Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “I’d like to say something.”

  Kip stands and taps his glass with the teaspoon from his coffee. I put my hand over my face; my family don't appreciate grand gestures. Kip announcing his bonus to the whole family is not something that should be done.

  “I met Jenna at a charity dinner. She had a table of cupcakes in the grand hall, and I remember seeing this woman in a waitress outfit with platters of cakes for everyone to try. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as how Jenna looked that night. I think I fell in love with her cupcakes first, and then got to know the woman behind the apron, and it would be impossible not to fall in love with Jenna.” He looks at Deacon who is sitting back in his chair, with his impossibly strong arms folded across his chest, “We’re not here tonight to celebrate my bonus. We’re here to celebrate what I bought with my bonus.”

  “Jenna Bethan Nina Rivera,” Kip pulls a little aqua box out of his pocket, opens it to reveal a white gold ring with a little diamond in the middle, and drops to one knee. I’m going to be sick, “I want to marry the girl behind the apron. Marry me.”

  Shit.

  The room falls silent, the entire restaurant quietens, and time stops for me. I want to run. I want to be sick. I want to punch him in the face for embarrassing me. Where on earth has marriage come from?

  “You’re killing me here, Jen,” Kip whispers, angry.

  Why the hell is angry with me? I had no idea this was coming, and we are far from ready to get married.

  I look at Deacon, I can't help it. I need him to save me. But he’s angry too; his jaw is tense, he’s frowning and his fists are clenched under his arms. One corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk and anger explodes in my stomach. He thinks this is funny. A game is all I’ve ever been to him. I look back at Kip, knowing this is not the man I want to spend my life with, but whisper my answer.

  “Yes.”

  The restaurant erupts into cheers and Kip stands up, crushing his mouth to mine. The family are painfully quiet, but one by one stand up to congratulate us. I notice Deacon is gone.

  “Excuse me.”

  I step away from the table and out the restaurant.

  “Jen?” I stop when I hear my sister, “Why did you do that?”

  “It’s a step in life.” I mumble and keep my back to her.

  “That’s bullshit. You marry when you’re in love. You’re in love with the man whose heart you no doubt just broke.”

  “So I’m not supposed to get engaged?”

  “Not to Kip.”

  “Then go ask him!” I turn to face my sister, “Go and ask Deacon Reid if he can remember the moment he fell in love with me, whether he see us together in a monogamous relationship, committed to each other and only each other. Ask him if he wants to raise children with me, and watch our grandchildren play in the garden. Ask him if he wants to spend until the day he dies with me and then we’ll discuss my decision.”

  Chapter 23

  Deacon

  “Jenna Bethan Nina Rivera, I want to marry the girl behind the apron. Marry me.”

  Fuck.

  Kip’s eyes flicker to me from where he’s kneeling on the floor, and... Is he really smirking at me? He just gave a shit excuse for a marriage proposal in front of Jenna’s family and he thinks he’s got something to smirk about. I sit back in my chair and smile, what a prick. Jenna’s looking at me too; I can't work out what she’s pissed off about. Maybe I should have text her today, but I’ve been riding the high of last night and the last thing I wanted was to send any of the things I was thinking, when there was a risk of Kip seeing.

  I almost laugh thinking about watching that smug look on his face disappear when Jenna rejects him, and almost let myself fantasise about her telling the restaurant full of people what’s happened the last two weeks. I’d love to see the look on his face when he realises Jenna’s been cheating on him with her childhood best buddy.

  “Yes.”

  Jenna whispers her answer and if I wasn’t already sitting down I’d be on the floor. What the fuck? I’m not the only one shocked by her answer; our table is silent as Kip stands up and holds the ring out to put on Jenna’s finger. She takes it from him and holds it in a tight fist.

  I make my exit when everyone realises they have to actually congratulate them on their ridiculous relationship, and their equally ridiculous engagement. I manage to unfold my frame out of the chair without attracting any attention. I don't miss the words ‘I win’ directed at me, rolling silently off London-Boy’s lips. Bastard.

  The rain is still falling; the heavens opened this afternoon and haven’t graced us with an ounce of dry air since. I’m even more pissed off I went to the stupid dinner, now that I have to walk the long road to the harbour, and then along the harbour to get to my truck. The truck that still has Jenna’s naked image etched inside it. I walk past the car park, and walk along the wall to where everything got ruined. I sit on the wall and look out at the crashing waves in the distance, kicking myself for not just making Jenna mine the night we were here. She wouldn’t have objected; Jenna used to do anything I told her. And I wish, that night, I told her never to look at another man again, because she would always be mine. I should have told her that night what I envisioned my life to be like. She asked me, when we were sitting on the wall, what my life plan was. And like the stupid immature student I was, I lied. I had always imagined Jenna and I in each other’s lives; and I still wish she’d called me out when I lied. I didn’t want to go off travelling and open a business in London. I wanted to travel with Jenna and come back and build her a cake shop. Then eventually I would have helped Dad run the two offices, alternating between the two so I could treat Jenna to weekends in the capital, nights in fancy restaurants, and show her off to everyone I met. But I lied; I let her believe I used her, to save my own barely-adult feelings.

