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Romantic

Page 56

by Ruth Mitchell

“J.J. didn’t get the chance to tell her. But she plans to. She knows where they are staying.”

“He bought me a car! He talked about spending Christmas together in Maine. He convinced me to give up that job—I was so excited about that job. Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he was a little in love with you,” suggests my mom.

Again I hear Brandon’s derisive laugh, Jack’s in love with you?

“I don’t think he ever loved me. I was just a pleasant distraction.”

All the pretty things he said to me about loving me and me filling the hole in his heart—and I believed them all. I actually felt bad for not loving him more. If there’d been no Jack, I would have my job in Redwood City. I’d live down the street from Brandon—and even though he said he didn’t want to date me, living that close—maybe . . . maybe something could have eventually happened. But now . . . it’s all a mess. I don’t even want to know what he thinks of me.

I just stare at the horizon; nearly all the light has faded from the sky. I have ruined everything.

“Speak to me, Annie,” my mom says after a while. “How are you feeling?”

“Shocked. And foolish, and naive.” I’m so ashamed. I know deep down that I never loved Jack. Oh, I tried, I definitely tried. He had a pretty face and even prettier words that told me exactly what I wanted to hear. But if I’m honest with myself, I dated him because I was tired of waiting for Brandon. I agreed to the Hawaii trip because Brandon had hurt my feelings when I overheard what he said to Pepper. How incredibly immature and stupid can a girl be?

“Sweetheart, Jack fooled us all.”

“Not Brandon,” I maintain.

“Well, he has some skin in the game,” says Elinor.

“I wish you’d all stop acting like Brandon likes me. He doesn’t. I wish he did, but he doesn’t.”

I stand up from the Adirondack chair. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Are you certain you’re okay?” my mom asks as I head into the house.

“No, I’m not okay. Not even close.”

***

My performance on Friday is full of angry music. I’m not sure who I’m most angry at: Jack for being an absolute dirt bag, me for fooling myself into thinking I loved Jack, or Brandon for being right and for not being here when I want him. I know I could text him. I’ve started to many times today.

The thing is, I know that if I ask Brandon, he will be here right away. But . . . I also know that I’m done with platonic friendship. I want so much more than that. And I’m so emotionally fragile right now that I can’t risk any more rejection from Brandon. Maybe my mom’s right, maybe he does care. I desperately want to believe her, and a part of me clings to that hope.

As I step out of the hotel, there’s a man waiting for me with a bouquet of overblown peonies.

“Annie!” A familiar voice shouts my name.

Jack? It can’t be! I stop in my tracks, stunned by the sheer audacity of the man. Then I walk on by, holding my head high.

“Please!” He follows after me. “At least let me explain.”

I spin around full of righteous indignation. “Explain what? Why you ghosted me? Why you dated me while you were engaged? Why you pretended to love me?”

He flinches when I mention his engagement. “None of it was pretend, I swear.” And bless his lying heart, I think he believes it. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Ok, fine. I do have questions. Walk with me.” I start with a brisk pace on the path leading to a favorite hiking trail. “You’d better keep up.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Okay, the floor is yours. Explain away.”

“While we walk?” Jack asks, a little put out. “It looks like rain.”

I look up at the foreboding clouds moving in.