ve always thought you were so brave for taking with Brad, Don’t let one bad experience stop you from leaping again. Not when you want to so badly.”
I wasn’t quick enough to stop the tears from falling.
“What you want, Audrey?” She asked.
The million-dollar fucking question.
I loved my job. I was damn good at it, too. I wanted the launch to go well. But if I were honest, I wanted what David had—that balance between work and achievement and love. I wanted someone to come home to who would celebrate my wins and support me through the losses.
I wanted to hire a team to take over the day-to-day work so that I could focus more on the planning and event side. I wanted to start canvassing for new brands again; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had the time to research and travel. I wanted to talk to Tiff about establishing a series of annual events that could serve as a platform for marketing new bars, new spirits, and the talents of upcoming bartenders. And I wanted Jackson by my side as I did it.
I wanted to spend Sundays having brunch with Jackson and Sarah and travel out to have dinner with his parents. I wanted to be standing by his side when he got the accolades he deserved, spend lazy mornings in bed reading through scripts with him, and wake up enveloped in his arms.
Damnit, I loved him. More than I could even fathom and definitely more than I could put into words right now.
And I walked away.
But had I messed it up completely?
“I want him. I love him. I wish I could tell him that. I wish I had told him that.”
“Then make it right.”
“How? What do I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
I needed to see him. I needed to tell him how I felt.
I needed to get him back.
“I want to get him back. At the very least, I want to apologize and make sure he knows how I feel about him.”
“What do you have in mind? I’ll have you know; I’m very good at arranging coincidences.”
“I think we’re going to need help for this one,” I said, dialing the one person I hoped could help me.
35
Jackson
It had been a week since seeing my parents, and I wanted to reach out to Audrey, but I had no idea what to say. Everything I typed never felt like enough.
I wanted to salvage this. But I didn’t know how.
So I focused on work instead, getting to the set early for extra hours of training or just hanging around with the crew, and on one occasion, shadowing Naomi while she worked. Seeing how everything came together was fascinating, and I had started to think about asking Bryson what my chances were of directing an episode next season if we got picked up again.
On top of that, Addison Michaels had asked me to come to New York for the day to run screen tests with the rest of the film’s main cast.
The test went smoothly enough. It was always a bit nerve-wracking meeting people the first day, not to mention I’d fought hard for this role, and I still wasn’t convinced that Addison wouldn’t realize he’d made a mistake and change his mind. He’d been upfront that he was giving me a chance but that I hadn’t been his initial choice.
We’d run some lines but mostly spoke in a small group about the characters and themes. Addison, I was surprised to find, had a calm, insightful manner when talking to us actors. He was articulate and precise, even when he told you to change something he didn’t agree with, but he also genuinely listened to our opinions and would work it into the dynamic if he liked it.
All said and done, it was a great day, but I was happy to be on my way back home.
It was the first Sunday in years that Sarah and I didn’t have brunch together, so I called her as I waited at the airport for my flight back to Chicago.
It took me all of twenty minutes to bring Audrey into the conversation. I wanted to believe I was strong enough to have one moment where she wasn’t at the front of my mind, but who was I fooling. Ever since I met her, I found myself thinking of her at odd times of the day, then almost every day, until there wasn’t anything I did or anywhere I went that didn’t bring her to mind.
I’d had to stop myself that very morning from texting her a photo of a corgi that had been checking out of the hotel. With its owner, of c
ourse. The point being that the dog was wearing a raincoat, and the first person I wanted to tell was Audrey.
“And you haven’t spoken since that night? Is there a reason you haven’t talked? Or tried to sort things out?”
“What can I do? I put myself out there once, and she walked away. And what if there’s nothing I can do? We said some pretty raw things to each other.”
There was a pregnant pause before Sarah asked, “Would you take her back if she wanted to?”
“In a heartbeat. I still love her, you know? As much as it hurts, I want to run over there and just forget this happened. That probably sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth.”
“It’s not ridiculous, Jace. You can’t help how you feel.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry we missed our brunch this morning.”
“Actually, I have an idea. I just discovered this great little Italian place downtown. What time do you land? Do you think you could meet me there by seven? You owe me for all this free relationship advice I’m giving you.”
I chuckled and checked the time. “I think I can make that. Text me the name of it, and I’ll let you know if I’m running late.”
“Can do. And hey, I think everything is going to be alright.”
“Thanks, Sarah. See you tonight.”
Tht evening, I searched for Sarah as I entered the quaint and cozy restaurant. Traffic from the airport had made me an hour late getting home, but I’d texted Sarah, then threw my suitcase in the room and forgone a shower to make my way here, so it was only thirty minutes past when I’d agreed to meet her.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t give me too much grief for it.
She hadn’t texted me back after I let her know I was on my way, which wasn’t unusual, but something still felt off about it. Like I was walking into an ambush.
When I spotted the familiar soft waves and expressive eyes, I realize that’s exactly what this was. And I had just walked right into it.