  And now she’s engaged, destined to be a baking house-wife and child bearer to a snotty stock broker. Jesus.

  I hear whimpers from back down the road and I know before I look that Jenna is alone and crying. What could she possibly have to cry about? Isn’t this supposed to be the happiest moment of a woman’s life? Maybe she’s realised how fucked up this is, because not only can she not just walk away from someone who clearly doesn’t know the girl behind the apron, as Kip so pathetically put it. But the fact she’s just agreed to marry him, yet here she is crying on a wall, like her world is falling apart, leaves a horrible taste at the back of my mouth.

  I climb off the wall, cross the road and walk back to the car park. I don't talk to her, don't comfort her. I can't.

  I skip my run Monday morning; I think I’m still drunk from last night, and if I’m transitioning into hang over, the last thing I want to see is the newly-engaged running along the beach hand-in-hand. I force myself off the sofa where I passed out last night and go to the kitchen for coffee and toast. I have to go into Foster this morning, and have to sort my head out before I drive my car. I take my coffee to the lounge and put the football highlights on, trying to block out last night. The tightening in my chest at the thought of losing Jenna forever has dulled somewhere in the back of my mind, but I just can't switch it off. After everything that’s happened the last two weeks; after everything that happened Friday night, she decides it’s the right time to get engaged. I don't get it.

  ~

  “Another refurb, Jack?”

  I’m sitting in Jack’s, officially hung over to hell after drinking away whatever I felt last night, in my kitchen, in the dark. Like you see in movies. It’s working now though, after my coffee and carb breakfast. I feel numb, I feel nothing but the pounding in my head; it’s exactly what I was going for.

  “Yeah, the wife wants a back extension. I think she wants another kid.” He answers, pouring sugar in his coffee, and there it is. The reminder that my life is in the shitter. I wonder if I’ll be contracted to create a nursery for Jenna’s kids.

  “Jack, I need to go. You want the job done, no problem. But I’ve got t
o go.”

  I pick up the keys for the 4x4 and walk out, leaving him speechless. The 4x4 was perfect this morning, no member of the fucked up opposite sex has been in it, and it meant the numbness wasn’t challenged by the other feelings festering somewhere not too far under the surface.

  I’m on my way back to the tourist car park down the road when the icy fire and cold heat surge through my body. She’s struggling with shopping bags across the street, Mrs. London-Boy-to-be. Why is she carrying so many bags on her own? I realise I’ve stopped walking towards my car, and I’m waiting at the kerb to cross the road. A space clears and I run across, catching up with Jenna easily. I realise as I walk unnoticed a few steps behind her that it doesn’t matter. I’m more pissed off than I’ve ever been with a woman, but I don't want a thing to change. I don't want to stop seeing her and don't want what she does to me to stop. This is so confusing; my head throbs with tension and now I’m pissed off with myself because I should walk away. Maybe she’s hoping I will but I can't. I can't switch off what I feel for Jenna – it’s the only thing I’ve felt for years. And deep down I don't believe she wants to marry Kip.

  “No fiancé?” I ask, walking behind her, enjoying the view but hating that it’s not mine to enjoy.

  “Fuck off.”

  I laugh, and I know I’m being an arsehole but I can't help it. I also step next to her and grab a handful of bags, noticing her stand up straight and wiggle her fingers.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “What does it look like, Deacon?”

  “Let’s try another question you’ll no doubt answer with a question or tell me to fuck off. Why exactly are you telling me to fuck off?”

  “You’ve come to have a go at me, and I’m not listening to it.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly it.” I grab her arm and turn her round so we’re walking back in the direction of my car, “I followed you out here to watch you struggle with shopping you could have got in the town you live in.”

  She’s sighs, and walks slowly next to me. I look at her as we walk, but she refuses to look back, although I can feel the conflict radiating off her. This woman is a rollercoaster of mind-fucks; but she looks like shit. I’m not sure how I recognised her from across the road; I’m sure I have my Jenna-radar to thank for it. She’s wearing leggings and a long baggy black top, a bag slung over her shoulder and her hair tied up in a tangle on the top of her head. She’s been crying.

  We walk to the car park in silence, and when Jenna sees we’re heading towards the car, she reaches out and tries to grab the bags from me, trying but failing to peel my fingers away from the plastic. The feel of her skin on mine is incredible, but apparently we’re both angry with each other, and it’ll take more touching than that to extinguish the flames we’re throwing at each other.

  “Let’s go,” I open up the car and put her bags in the back.

  “I’m not going back yet.”

  “You got more shopping to do, maybe some celebratory cake supplies to buy?”

  “No.” She seethes, “I made them this morning.”

  “Put your bags in then, we’re going for coffee.” She glares at me, but does as I ask and throws her bags in the back, turning her back to me, and I shut the door, “You know you don't have to take orders from me, right?”

  I say it, but I can't help the feeling of triumph when she asks how high when I tell her to jump. It gets me every time, like she literally can't help doing what I say.

  “What are we going for coffee for?” She asks, “It’s quite clear you don't want to be around me, and I don't want to be near you.”

