Charli knew she had given Jack her permission to date other people during their break, but it killed her to think about him seeing someone else given how strongly she still felt for him.
Pushing the image of Jack with another woman out of her mind for the umpteenth time, she tried to think of even more explanations for his letter to ease her anxiety. Sitting up, she reached over on her nightstand for his most recent note to search it again for clues.
The game’s still not getting much better, Charli, he’d written. I’m trying to hang in here but it’s tough. It just feels so different. If I do quit though, I’m worried I’ll feel like I failed.
Maybe he had gone ahead and actually quit, she considered.
Quitting could have had a weird effect on him and prompted him to write her the letter. Perhaps he felt the need to cut off communication with everyone and take off somewhere, find himself again. She could see herself feeling the urge to do something similar if she had given up her PhD program midstream.
Realizing she could look up Jack’s baseball status on the Internet, Charli pushed her covers off and climbed out of bed. If he quit, there would probably be an article about it online or his name would be missing from the Giants’ roster.
She sat down on the wicker chair at her desk and opened her laptop. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Setting her fingers on the keyboard, she typed his name into Google, and then took a deep breath as she clicked Return.
Sure enough, the first thing to pop up was an article titled, “Jack Logan of the San Jose Giants Gives the Game Up.”
What? Her heart leapt, and she moved her mouse over to the link and clicked on it, opening the full article on MLB.com.
“Jack Logan of the San Jose Giants, has left the game for good. The Giants’ General Manager, Carl Duton, made the announcement Friday afternoon in a press conference. Logan, who played at Oregon State, was selected in the fourteenth round of the draft by the Giants in 2012. The twenty-four-year-old pitcher claims to have ‘fallen out of love’ with the game.”
In disbelief, Charli fell back against her chair. This was crazy. Reaching for her phone, she tried calling him one more time.
It went straight to voicemail.
“Jack, I just read the news about your decision to quit online.” Her tone was different this time than in her last few messages. She was no longer speaking to him as a devastated ex-girlfriend, but as a worried friend, and she hoped Jack could hear that in her voice. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult that choice was for you, and I want you to know that I’m here if you need anything. Please, Jack, call me so we can talk about this.” She wanted to say more, but there was nothing else she really could say without him on the other end. After hesitating for a few more seconds, she hung up.
And then she stared at her phone hoping Jack would call her back.
Ten minutes passed.
Nothing.
Another ten.
Her phone didn’t ring.
Charli folded her arms on her desk and laid her head down on top of them. She wished she had been able to see into the future back when she suggested they make the pact and that she’d known Jack was going to quit when he did. They could have made it a year and then some doing long-distance.
Now Jack was done with baseball, and she had no idea where he was. Although in reality, he could have been off soul searching like she’d originally thought, he had mentioned in a letter a year earlier that if he quit, he wanted to move out to Charleston and be with her. If he still felt strongly for her, wouldn’t he have flown to Charleston instead of cutting her out of his life?
“Oh no,” she moaned. She couldn’t help but think again of her least favorite theory—that Jack had met someone else and that he had decided, even with his new freedom to move anywhere in the country, that he wanted to stay and keep pursuing the other woman. At least for a while.
She almost couldn’t accept this. Her and Jack’s relationship had been so great, and honestly, she thought it was indestructible. But she realized that one of the ingredients to their winning formula was their shared history. For the past year and a half, they’d been building new histories with new people, and considering that Jack had been going through such a difficult time, it was possible that someone on his end had been listening to and empathizing with his struggles on a day-in and day-out basis. Charli could see how that might have grown into something more, and how her periodic pep talks through snail mail might have seemed like a poor substitute for the TLC he really needed.
She suddenly felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom. Kneeling down in front of the toilet, she threw up what little she had in her stomach and then propped herself up against the wall and started to cry into her hands. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work out. There was supposed to be a happily ever after at the end of this story—her with her PhD, Jack with his successful baseball career, reuniting at Hayden’s and picking up where they left off five years earlier. Why had they neglected to write a contingency plan for if one of them wasn’t happy with the way things were?
“What was I thinking coming up with that pact in the first place?” Charli sobbed. She rewound her thoughts to that night at Hayden’s when she heard a knock on her front door. Maybe it was Jack, she thought, coming to tell her the letter had just been a joke. “A terrible joke,” she imagined herself saying as she took his face into her hands and kissed him for the first time in too long.
But her fantasy vanished when she heard Rebecca’s voice on the other side of the door telling her to open up. Climbing to her feet, Charli flushed the toilet and ran some cold water over her face. She hadn’t looked in the mirror in days and saw now how gaunt and pale her cheeks were. A couple of zits had also popped up on her chin. Brownie points to Rebecca for being such a good friend that she didn’t comment on her appearance once during any of her visits.
“Charli!” Rebecca knocked again.
Charli shut off the light and came out of the bathroom to unlock the door.
“Oh, good, you’re alive.” Rebecca walked in with a bag full of groceries from Harris Teeter. “Come with me into the kitchen. I’m making you food. And I brought wine. We’re getting over this Jack-doesn’t-want-to-talk-to-me-anymore pity-party.”
