And then there’d been their physical chemistry . . . Her hair started smoking just remembering how good they were together alone.
It’d been long after, when they were no longer alone, that their problems had set in.
Simon smiled. “I remember your panicked texts, which of course didn’t come through until after you’d gotten off the mountain, and then they all came in one big rush. ‘Simon! I’m stuck here with a guy named Ryan who says he’s your friend, but I don’t know him and we have no power, which means no blow dryer. He’s going to see my hair au naturel! No one sees my hair au naturel, Simon!’” He laughed. “Then the texts slowly shifted to things like ‘wow, he’s actually nice’ and ‘did you know he’s smart as hell’ and ‘I hope you don’t mind if I kiss him, because I already did . . .’”
Alison lost herself in those memories—going out into the blizzard to load up on more firewood, foraging in the pantry for things they could eat, sitting side by side in front of the fire they had to maintain or freeze, talking until dawn about anything and everything, feeling like it was just the two of them in the entire world, forging an intimacy that had felt like they’d been together forever.
She’d fallen hard, and her only solace had been that she knew he’d fallen just as hard.
“You and Ryan are very different,” Simon said quietly. “But different can be good.”
“Not in this case.”
“That’s because once you got back from Tahoe, and reality crept into your relationship, you didn’t know how to deal with it.”
She nodded at the truth of that. “I guess I’d hoped it could be just the two of us forever.”
“Yes, you mean you wish he didn’t have such a full life because it meant that you needed to fit into that and you weren’t interested.”
“It’s not that I wasn’t interested,” she protested. “It’s that I don’t know how. I’m . . . shy.”
Simon laughed.
She pointed at him. “Okay, fine. Not shy. But I don’t . . . like people.”
He laughed again.
“Okay, fine. The truth is, he’s got family and a tight-knit group of friends, and they’ve all been together forever, and I was new, and it was all so intimidating to me that instead of trying to fit in, I just . . . didn’t.”
Simon nodded, eyes solemn, well aware of her past and just how unused to being loved she was. Alison exhaled a rough breath, hating that Ryan had wanted only one thing from her: for her to integrate herself into his life. And she’d been too self-conscious, too worried that she wouldn’t measure up to even try.
“It was important to him,” Simon said.
Because like Simon, Ryan remained close to anyone who’d ever been in his life. His friends went as far back as his childhood. And then there was his family. He’d lost his dad early and had stepped up to be the man of the family, taking care of his mom and sister, which meant he was involved in their lives in a big way.
Unfortunately, they were also deeply invested in his life, and besides being nosy as hell, neither of them approved of Alison as a good fit. This had made every gathering—of which there were many for the very social family—difficult for Alison. “I hate that I blew it,” she said softly, the fries not sitting so well.
Simon pulled the plate closer to him. He’d always been a bottomless pit. Her too, which sucked. She’d have to work the fries off in the gym. So would he, but he’d enjoy it. “Knowing the problem is half the battle,” he said. “Fix it.”
She sighed. She was the first one to be annoyed when people used their shitty childhoods to excuse their adult behavior, and yet . . . she did exactly that on the daily. “I don’t try to push people away, you know.”
“I know. But for the record, you’re good at it.”
“You seem to stick just fine.”
“Because you’re my person, and you’ve never let me down.”
He had no idea how thankful she was that he wouldn’t let her push him away. “Thanks,” she murmured, sincerely moved. “And same.” Then she stole the last french fry. She scooped up an obscene amount of ranch dressing with it and ate it blissfully. “Ryan said he wants the woman in his life to be his best friend. But I’m much better at the other parts of being his girlfriend. The easy parts.”
“There are easy parts to a relationship?” Simon asked.
“The in-bed parts.”
He grimaced. “Look, just be the real you.”
“And who’s the real me?”
“The girl with a nonexistent dad and a mom who treated her more like a servant than a daughter. The girl who grew up hard and fast all alone to make her own way in the world.”
“I wasn’t all alone. You and your dad helped me out.”
“Not soon enough,” he said with regret. “You were good at hiding your situation, and we were good at not looking deeper. Which to this day still makes me feel like shit.”
Alison shook her head. She didn’t want Simon to blame himself. He and her uncle Dale had given her a future with Armstrong Properties, and she loved them for that. Yes, sometimes she still yearned for something that she’d gotten herself on her own, but she’d work on that. “None of it was your fault. I’m fine.”
“And yet you still keep everyone at arm’s length, never trusting anyone. On the rare occasion someone does get past your defenses, like Ryan, soon as you realize it, you sabotage yourself.”
She stared at him, knowing it was all true. “Why do I put up with you again?”
He sipped his beer. “Because we’re cut from the same cloth. Plus, you love me, and you know I’m right.”
“About . . . ?”
“Everything.”
She had to laugh. He’d been at her back for as long as she could remember. He was her closest friend. Maybe even her only true friend. Whether Simon believed it or not, he’d gotten Alison through that shitty childhood, her rocky teenage years, and even now was still standing up for her, even when she didn’t deserve it. “We’re both pretty screwed up, aren’t we.”
Ignoring this, he lifted a hand in Louise’s direction, winked at her, and their waitress blushed like a young girl and brought another plate of fries. Simon dug right in. “Speak for yourself. So how exactly did Ryan break up with you?”
“Why?”
“I’m surprised is all. I know how much he cares about you.”
She felt her throat burn, because in the end, that hadn’t mattered, had it? “He talked me into one of their group dinners. The one last week that you had to skip cuz you couldn’t get coverage for your dad. Afterward, I guess someone told him I was stuck-up, and not as invested in him as he was in me.”
“They did not call you stuck-up,” Simon said, looking angry on her behalf.
“I don’t know what words they used. And does it matter? My point is that he took their opinions to heart and gave them more weight than how we feel about each other.”
“So . . . you finally actually let him know that you love him then?”
“Well . . .” Okay, maybe she wasn’t done with the french fries after all. She took another. And another, until Simon stopped her.