  I ignore her, because I can't explain how much I don't want to look at her, or be near her. But I feel like I need to be around her, no matter how much last night hurt.

  I tell Jenna to find a table for us as I order the coffees and I watch her look around for where to sit while I wait for our drinks. With two frothy cappuccinos and two chocolate muffins on a tray, I join her at the table she picked. It’s in the corner, by the window, managing to be open and hidden at the same time.

  “Why did you do it, Jen?”

  “It’s a part of life.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s a shit excuse for agreeing to marry someone.”

  “What would you know?”

  Jenna has never sounded so venomous and I start to think I have done something wrong. No, I haven’t. What the hell is wrong with her?

  “What was I supposed to do?” She asks, playing with the foam on the top of her coffee.

  “Say no.”

  “I couldn't. None of this is his fault. If I wasn’t so messed up to begin with maybe he’d be exactly who I want to marry. I couldn't embarrass him in front of the whole family. I’d have to explain everything, and don't you think our families have been through enough without being humiliated in front of a restaurant full of people?”

  “I don't think they would care.” I grab her hand and hold it on the table to stop her spilling her coffee, “They’d think about you being happy first. They wouldn’t give a shit what the town thinks of them.”

  “I think they’d care if their daughter became the rumoured village bicycle.”

  I scoff, but she’s serious. She pulls her hand away from mine, and puts her hands on her lap, leaning over to blow the steam off her coffee. We’re silent for a long time; me watching Jenna, Jenna looking anywhere but at me.

  “So that’s it, then?”

  “What?”

  “You're going to stand in a church at the altar, and promise to love him forever, knowing you’ll never be in love with him like you’re supposed to be?”

  “I don't know what I’m going to do. But I think we’ve established it’s impossible for us to commit to each other.”

  “Why is it?” That’s not what she was saying on Friday. Or in the note I woke up to yesterday morning.

  “Because you're with someone else.”

  “Not this again.” Why won't she just quit it? “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

  “You can stop playing this game, Deacon.” I wasn’t aware I was playing a game, “I’ve met her.”

  “There isn’t anyone for you to meet. I don't see why I have to justify myself when I've told you there isn’t anyone else. You're the one who’s with someone, not me.”

  I put my head in my hands; I shouldn’t have said that.

  “Take me home.” She pushes her coffee away and stands up, “Please. Please just take me home.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I took a bus. I’m not interested in hearing anything anyone in Folquay has to say. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  I scrape my hand down my face. Of course the usual Sunday dinner would still go ahead. We leave the coffee shop and I lead Jenna back to the car in silence.

  “You know I won't give up, right?” I say, shifting the car into gear and reversing out.

  “What?”

  “I think he’ll hurt you. No, I know he’ll hurt you,” Jenna leans over and flicks the wipers on as I pull out of the car park, “I won't give up on us until you say ‘I do’.”

  “Don't be ridiculous. There’s something wrong with you if you don't hate me after last night.”

  “I told you I’ll wait for you.”

  “I don't understand why, Deac. If things were a mess before, I don't even know what to say about it now.”

  “I obviously did something to piss you off yesterday.”

  “What makes you say that?” She narrows her eyes at me and I smile for the first time since before the disaster that struck last night.

  “You’re my book, remember?”

  “Thanks for the ride.” Jenna attempts to open the back door for her bags, but I beat her there and grab them myself.

  “It’s roast day, I’ll come back with you.”

  “You need to shower.”

  She nods at my soaking sweatshirt and I smirk, “I’ll shower at yours.”

  “In the bath
room opposite my bedroom?” I nod, “No you won't.”

  “Why not?” I lean down and she shivers as I whisper in her ear.

  “Deac?”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. I stand up and turn my head, noticing Lizzie standing in the rain, her eyes wide in that stalker expression she has. She’s holding an umbrella that would look better in a cocktail glass than it would have any hope of keeping her dry; and she’s holding a white cardboard box in the other hand.

  “Everything okay, Lizzie?” I ask, noticing Jenna exhale quickly next to me.

  “I wanted to wish you a happy anniversary baby.” She tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek and I step back. What?

  “What are you talking about?”

  She hands me the box and I lift up the lid.

  Shit.

  “We’ve been together a year today. I ordered these for you when I went to see Jenna yesterday. They’re lemon, your favourite.”

  And each cake has ‘I love you’ piped on in icing. With Jenna’s business card tucked neatly in the middle.

  “Jen-”

  “Congratulations. Bring the shopping to Mum’s when you're done.”

  She walks away and I have to let her go and deal with this shit. When I look back to Lizzie she’s smiling as she watches Jenna walk away.

  “Lizzie. We’re not together,” I hold the box out for her to take back, “never have been.”

  “I just thought I’d get you a gift to remember the day we met. I remembered your pictures in your office and the story you told about why lemon is your favourite flavour. The least I could do was ask the girl in the picture to make your favourite flavour cakes for you.”

  “How would you recognise Jenna? You haven’t been in the office for weeks.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut when I see the look in hers. That’s why Jenna was pissed off last night. That’s why she accepted the proposal.