Charli closed the door behind her. “Rebecca, he quit,” she said, still in shock over the news she had just read.
“What?” Rebecca paused in the entryway, resting the bag of groceries on her hip.
“Jack quit baseball,” Charli said. “I read it online.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Charli’s throat was dry. “At first I thought maybe this meant that he had written me the note because he’d decided to take off and go soul searching.”
“But then you realized if he was still in love with you he probably would have just come here, to Charleston?” Rebecca said.
“Exactly,” Charli sighed. So, her conclusion was logical. Rebecca had come to the same one.
“I’m so sorry, Charli.” Rebecca pulled her into a hug.
With her chin on Rebecca’s shoulder, Charli couldn’t help but lose it again. For a few minutes, Rebecca smoothed down her hair, soothing her as Charli blamed herself for this whole disaster.
Then, Rebecca pulled back and said, “You know what you should do?”
“What?” Fly out to where she thought he might be? Try to win his heart back? Keep calling until he answered?
“Move on to someone new yourself,” Rebecca said. “That’s the fastest way to get over a broken heart. At least according to Cosmo.” Rebecca reached into her grocery bag and handed the latest issue to Charli with a barely clothed picture of Cameron Diaz gracing the cover.
“You brought me Cosmo?” Charli said, crying and laughing at the same time. “What are we, sorority sisters?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s no Science Daily or Discovery magazine, but it’s got some good information. Maybe you should start reading it. I bookmarked the page titled, ‘Top Ten
Ways to Move on and Get Over Your Ex.’ Number one on the list is to date someone new.”
Charli flipped through the magazine and skimmed the article.
“Listen, Charli,” Rebecca said, pulling her into the living room and sitting her down on the couch. “Not to be rude, but Jack obviously doesn’t feel the same way you do right now. I can’t imagine how much that must hurt to think about, but it’s the truth.”
Charli shook her head, not wanting to accept it.
“Now, I know you thought that you and Jack were perfect for each other, but you need to adjust your thinking a little bit.”
“It’s just such unfortunate timing,” Charli said. “If Jack wasn’t into someone else, he could have probably found a job in Charleston, and we could have been together again.”
“But that’s not the way it played out,” Rebecca told her. “And as painful as that is, you need to go on with your life. You don’t want to be the psycho ex-girlfriend who keeps calling him forever. That’s not going to do you any good.”
Ouch. That was harsh. Leave it to Rebecca to dish out the truth serum.
“What about our future?” she asked, her mind suddenly jumping ahead. “Am I supposed to forget about the pact we made? Or do I keep that date in the back of my head?”
She really wanted to hang onto the hope of a someday with Jack. The thought that this was it was unbearable.
Rebecca sat down beside her. “Honestly, Charli, that letter he wrote kind of sounds like him calling the pact off.”
“Really?” Her stomach sunk.
“Well, it certainly doesn’t make your future with him sound promising.”
“I wish he would have added something to the bottom of the note like, P.S. Pact is still on. Or, P.S. Pact is off.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t, so for now, I honestly think you need to give something else a chance.”
“You mean someone else?” Charli interpreted. “You mean Christopher?”
“I would highly recommend him as a good place to start,” Rebecca said. “He’s here. He’s available. And we both know he’s interested.”
Charli took her head in her hands. If Jack wasn’t staying sidelined in the dating department, she knew that she shouldn’t either. And she couldn’t go on feeling this sorry for herself much longer. But she couldn’t imagine pulling herself together. She didn’t want to move on. She wanted Jack.
“I don’t know if I can realistically do it,” she admitted.
“Charli, you got into a top PhD program. You just came up with a blow-your-socks-off dissertation topic. You can surely get back up on your feet after this. Think of it as a challenge. You rise to challenges.”
“Intellectual challenges, yeah. But this is an emotional one.”
Rebecca dismissed her argument with a wave of her hand. “I’ve seen how you are when you put your mind to something. You’ll get through this.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” She patted Charli’s leg. “Come on. Why don’t you hop in the shower? Wash up? I’ll cook us dinner. And we’ll start this road to recovery.”
“I’m not sure.”
Rebecca stood up. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” She started toward the kitchen and then paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. “By the way, I also may have invited Christopher over for dessert.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Rebecca flashed a guilty smile. “Oops.”
“Rebecca, I look like hell.”
“Oh? You’re suddenly worried about impressing him?” She raised an eyebrow.
“No, I’m just not exactly up for entertaining.”
“I’m the one entertaining,” Rebecca said. “Just at your house. Come on. He’s seen you after you pulled two all-nighters before our last set of final exams. He won’t care. Having him come over will help you get your mind off Jack.”
It would definitely do that. Christopher was always so talkative and so into her that he didn’t give Charli a chance to think about much else.
“Allow yourself to have a little fun. Don’t think so much,” Rebecca said.
“Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Take a shower. If you really don’t want him to come over when you get out, I’ll call and cancel.”
Grunting, Charli stood up. Then she went into the bathroom and locked herself inside. As she turned the shower on she willed herself not to think about Jack and to focus her energy instead on Christopher.
