“You’re not Mike,” I insist because I need her to believe me.
“All my relationships say otherwise. I never get attached enough that I can’t get over a guy in days, if not hours.” She curls her lip again like she’s disgusted with herself. “When I went home to Sunview to help out after the divorce, I met Hank and did the same thing to him as I did with the others. I introduced him to fun, carefree Jill who likes to party and flirt and push boundaries. But don’t you worry because she’ll always come home at the end of the night and she’ll never cheat. She won’t get jealous of your friends or your Xbox either, and she’ll never ever pick a fight. Being with her means good times and smooth sailing.” Her eyes drop to her lap. “The problem was they never actually had the real me. A few of them realized that and ended it with me when they got smart. Hank didn’t.”
A nauseous feeling spreads through my gut as her story unfolds because the Jill I know is so much more than that. She wears her heart on her sleeve and gives life all she’s got. When she’s mad, she yells at you ’til her face hurts; when she’s hurt, she cries buckets and uses your shirt as a tissue; when she worries for you, she holds you so tight like she has the power to fix anything; and when she dreams, she doesn’t let anything stop her. I feel sorry for the guys who never got to see all of her, but possessive at the same time. I want to be the only one who gets all of her.
But I’m an idiot. Because she’s talking about boyfriends, partners, lovers. It was too risky to give herself over to them. I, on the other hand, have only ever been her summer-vacation friend. I’ll never be a threat to her happiness because losing me is a breeze. She did it before, and she can do it again.
She doesn’t notice my frown—or maybe she thinks it’s one of empathy—so she continues.
“I broke up with Hank that night. He was hurt. Surprised. Angry. But it had to be done. Jenna thought Hank had been the one to break up with me because of how upset I was, but I didn’t tell her it was me. She’d ask too many questions, and then I’d have to tell her that I’ve spent years doing to other people what Mike did to her. And I’m a giant asshole.” She’s pulling on her hair again, and I’m starting to worry she’s giving herself a bald spot.
“Okay, calm down.” I shift forward and grab her wrists to stop her, doing my best to reprise my role as her friend. Shit. “Just because you were protecting yourself doesn’t make you an asshole.”
“Fine, but I’m still a jerk.”
“Yeah, sometimes you are. We all are. But looking out for yourself isn’t a crime. People want different things. Even way back, you told me how different you and your sister were. You were the dreamer, and she was the steadfast one. Nothing wrong with either one. And, frankly, anyone who tries keeping you from being yourself is the asshole, not you. You never lied to anyone. Mike made vows in front of family and friends and God.”
“But don’t you see? Me making the rules kept Hank from what he wanted. I stole a chance at real happiness from him and wasted two years of his life.”
“And that was his choice. If he wanted more of you or he was jealous or unhappy, nothing was keeping him from pouring his heart out except fear. And if a guy isn’t going to take a chance going after what he wants, then it’s his own fault when he doesn’t get it in the end. Hell, you were the one who told me that yourself.” I hope I’m saying the right thing.
“You know, you’re pretty good at this. Have you ever thought about being a therapist?”
“I don’t look good in sweater vests.”
She cracks a small smile. “Yeah, I could see that.”
I give her a second to make sure she’s not going to yank her hair out and then deem it safe. “So you had this revelation, broke up with Hank, and then what? Came here? Why?” The idea that she’d be in a personal crisis and choose to come to my town sparks an intense feeling of satisfaction, but it’s wiped out with her next words.
“No. I spent some time in Greenville, then Raleigh, and then I was on my way to Charleston when my car broke down here.”
“Oh.” I feel more than a little stupid, although I do remember her saying she’d been on the road a lot lately. Still, I don’t like the idea of being a mistake on the way to something better.
“I just needed to get away, you know?”
I nod because my experience mirrors hers in so many ways.
“Find the life I’m meant to lead before I’m too old to do it.”
“I was going to say something about your decrepit state but didn’t want to be rude.” I return my chair to its original position and settle back with my beer as we both focus on the night sky and the empty beach. “So, what do you think you were meant to do?”
She snorts and it’s cute. “I haven’t the first clue, but I’ll never stop dreaming.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I scratch my beard. “Beaches are good places to dream, or so I’ve been told.”
“I have to admit, I’ve been in worse spots.” She grins and then snaps her head my way. “Speaking of which, I get my paycheck in a few days and I can finally pay you for the room.”
“You’re not paying me for the room.”
“Of course I am. I made a deal with Felicity, and I intend on sticking to it. I even signed a lease.”
“We’re not going to argue about this.” I dismiss her again, and she tilts her head at me.
“But we’re so good at it.”
We both grin at that and watch each other for probably too long.
“Yeah, that we are, Sunshine.”
She throws up a finger, cutting whatever intimacy we’d built. “Now you have to tell me.”
“Tell you what?” I stall for time because I already know.
“Why you call me Sunshine.”
My hand goes to the back of my neck and I blurt out the first thing I can think of. “’Cuz when I met you, you had sunburn.”
“No I didn’t.” She’s grinning.
“How can you possibly remember that?”
“Because I was vigilant about skincare and obsessed with getting wrinkles after reading an article on how even famous Hollywood actresses stop getting booked for jobs when they get their first wrinkle. A ridiculous double standard. I should have known right then that acting wasn’t for me.”
I don’t ask about her acting career since, of all topics, it’s the one most likely to cause her to murder me in my sleep after what I did. So I fess up, especially in light of all the sharing she’s done with me tonight and how good it felt when we were smiling at each other just now and sharing that connection. It doesn’t mean I have to look her in the eye when I do it, though.
“Okay.” Here goes nothing. “The real reason I call you Sunshine is because you light up every room you’re in, and no matter if you’re pissed the hell off or laughing ’til you cry at some stupid joke, you make everyone around you feel alive. And it’s not just what you put out there on purpose for people to see, because even when you’re sleeping or sitting quietly looking at the ocean, you make me feel like I won’t ever be cold another day in my life.”