Caleb’s waiting for me at the entrance to the beach, a big wicker picnic basket hooked over his arm. He grins when he sees me, and while his smile doesn’t go right through me the way Wesley’s does, it does make me happy. I’m sure choosing Caleb is the right decision.
Pretty sure.
Mostly sure.
I mean, okay, I don’t have the same crazy physical response when I’m with him that I do around Wesley, but you know what? Attraction is overrated. I may not want to rip Caleb’s clothes off, but maybe that will come in time. He’s funny, sensitive, and kind. And—as an added bonus—he isn’t responsible for the destruction of my family.
“Hey, you,” he says. He leans over to give me a kiss, but I turn my head at the last second. Instead of my lips, he gets a mouthful of my hair.
After what happened between us the last time we were on the beach, I know that there’s a high probability of kissing in the forecast tonight. I’m hoping that this time there will be fireworks, that any lingering doubts about Caleb will be put to rest and he’ll make me forget all about Wesley James.
So yes, my expectations for this date are high. Turning my head away when he tried to kiss me is probably not the best way to start it off. From here on out, I decide to be more open. If Caleb tries again, then I’m going to just go with it.
“Hi,” I say. “You look nice.”
And he does, if a little buttoned up. He’s wearing navy shorts and a white golf shirt, with pristine brown leather sandals. His golden-brown hair is neatly parted, not a hair out of place. Not like Wesley’s hair, which often looks as if it’s never seen a comb.
Why am I thinking about Wesley again? I need to put him out of my mind, once and for all. He is taking up valuable space in my brain, space that should be devoted to this nice, available boy in front of me. A boy who has packed a picnic for me.
Caleb’s smile widens. “Thanks. You too.” He takes in my flowy blue sundress, his eyes resting briefly on my cleavage before traveling down the rest of my body. “Ready?”
I nod, kicking off my flip-flops. Caleb shifts the basket on his arm and reaches for my hand. I let him lead me through the soft sand to a quieter area of the beach. We don’t speak as he spreads out a cozy plaid blanket on a patch of sand partially blocked off by a large piece of driftwood. I worry that we’ve run out of things to say to each other, five minutes into the date. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable the way it does when I’m with Wesley.
Nothing with Caleb feels the way it does when I’m with Wesley. But I’m determined to change that.
We sit down and Caleb begins to unpack the picnic basket: roast beef sandwiches tightly sealed in plastic wrap, a bunch of red grapes, chocolate chip cookies the size of dinner plates. Two bottles of iced tea. I’m touched that he put so much thought into our date. And guilty that I haven’t.
“This is great,” I say, grabbing a cookie.
Caleb laughs. “Dessert first? My kind of girl,” he says. He shifts, moving a little closer to me until his knee is touching mine. His skin is warm and tanned.
A picnic on the beach as the sun goes down—it’s like something from a movie. It should be romantic. I should feel happy to be here with him. I am happy to be here with him.
Only why do I have to keep reminding myself of that?
I break off a piece of my cookie. “What happened with Wesley at band practice the other day?” I ask. I probably shouldn’t probe Caleb about this, but maybe if we talk about it, then Wesley will finally vacate my brain. “I thought you guys were friends.”
Caleb snorts. “That dude is no friend of mine,” he says, shaking his head. “Clearly, he knows nothing about the bro code.”
Bro code?
“You never go after a friend’s girl,” he says. “And being honest about his feelings does not make it honorable.”
Wait, what? Is he referring to me? Is he telling me that Wesley has feelings for me? That I’m the reason they’re no longer friends?
I think so.
Caleb’s watching me closely, gauging my reaction. I’m trying very hard not to show any emotion, but my heart is jumping in my chest. I don’t know how to process what he’s just told me, what it means. And I don’t have a chance to, because Caleb leans over and kisses me.
And it’s not terrible. It’s better than the last time. Nice enough that I let him push me back on the blanket. We make out, but I can’t seem to let go and enjoy it because all I’m thinking about is Wesley. I’m obviously holding back and I guess Caleb senses that because after a few minutes he pulls away.
We lie on our backs, looking up at the sky. It’s too early for stars, but I can see the ghost of the moon. The air between us has changed slightly, grown cooler by a few degrees.
Caleb is doing everything right. Any girl would be lucky to have him. But I’m not any girl. And he’s not Wesley. And I can’t do this.
I sit up, gathering my thoughts as I brush off the crumbs from the cookie I never got around to eating, crushed into a million pieces beneath us. I’m completely disgusted with myself for allowing things to go this far with Caleb, when I should have just listened to what my heart was telling me all along. I may not be able to have Wesley, but that doesn’t make Caleb a consolation prize.
“What’s the matter?” he says warily.
“This isn’t going to work. I’m so sorry.” I shift away from him. My first instinct, always, is to run, and I have to fight hard against that feeling now. But I owe it to Caleb not to.
