I stood up again and started pacing around the room, suddenly too restless to sit still. “Did you know that I went out with Bethany Sanderson in high school?”
“No, when did you go out with Bethany? And what does she have to do with it?”
“Just stay with me. It was senior year. I took her out on one date and when I dropped her off at home, she told me she just wanted to be friends and made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone we’d gone out.”
“Oh my god.”
“Do you know how many girls I’ve dated who’ve basically done the same thing? Maybe not the part about keeping it a secret, that was particularly shitty. But that date with Bethany Sanderson is the story of my life. I meet someone and maybe we like each other enough to date for a while, but eventually it always comes back to that. We should just be friends.”
“Oh, twinkie.”
I kept wandering around the room as I talked. “I’ve never even had a huge breakup. Which is a weird thing to be disappointed about, I know. But no one’s ever felt strongly enough about me for it to end badly. Or to show up at my door asking for another chance. Or run into me a year later and say maybe we made a mistake. No one has ever wanted me enough. And do you want to know the worst part?”
Her eyes were full of sympathy. “What?”
“I’ve never felt that strongly about anyone either. I’ve shrugged off the end of every relationship I’ve ever had because I knew none of them were in love with me. And I wasn’t in love with them. But I’ve never been the kind of guy who wanted to date a ton of different women and never commit. I’m not wired that way.”
“You’re wired to find your person.”
I stopped. “I’m wired to find my goddamn penguin.”
“What?”
“Never mind. The point is, I wanted hope. I spent all that time and energy learning, researching, working with the data, creating the questionnaire, and even changing careers, because every time I had an insight, it gave me hope. Every couple who used my questionnaire and fell in love, every wedding I ever went to—hell, even you and Martin—all of it made me feel like it was possible. If I could crack the code to falling in love and make it work for dozens, even hundreds of other people, maybe someday it would work for me.”
“And it will.”
I sank back onto the couch. “No, it won’t. That’s the thing, Molly. It won’t work for me.”
“How can you believe that?”
“When all the evidence is pointing to one conclusion, at some point you have to quit trying to prove it wrong.”
She got up and moved to the couch beside me. “Corban, there’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t have some inner flaw that makes you fundamentally unlovable. You’re brilliant and funny and kind and really freaking awesome. Any woman who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you.”
I shrugged. “Thanks.”
“But do you think it’s possible that you’re getting in your own way?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you really believe something about yourself, you’re going to act as if it’s true. If you don’t think you can fall in love, or you don’t think anyone can fall in love with you, that’s going to influence how you relate to people.”
I wrinkled my nose at her. She was making sense in a way that was rather uncomfortable.
“Think about it. You grew up assuming everyone was going to think you were weird. Whether or not it was true, you acted like it was. You were shy and quiet. And maybe you missed out on chances for people to get to know the real you because you were too worried about being different.”
“So you’re saying it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“I’m saying that maybe assuming no one will fall in love with you means you aren’t open to it. You miss the signs that it’s happening because you’ve already decided it won’t.”
I pushed my glasses back up my nose. Was she right? Had something been happening between me and Hazel and I’d missed it because I assumed it never would?
She patted my leg. “I’m sorry things are tough right now. You know what might help?”
“What?”
“Baby snuggles.”
She got up and brought a still-sleeping Kate to me. Gently laid her in my arms. And she was right, it did help. A little bit, anyway.
I held my niece while she slept. And even though I still felt shitty about Hazel, at least my weird brain had done something right. I’d helped Molly and Martin get together, and now they had Kate. The tiny human in my arms reminded me that even if the rest of my life never got better, at least I’d always have that.
36
Hazel
“A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.” ~ Walter Winchell
Friday morning, I sat in a coffee shop a few blocks from my apartment building, nursing a mug of black tea. The atmosphere was cozy, with soft armchairs and tables by the front window. It smelled like fresh coffee with a hint of sweetness from their selection of pastries.
I blew on my tea while I waited for my friends to arrive. The Soggy Seattle Half-Marathon was tomorrow, and we’d all taken the day off. The plan was to rest, hydrate, and eat well so we’d be fully energized and ready to run in the morning.
Specifically, ready to kick the Bedazzled Bitches’ asses in the morning.
I was glad for the reprieve from work, and not just because of the potential benefits to my race day performance. The last several days had been a struggle. I couldn’t avoid Corban. We had to work together too often.
Being near him hurt. A lot.
So I’d put up a wall between us. It was the only thing I could do to protect my heart. I hadn’t been cold or dismissive. I didn’t want to hurt him. But I’d kept things businesslike and avoided being around him unless I had no choice.
Everly and Sophie came into the coffee shop together. Everly’s hair was down and she wore a pretty yellow shirt with jeans and wedge-heeled sandals. Sophie’s floral shirt nipped at her waist and her cropped jeans and sandals showed off bright pink toenails.
We exchanged hugs, as girlfriends were inclined to do, and a few minutes later, Nora arrived. She wore her hair down and was dressed in head-to-toe black. She whipped off her sunglasses and set a shopping bag on my table with a bright smile.
“Are you ladies ready for this?” she asked. “Because I don’t know if you’re ready for this.”
Sophie wiggled her hips and started singing the line to a song about being ready for this jelly—until she bumped her backside into a chair and almost knocked it over.
“Sorry,” she said, scooting the chair back into place. “What are we not ready for?”
Reaching into the bag, Nora pulled out a white tank top and held it up to her chest. “What do you think?”
Everly drew in a quick breath and Sophie squeaked. I pushed my glasses up my nose.
The shirt had a line drawing of a martini glass with the words Dirty Martini Running Club surrounding it in a circle.
“It’s so cute,” Everly said. “I love the pink and blue.”