20
I was done crying by the time I settled on the couch between Beth and Amy. Meredith made comfort food for us, and I sat there with a blanket pulled up to my chin and a bowl of mac and cheese on my lap. My feet were stretched out on Amy’s lap, and she was almost asleep. It wasn’t even eight yet but I was ready to go to bed, too. Jo was sitting on the floor with her laptop on her legs, and I wasn’t mad at her anymore. I couldn’t blame her for not caring about something she didn’t understand.
Selfishly, I wished for someone to break her heart, but then I took it right back. I wouldn’t wish that on her. I changed the name in my head and wished into the universe that Bell Gardiner would have her heart broken. I didn’t take that back.
“There’s a car in the driveway,” Meredith said. She leaned over and pulled back the thick curtain covering the front window.
I took another bite of noodles and cheese and waited for the headlights to disappear in the window. Since we lived in a cul-de-sac, people often used our driveway to turn around.
I heard a car door shut, and Meredith used her legs to push in the footrest of Dad’s recliner.
“It’s a man,” she said.
My first thought was that my dad was home early to surprise us, but that wasn’t likely; he knew how much Meredith hated surprises.
“Who is it?” Beth asked.
“I can’t tell . . . it looks like John—”
I shot up from the couch and ran to the window, bowl in my hand and all. I saw John Brooke walking up my yard, wearing his uniform and a serious expression across his familiar face.
“What is he doing here!” My voice came out as a screech, and Beth was by my side in an instant.
Amy’s face twisted in horror. “Oh, no! Meg, he’s here and you’re wearing that.”
I looked down. My flower-print shorts and pink tank top couldn’t have been further from what I had planned on wearing when I saw him again. Why the hell was he here? Wasn’t his string of emails enough?
Beth took the bowl of mac and cheese from me just as his knuckles started tapping on the front door.
“Don’t let him in!” I shouted into the panic filling the room.
“That son of a—” Meredith started.
“Why not? Maybe he—” Jo started, too.
I couldn’t think straight. Why did I take my makeup off? My eyes had to be swollen. Why was he here?
“Yes or no, Meg?” Meredith asked when she was on her feet.
I thought about it for a second. Should I say my piece to John Brooke? Should I let him have it for breaking up with me over email, then showing up to my house?
He knocked again.
“Let him in,” I said, hating that I looked like shit.
Jo was a statue, sitting on the floor still, typing away.
My mouth tasted like truffle, and I knew I smelled like a mushroom and looked like hell. My fingers smoothed over my hair as Meredith opened the front door.
“Hey, Meredith, how are you?” John’s voice was so deep.
Meredith turned to look at me, and John stepped into the light. He was wearing his West Point uniform, and his hair was cropped shorter than I’d ever seen it. His blue eyes found me, and I couldn’t help the cry that ripped through my lungs and splattered all over the floor. John’s face fell and he moved toward me, his hat in his hands.
I turned around and rushed down the hallway to my room and slammed the door behind me. Heavy footsteps pounded toward me, and a soft knock touched the door, but John opened it before I could respond.
“Hey,” he said shakily.
I stared at him in all his West Point glory. His entire body seemed to have grown from the last time I’d laid eyes on him. The gold buttons on his gray uniform were so shiny. He looked so polished, and I . . . well, I looked like a damn mess.
“What do you want, John?” I hoped that I sounded intimidating and in control, not like a nineteen-year-old who’d just spent the last two hours crying over a boy.
Except John didn’t look like a boy anymore. He looked like a man.
“What? Meg, what’s going on?”
I ignored the voice in my head telling me to look in the mirror on my vanity. Seeing my mess of a self would only make things worse.
“What’s going on?” I laughed. “You tell me, John. What the hell is going on? Why did you even come here?”
His reddish-blond brows pulled together over his light eyes, and he took a step backward, toward my door.
“Go ahead and leave if you want to!” I yelled at him, all sense of sanity going out the window closest to me.
“What the hell? You knew I was coming. We had plans, remember?”
“Yes! We did. But you’re confused, remember? You must be so confused that you forgot to email me and say you’re coming after all!”
I felt my legs getting weaker the louder my voice went. I sat down at the edge of my bed and put my head in my hands.
“Meg.” John’s voice was soft. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came to pick you up so we could go to the Quarter for the weekend. I just got in, picked up my car, and came here.”
I looked up at him. What?
Was he lying? I looked at the clear confusion on his face and the tiny movement in his shaking hands. I didn’t know what to make of this.
“Are you trying to tell me that you changed your mind?”
John walked toward me, and I flinched when he grabbed my hands. He dropped them. He knelt in front of me and I focused on the structure of his gray uniform, the brown stitching, the high collar reaching up under his neck. His face was red, it always was a little, but he really did look confused.
“Meg, please tell me, what’s going on?” John’s soft voice touched me in featherlight caresses, soothing my anger from his rejection.
“You emailed me.” I grabbed my phone from under my pillow where it was charging and yanked it toward me.
“Emailed you?” His freckled hands grabbed mine and wrapped around the phone and my trembling hands. I pulled away and he let me, and I opened the email chain.
Holding the phone in my hand, I lifted the screen to him. His fingers wrapped around the sides of my iPhone and his eyes strained to read the small font.
A few seconds later he started shaking his head. “I didn’t send that. I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that, Meg.”
I looked at him and let his claim sink in. Was he lying? I searched his eyes and I couldn’t tell. Who would do this to me if he didn’t?
Shia was the first person who popped into my head.
Was that possible?
“Meg, look at me.” John’s fingers lifted my chin so I looked into his eyes. “Meg, I’ve missed you so much. I came here expecting you to be happy to see me.”
He half laughed and my mortification sank in. Of course John wouldn’t do that to me.
I took my hands from my lap and brought them up to his head. “Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’m happy to see you.” I ran my long nails over the sides of his short hair and down his smooth, freshly shaved face. “I missed you so much.”
His eyes closed when my fingers ran over his mouth, and his lips parted under my touch, blooming into a smile. I didn’t kiss John, even though I wanted to. He didn’t kiss me either, but he was never the most affectionate anyway.
I heard a voice outside the door, and it didn’t even bother me that my sisters were being nosy little shits. I didn’t care. John was here, right in front of me, and freshly minted from West Point.
I sighed, remembering my ungodly appearance. “I looked very, very different earlier before the whole email thing.”
“You look fine. Beautiful.” John reached for my cheek and ran his knuckles across my skin. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
Anxiety swirled in my chest. I hadn’t planned on letting John see me without makeup anytime soon, if ever.
I asked him to give me a few minutes to pack my bag for the weekend and sent him out to socialize with my family. When he opened the door, Amy and Jo were busted eavesdropping, but he just laughed and gave Amy a salute. As they walked down the hallway, I heard John explaining his old-fashioned uniform to Amy, and my mind immediately had me wondering how he would fit into my family. He was so calm, even after my yelling at him in front of them.
If that had been Shia and I accused him of something he didn’t do, he would fight me tooth and nail and make me grovel for his forgiveness. Shia was too emotional, too headstrong. John Brooke was strong, too, but in a gentle way.
John Brooke was good for me, he really was.