His face darkens. “You’re breaking up with me?”
I’m not sure we’re actually breaking up, since we were technically never really together. Technically or not, though, I’ve obviously hurt him, and I feel like the worst person ever. I nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Is this about Wesley?” A muscle in his jaw ticks.
I swallow. “Yes.”
Caleb kneels and starts to chuck the food back into the picnic basket, muttering under his breath.
I’m making a complete mess of this. I have zero experience breaking someone’s heart. It’s awful, knowing that I’m responsible for the hurt on his face. I can only hope that one day he’ll hate me a little less than he does at this moment.
“You know they’ll get back together, right?” Caleb says. He stands up and yanks the blanket out from underneath me, sending sand flying everywhere. “They’ve broken up before. It never sticks.”
I blink. “What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head. “What, you didn’t know Wesley and Jolie broke up?” He laughs. “I guess the two of you are in for a fairy-tale ending.”
“Caleb, really, I’m sorry. I just—”
“You know what, Quinn?” Caleb says. “I’m not interested.” He gathers the blanket into an untidy bundle, picks up the picnic basket, and glares at me. “You two deserve each other.”
Then he storms across the beach, leaving me with the sand and the sunset and a whole lot to think about.
* * *
I’m in my pj’s, eating a huge slice of Aunt Celia’s walnut cake when Mom gets home from work.
“What a night,” she says, collapsing beside me on the couch.
She can say that again. I’ve been vacillating between feeling awful at how terribly I’ve treated Caleb and happy that Wesley and Jolie have broken up. And then to despair, because what difference does it make? It doesn’t really change anything between Wesley and me.
Mom reaches over and swipes a bite of my cake. We’ve never talked about what happened the night of the Jameses’ going away party, or what happened between her and dad afterward. But for the first time ever, I think I’m ready to.
“Did you know the Jameses are back in town?” I ask her. “I work with Wesley.”
Her eyebrows lift. “I knew they were back—Celia mentioned he’d called—but I didn’t realize you worked together. That must be nice for you. You two were such great friends.”
I shake my head. “Not so great.”
“What do you mean?”
Although I’d confided a little in Gran about Wesley, I’d never told my mom the truth about what happened between us. My dad is always a touchy subject. But if I’m going to move forward, if I’m ever going to forgive Wesley, then I have to clean out the wound.
“That night at the going away party, Wesley and I were hiding in the apple tree. We got into a fight about something”—I’m not about to tell her that we fought because I tried to kiss him and he backed away—“and I broke his magic wand.”
“Okay…”
“Anyway, he got mad and he told on me.”
She nods. “I remember that. I told him you’d buy him another wand out of your allowance.”
“And he said not to bother. Then he said that he hoped Dad found another job soon. And when I asked him what he meant by that, he told us his mom mentioned Dad had been fired.”
That was when I freaked out. Full on broke down. From the pained look on Wesley’s face, it was evident that he didn’t realize we didn’t know, but the damage was done just the same.
That was the end of my family.
“Right.” Mom looks confused. And I’m confused by her confusion.
“So if Wesley hadn’t opened his big mouth and told you, then you wouldn’t have ever known Dad was out of work. He could have gotten another job before you found out. You’d still be together.”
Instead, the night of the party, my mom wouldn’t even let Dad come back to the house to get his stuff. She packed it all up herself and sent it to Gran’s. His entire life, crammed into two suitcases.
Mom’s face softens. “Quinn, honey. That’s not what happened.”
“I was there, Mom. I remember it perfectly.” All too well, in fact.
Mom sighs and I can see she’s weighing her words. “Sweetheart, I already knew your dad had lost his job. He told me right before the party started.”
Um, what?
“It wasn’t the best timing. People were arriving and I was completely frazzled. But I guess he was worried it might come out that night, so he felt he had to tell me.” She reaches for my hand. “It was the last straw. I told him I wanted a divorce before Wesley’s family even arrived.”
My stomach drops. I’ve spent years blaming Wesley for the demise of my parents’ relationship, years believing that he’s the reason we’re not a family anymore. And it turns out that I’ve been punishing him for something he isn’t even responsible for.
“Your dad and I had problems long before that night,” Mom says. “He lied to me, for so long.” Her face tightens and I realize that she’s still a long way from forgiving him. So I guess I know where my issues with forgiveness come from. “Relationships are built on trust. Without that, you’ve got nothing.”
She’s right, of course. I couldn’t let Dad be the villain—even though losing his job was 100 percent his fault—so instead I cast Wesley in the role. I’ve always been too willing to overlook my dad’s shortcomings—and look where that’s gotten me.
“So you can let Wesley off the hook now,” Mom says.
I close my eyes. Letting him off the hook is the easy part. Fixing what I’ve broken is going to be much harder.