I really hadn’t meant to tell him I loved him like that. But it’s the truth. And that sits uncomfortably in my stomach, because I know that now it’s time to find the real truth. I’ve ignored what Jill said for long enough, and now I have to face whatever it is.
It’s a little shocking to me that I didn’t think to google Tristan while he was away, but I never needed to. We’re friends on social media, and he had enough pictures to keep me satisfied—and every time he posted a photo without a woman I was relieved. In the four years he was gone he never posted a photo with a woman. I’m not naive enough to think that he was entirely celibate during that time, but I’m glad that I didn’t have to witness it.
I roll over on my stomach, cradling one of my pillows and type ‘Tristan Swallows’ into google. And I feel my eyebrows rise into my hairline when the first word I see in the first headline is ‘SCANDAL.’
What?
SENATOR’S DAUGHTER’S TEENAGE PREGNANCY SHOCKS THE WORLD.
I click on the first news article and start to read at the same time my heart starts to sink in my chest. The article outlines what happened: That Tristan Swallows had an affair with the daughter of a state senator. He left his family on the day she turned eighteen and married her. Sources claim there had been no sexual contact before that. She was pregnant within three months. There was an arrest and an investigation since people suspected that she might have been pregnant before her eighteenth birthday, but he was cleared of all charges. But there was so much blowback that the senator eventually resigned.
I find a dozen articles that say the same thing with varying levels of detail. Some claim that he had been sleeping with the girl long before she was legal. Some don’t.
How did I not know this? Tristan has a child? He was married? He’s never worn a ring, not as long as I’ve known him. What did I do? Is he still married now?
Fuck.
Now I understand why Jill said it might not look that good. Putting someone up for a bachelor’s auction when their first google result is a scandal with a possibly underage girl, it’s hard to see how that won’t turn into bad press. But she’s still willing to do it. So maybe she thinks it won’t be that bad?
I feel queasy, but also hesitant. What if I’m misinterpreting this? What if there’s more to it? What if they got the story wrong?
My thoughts start spinning a million miles an hour. Does my dad know about this? If he does, and he still chose to keep Tristan in his life, then that means something, right?
What does it mean?
I take a deep breath. None of this makes sense. I need to ask him about it. What happens if it is true? Does that change my opinion of him? It won’t change the fact that I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him for so long that it’s as natural as breathing. But if it is true…is this a pattern?
I need to talk to someone about this or I’m going to explode. And right now, the only other person that knows about this is Jill. And thankfully, my best friend is a morning person. If she’s not awake by now, I’ll be shocked.
Are you up?
Yep! Morning.
The panic in my chest eases a little.
I know that I used you as an alibi yesterday but is there a chance that we could actually get breakfast? I have shit that I need to talk about.
Are you okay?
I sigh. How much do I tell her right now?
I just googled Tristan because I had no idea what you were talking about. I didn’t know any of this stuff and I’m confused and mildly panicking and I would like to do that with you before I actually ask him about it.
She doesn’t even hesitate.
Meet me at the Pancake Parlor in twenty minutes.
Done.
Throwing the covers off, I jump in the shower to rinse off and pull on some clothes. Nothing fancy, just clothes. I’m doing everything with incredible focus so that I don’t have to think and I don’t have time to let myself ask more questions. That’s just a recipe for disaster.
One thing is for sure. Something doesn’t add up. And I think that’s what scares me the most. The lack of knowledge, not the scandal itself. Because as much as I appreciate now that Tristan and I weren’t together when I was younger, if he had so much as glanced my way, I would have gone for it with full force. I would not have cared that it were illegal.
I could barely make myself wait to approach him till I turned eighteen, so I’m not exactly one to be throwing stones in that department. But how did I not know this about him? How did I not know that he’s a father and has an ex-wife? Maybe?
I grab my keys and practically sprint out the door, not answering when Mom calls after me from the kitchen. I don’t have the energy to keep up the charade this morning—I can apologize to her later. Right now I need to have a good old-fashioned word vomit session with my best friend.
11
Nicola
It’s Wednesday. And I haven’t seen Tristan.
Have I been avoiding him? Maybe.
Partially because I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to say to him, and partially because I don’t know how the conversation is going to go, and for that reason alone, I don’t think that it can happen at work. I’ve only barely been answering his texts and throwing myself completely into my work.
I feel constantly gripped by a panic that I can’t precisely explain, but I can’t get rid of either. I’ve been waiting for this for so long and I have it. I don’t want to lose it because of something that I could have known through a fucking google search.
The only good thing that’s happened is that I think I’ve finally cracked the formula I want for orange basil, and even that isn’t free from me thinking about Tristan because he’s the one who helped me crack it. I can’t wait until Friday when I get to test this sample because it’s finally hitting my senses the way that I imagined it, and when that happens the tests usually go well.
The door opens to the lab, and when I turn I see Tristan walking in, his face determined. My heart starts to pound and my body reacts with visceral need, but my brain and heart are so confused that I can barely look at him.
He stops short and looks at me. He knows something is wrong—he has to. “Hi,” I say.
“Hey.” Tristan’s eyes are boring into me. I can feel them even if I’m not looking directly at him. “How are you?”
“I’m good. I have the formula. Finally. I think.”
“Congratulations.”
Silence hangs in the air for a moment. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah,” I say out of reflex. “Fine. I’ve just been busy trying to get this done, and with the gala next week things are kind of crazy.”
“Yeah,” he says, though it sounds like he doesn’t quite believe me. There’s another not-quite-comfortable silence before he speaks again. “Will you go out with me tomorrow night?”
“What do you mean?” I glance at him.
He smiles. “It’s not a trick question. I want to take you to a nice dinner, because you’re my girlfriend and I want to spend time with you.”
Even with all the questions and panic swirling in my brain, I miss him too. I want to spend time with him, even though I know that doing that means facing everything. “Yeah,” I say. “I can do that.”