Chapter 16

I woke up the next morning, and my whole body felt like a smile. I lay there remembering every detail of the date, scrolling back over our route through Hyde Park on my phone.

It was honestly the best first date I could remember. I’m sure my grandmother would be appalled that I’d even call it a date, much less a first one. My parents were social media literate enough for the Age of Tinder Dating to be a logical progression, but they probably wouldn’t have considered last night a real date either.

But it was. Very real.

That knowledge settled somewhere in my belly and fluttered, and I pressed my hands to my stomach, trying to identify the reason for the sudden onset of nerves. I wasn’t a flutterer.

I’d had a few medium-range relationships. At thirty-one, I wasn’t opposed to the idea of finding “the” right guy. In fact, I’d been open to it, choosing guys like Paul who were steady, committed, ready to settle. But Paul had been my second solid relationship to fizzle in two years, and I hadn’t been nearly as upset as I should have been about either failure.

They didn’t even feel like failures, honestly. I had a sense of escape.

That was the flutter, I realized. A little instinct urging me to run from Jack.

What? I sat up and forced myself to check in with each part of my body. Feet, arms, legs, back, and neck all reported in for regular duty. But my hands, head, chest, and stomach weren’t quite right. But neither did they feel wrong, exactly.

Hands…slight tingle, like how they felt when I was at the beach and they were sandy and I plunged them into the cold Pacific to rinse them. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was more like they were putting me on notice. “Hi. We’re extra here today.”

Head was easy. My brain had been replaced by a bunch of balloons, all bright and bobbing.

Chest…hmm. That was less cheerful. A tightness occupied its center. What was that? Was it the contraction around something that had gone missing? Or the presence of something new trying to make space?

I narrowed my focus to my stomach, the noisiest part of the neighborhood at the moment. It was telling me to run, but why? I turned the feeling over, poked at it.

My chest, I realized. My stomach was fluttering because it knew what that feeling in my chest was: I’d given up real estate inside it for the first time. Ever.

Jack had carved out a little room for himself.

I took a deep breath. Okay. This would be okay. I’d figure this out.

Right?

Yes, I would figure this out. But for now, I’d shut up the flutter with some food.

Ranée was already at the table eating cereal. She was dressed in her horse barn clothes. “Volunteering again today?” She nodded and pushed a piece of cereal around with her spoon. “You don’t like it?” I asked, trying to make sense of her mood. Maybe she wasn’t totally awake yet?

“I like it a lot.” She pushed another marshmallow around her bowl and set her spoon down. Then she stared off into the distance.

Okayyyy. I went to the fridge to decide what would make my stomach stop fluttering. Not yogurt. Not eggs. A muffin? Maybe. Bacon? My stomach gurgled. Of course bacon. I pulled out the package and rattled around in the cupboards looking for the skillet and a plate for draining the strips.

I glanced over at Ranée while the skillet heated. She hadn’t moved. “Ranée?”

She sighed. “I’m going to the horse barn. Did you know Paul volunteers there?”

Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t that. “Paul? Like Proper Paul? My Paul?”

“I mean, he’s not really your Paul, right? I thought you were interested in Jack.”

“I am. And no, he’s not my Paul. But I had no idea he rode horses.”

“I guess he used to do it at summer camp a lot. Seems he was recently dumped and he was trying to cheer himself up by going back to a happy time in his life and that meant riding horses, I guess.”

I winced at the word “dumped.” “I broke up with him. I didn’t dump him.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I’m too nice to dump anyone.”

“Maybe I was wrong to tell you to dump him.”

“Are you high?”

“I’m not high.”

“Then maybe you’re having a stroke? I bet that’s it. You’re having a stroke that’s wiping out your short-term memory of the five months you spent nagging me to cut him loose.”

She shrugged. “I admit that I’m rarely wrong about people, but I got Paul wrong. He’s all right. I’m saying I wouldn’t give you a hard time if you date him again.”

“I’m not dating him again. This is why I don’t like to tell you stuff sometimes. I didn’t break up with Paul because you told me to. I didn’t start talking to Jack because you told me to. I have never made a single decision in my life to do anything because you told me to.”

“You should start that bacon.”

I got up and laid some strips in the skillet. “I’m not doing this because you told me to.”

“Understood.” The sizzle of cooking bacon filled the silence for a few minutes. “So is it weird for you if Paul and I both volunteer at the barn?”

“Weird in the sense that it’s a bizarre coincidence, but it doesn’t bother me at all. Wait,” I said, almost running to plop down in front of her again. “Are you trying to tell me you want to date Paul?”

She looked at me like I’d just suggested she go for a naked jog. “Definitely not.”

“Then why are you so stressed?”

“I really like this volunteering thing and I didn’t want it to be awkward for you that he’s there.”

“Nope. That’s it? That’s what you were stressed about?”

She muttered something, but I could make it out plain as day. I made her repeat it anyway. “Sorry, a little louder, please.”

She scowled at me. “I said I was worried I had maybe ruined your dating life because I was wrong about Paul.”

“That last part one more time?”

She rolled her eyes and rose to take her bowl to the sink. “You’re the worst.”