—
DESSERT WITH CHRISTOPHER went better than Charli had anticipated. He made her laugh most of the time by doing impersonations of their professor, Dr. Rhodes, who lectured in different accents to keep the class engaged. And while Rebecca did the dishes, he took the time to check in with her about Jack.
“Rebecca told you about the letter?” Charli asked.
He nodded and then said, “You know, in college I had a serious girlfriend. Her name was Amy. She was everything to me—The One, I was sure of it. But right before graduation, she broke up with me for my roommate. I was crushed, and for the longest time I thought I’d never meet someone I’d feel the same way about ever again. I mean I was convinced of it. But lately, I’m not so sure.”
Charli felt herself blush.
“Don’t give up, okay?” he said.
She nodded, feeling better—feeling desirable too—which was a far cry from how she’d been feeling hours earlier.
At the end of the night, she walked Christopher out to his motorcycle, a Harley Davidson that he’d been dying to get her on for months.
“You want to go for a ride?” he asked as he tossed the keys up and then caught them. “Have a little fun?”
“I’ve already told you that’s not exactly my definition of fun.”
“It will help take your mind off things.”
Charli eyed the dangerous red bike with its chrome tires. She guessed it beat going back in her house and moping around.
“Fine. I’ll give it a try,” she said.
Christopher smiled and helped her onto the bike. He showed her how to fasten her helmet, pointed out the passenger foot pegs, and told her to hold onto his waist the whole time.
“You better not go too fast,” she warned.
“What’d you say?” he replied as he revved up the engine.
“I said not too—”
He took off before she could finish and rounded the corner onto Murray Boulevard, a street of impressive mansions. Christopher whizzed past them, slowing down just a couple of times to point out his favorites, and then he turned onto East Battery, where late-night walkers were strolling along the sidewalk that lined the Cooper River.
“What do you think?” he yelled over the roaring engine and the buzz of the wind.
Charli took a deep breath of the fresh air. For the first time since getting Jack’s letter, she felt alive. “Not bad!”
Christopher gave her a thumbs-up and leaned into the turn as he sped onto East Bay Street. He maneuvered in and out of slow-moving cars until he got to the foot of the Cooper River Bridge.
“We’re not seriously going up there, are we?” Charli asked. She was terrified of heights and didn’t even like going over the bridge in her car.
Christopher answered by accelerating up it. Charli screamed and gripped his waist tighter as they worked their way to the top. She was tempted to close her eyes, but the view was too beautiful. Over the side she could see the twinkling city lights and the water sparkling below them in the glow from the illuminated cables.
“It sure is something, isn’t it?” Christopher said.
“Breathtaking,” Charli replied.
They cruised into Mount Pleasant, puttered around, and then pulled a U-turn and drove back toward her place. Instead of taking the route they’d come on, Christopher wove through side streets with hanging lanterns and gardens lit up by soft white lights. The peacefulness of it soothed her and left her feeling refreshed.
“That was just what
I needed,” she told Christopher when he dropped her off.
“I’m glad,” he said.
Out of gratitude, she planted a tiny kiss on his cheek.
“Guess I should take you on motorcycle rides more often,” he said, reaching up and resting his hand on the spot her lips had touched.
Charli thanked him for the ride and walked up her front porch steps. She was just about to open the door when Christopher called after her.
“What do you say to dinner tomorrow night at Joe’s Crab Shack on the pier at Folly Beach? We can take the Harley now that you’re a pro.”
“You mean a date?” Charli said.
“We don’t have to call it that. Although if you want to I’m not opposed.”
Charli gave him a slight smile. Jack has moved on, she reminded herself. You need to get on with your life too. She decided that it couldn’t hurt. That it might be fun. And it would get Rebecca off her back.
“Pick me up at six?” she said.
Grinning, Christopher started his engine.
—
CHARLI WAS IN the midst of finishing off her second bottle of Samuel Adams and thinking to herself how well her date with Christopher was going when he shifted his attention from the sunset to her and said, “So . . . tell me about your childhood.”
“My childhood?” Jack immediately popped into her head.
“Yeah. I know all the details about your dissertation topic. I know that you need at least one cappuccino a day to survive, and that if you die, you want all your organs to be donated for research, but I know nothing about your life back in Oregon growing up.”
“What do you want to know?” Charli asked.
“What did you do, who did you hang out with, that sort of thing.”
She felt her cheeks flush. What was she supposed to say? Her relationship with Jack pretty much defined her childhood. And yet she didn’t want to bring him into the conversation. Christopher seemed to sense that he’d made her uncomfortable.
Fortunately, instead of asking why, he leaned back in his chair and said, “Do you want to ask me some questions first?”
Charli nodded, relieved.
“All right. Fire away!”
Unlike her he seemed thrilled about the opportunity to open up. Charli learned that his parents were not just a little wealthy as he’d hinted; they were extremely wealthy. “Family money,” he explained, from his dad’s late father who owned an oil company. Christopher had been to forty-eight countries and had stayed in some of the most exclusive resorts in the world—the types with butlers, warm cookies waiting on your bedside table every night, and infinity pool bath tubs. Growing up, he was a total Star Wars nerd, and at one point, during high school, he thought he might want to be an actor instead of a scientist.
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