My brothers Ryan and Travis have offered to maim or kill Josh. Tyler offered to do both, in whichever order I choose. Only I’m too tired to think about revenge. I’ve loved Josh my whole life, and I don’t know how to stop. Pathetic, right?
I’m lying in bed scrolling mindlessly through Instagram posts of people who have lives when a knock sounds on the door. “Honey?” my dad’s voice calls out. “It’s me.”
Unlike my mother, who has never let a closed door stop her, my dad usually goes away if I don’t answer. Today he walks in and sits down on the chair next to my bed. He’s way too tall for the chair, which is made to fit me, and his long legs stick way out. Kind of like a male Goldilocks trying to cram himself into Baby Bear’s chair. His calm, concerned presence and the worry lines creased into his forehead make fresh tears leak out of the corners of my eyes.
“You know I can’t bear to see you cry.”
“I know. But I’m having a hard time finding the off switch.” My nose starts to run.
“It’s not good for you to lie here crying.” The pain in his blue eyes is clear.
“I know,” I say through trembling lips. “But I don’t really know how to stop.”
He swallows. “You know that frown needs to get turned upside down,” he says in exactly the way he used to when I was little. “Those lips were made for smiling.”
Josh used to say the same thing. Only he told me they were made for kissing, too.
I close my eyes against the tears, but some still manage to squeeze out. I think of my wedding dress, perfectly tailored to fit my body alone. The one I’ll never get to wear.
Then I think about the humiliating visit when Josh came to see me and I’d let myself believe he’d come to say that he’d just been nervous, that he’d come to his senses, that he couldn’t possibly live without me. But he’d only come to apologize and to offer to pay for everything. I told him where he could shove his money and his lame apologies.
A sob slips out.
“It’s all right. Hush now. I know you’re upset. Anyone would be.” My father’s on the edge of his seat, his face panicked. As much as he loves me, it’s clear he’d rather be anywhere but here.
He smooths a large hand over my hair and cups the side of my tearstained cheek. “Your mother didn’t want me to say this, but even though his timing was truly awful, you don’t want to be married to someone who isn’t ready. I always thought you set your heart on Josh way too young.” His smile is crooked. His eyes are filled with love. “You’re only twenty-three, Erin. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“Oh, Daaaad . . .” I use what little energy I have left to crawl into his lap, where I lay my head against his chest and grab a fistful of his shirt to, hold on to just like I did when I was a toddler. It’s a wonder I don’t suck my thumb. His heartbeat under my ear is just as strong and steady as it was then. “But I had such a good plan. And I stuck to it. Only everything has turned out so disa . . . disa . . . p . . . pointing.”
I squall into his shirt like a child while he pets my head and makes soothing noises. “It’s all right, Erin. Everything’s going to be all right.”
He repeats this until I finally get myself under control.
“You can’t lie here forever,” he says quietly. “You’re going to have to give some thought to what you’re going to do next.”
My eyes tear up again.
“I know how much you enjoyed working for Jazmine. And you do have a degree in sports management,” he says. “Maybe you should give her a call and see if she still needs help.”
My head goes up. Everybody has to know by now. I don’t see how I could walk into that office and face everyone. “I don’t think I’m ready for that. Not yet.” I might never be ready. Maybe I’ll just lie here, trying not to cry, until I get really, really old. Like until I’m forty.
“I know you, sweetheart. You’re strong and smart and resilient. I have every confidence that you can do anything you put your mind to.”
“Except marry Josh,” I say, releasing a fresh flood of tears.
“Love and marriage aren’t things you make happen. And no amount of planning or scheduling can control the universe. In my experience, love most often happens when you’re not looking for it or planning it.”
He stands up easily with me in his arms, then sets me down gently on the bed. “Good night, honey. Try to get some sleep.”
“G’night, Dad.”
I lie there both comforted and alarmed as the door snicks closed. Because if love is something that just “happens,” that means you have no control at all . . . The tears are back, riding on a wave of hopelessness.
How am I supposed to figure out what to do next when I can’t even figure out how to stop crying?
Ten
Jazmine
It’s the last Tuesday of the month, and the parking lot at Between the Covers is almost full by the time I arrive for our first book club meeting of the year. I considered skipping tonight because I’ve been away so much, but I managed to read Educated by Tara Westover while I was on the road, and I never feel completely “done” with a book until I’ve discussed it here at book club.
On the bright side, my year is off to a good start: two new clients, one verbal agreement, and opening conversations in my hunt for a new endorsement deal for Tyrone—things I would have once run by Larry but now keep completely to myself for fear that the backstabbing, client-poaching, thunder-stealing Rich Hanson may catch wind of something. When I’m forced to share a conference table with him, I sit as far away as possible and keep my interactions brief. Even a curt nod in the hallway feels too friendly.
On the somewhat dimmer side, Louise has forced me to waste almost two and a half of her final five weeks interviewing additional candidates instead of hiring Erin like I wanted to the day I marched out of Larry’s office.
I’ve lost track of the number of times she’s reminded me that just because I can hire someone Larry objects to doesn’t mean I should, but so far none of the applicants come close to Erin in focus, organization, and initiative, the three things I value most in Louise. And, of course, Erin and I have both had our lives ripped apart by the loss of the person we planned to spend that life with. I want to take her under my wing and help her become the badass I think she could be. And, okay, it would be a bit of a “fuck you” to Rich Hanson, who weighed in against her. And to Larry, who brought him into the firm.
I huddle into my coat as I cross the parking lot, my eyes on the warm, welcoming light that spills out of the store windows. The buzz of conversation and the smell of polished wood and books greet me when I step inside.