“Just so we’re clear, Paul was nice, but you’re right. He was too boring for me.”

“I’m glad it’s not a big deal if we end up having overlapping hours. I love riding, and the kids aren’t so bad either.”

“I’m sure they’d be honored to hear you say so.”

She flashed a grin in answer then changed the subject. “So you had a date last night. How’s Jack?”

“Fine.” So very fine.

“When are you going to meet him?”

I’d thought about it. Of course I thought about it. That’s why I had an answer ready. “I’m not.”

“Um. What.”

“That’s not what this is. Ten-hour car rides are bad for relationships.”

“But one-hour flights are good for them. Of course you have to meet him.”

“If he lived here, or even kind of close to here, yeah, of course I’d go out with him. But he doesn’t. It’s a moot point.”

“If moot means not meeting him is totally stupid, then sure. Moot point.”

“It’s a fun distraction,” I said. “Joking around with him definitely helped me see why Paul and I were a bad fit. But this isn’t about a relationship. It’s about entertainment.”

“I accept that you believe that right this moment. But is that how he’s seeing this too? We all watch the same movies. I think ten out of ten people in this exact situation would meet sooner than later.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You know I’m not big into defining relationships.”

“No,” she agreed. “You roll with it until the guy refers to you as his girlfriend and then suddenly you’re in a relationship, and then you roll with it a little longer until you break up with him. I know your M.O., girlfriend. It’s a weird personality tic for such a—ahem.” She fake coughed.

“Such a what? Control freak?”

“You said it.”

“That’s not true.” Except it totally was.

Ranée didn’t even bother to call me on it. “Either quit talking to him or start talking about what this thing is.”

“I don’t get this,” I said. “You’re the most commitment-phobic person I know. Why are you pushing me toward this when you can’t stand relationships either?”

“I’m honest about it. I don’t think you know you’re a commitment-phobe too, but you’re as bad as I am.”

“That’s not fair. We’ve been roommates for what, three years? And I’ve had two boyfriends to your zero.”

“I’m straight with every guy I go out with. They know I’m just there for the party. You, however, honestly think you’re open to relationships. It’s what makes you dangerous.”

Ranée was always a direct talker. It was one of my favorite things about her, but this conversation was not my favorite thing right now. But she wasn’t done.

“You pick guys you know you can’t fall for, and then—surprise—you don’t.”

“I know the type of girl you’re talking about. I had friends like that in college, but those girls picked guys who were in relationships and were happy as the side chick because they got all of the perks with none of the work, or they got involved with professors, or dudes in their last year of law school who were going to be gone by the end of the semester so they could break it off. This Jack thing is the first time I’ve ever gotten involved with someone who I legitimately don’t see a future with.”

“Ah ha! You said you’re involved.”

“Oh for—look, haven’t you ever heard of the analogy of the farmer’s breakfast? He had bacon and eggs. The chicken was involved. The pig was committed.”

She wanted to laugh. I could tell. But she wanted to win the argument more. “The whole reason I pushed you to talk to Jack is because he’s exactly the kind of guy you need. He doesn’t take himself seriously, and he doesn’t let you take yourself too seriously either, does he?”

“I don’t take myself too seriously.”

She smacked her palm on the table. “Not with me. But you never let guys see this side of you. You show them perfectly behaved Emily, highly successful Emily, and you never let them see that you are hands down the most ridiculous person I know.” I frowned, and she snorted. “Don’t even try to act offended. Your ridiculousness is my favorite thing about you. But that’s exactly why you never let that side out for these guys. Because then it gives you a point in the relationship where you can say that he doesn’t fully understand you, that you guys aren’t clicking at some level, and then suddenly Paul’s sitting on the curb.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Paul again?”

“Whoever. You know you do this,” she said. “And it’s exactly why you’ve let your real self out with Jack. Because you’re counting on the distance to keep you safe, and that’s not fair.”

Irritation flickered through my chest and my palms started to tingle. It was a warning sign that the adrenaline of a temper tantrum wasn’t far behind. “Why do you even care about my relationship dysfunction? I’m not hurting anyone. Let’s talk about you and why every guy is a party and none of them ever gets a third date.”

“Because I’m a total disaster. Disillusioned with men, heartbroken by a toxic relationship when I was too young, the whole bit. I’m not a mystery.”

I took a calming breath. She wasn’t trying to hurt me, even though it felt like I should be hunkering down in a foxhole right that second. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

She shrugged. “You shouldn’t talk to me about it. But you definitely should talk to Jack and make sure he knows that whatever this is now, that’s all it’s ever going to be.”

She was repeating my words, but it gave me a hollow pang inside to hear her say it.

“I’ll say something to him the next time we talk.”

“When is that going to be?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t make any plans or anything.”

She got a knowing look on her face. “He will. You will. I saw your face last night while you were counting down the minutes until he called, and it said something very different than what your mouth is telling me right now.” She jumped up and gave me a drive-by hug before she pulled a U-turn and sped for the door. “Gotta muck some stalls!”

And then the door closed behind her, and I was alone with my thoughts, which was the last place I wanted to be.