Ex and the Single Girl (42 page)

“
No, it wasn
’
t.”
I blinked. Damnit. Shouldn
’
t a person just run out of tears after a while? “
I did it deliberately.”

He was quiet for a bit, then, “
What do you mean?”

“
I mean, I was a coward.”
I swallowed. This hurt worse than I thought it was going to, mostly because of the extent to which Peter deserved better. “
I mean, I wasn
’
t in love and I didn
’
t want to admit that the problem was me. So I drove you away On purpose. Well, subconsciously o
n
purpose.”

He stared past my shoulder into the window display we
’
d built together. “
I
’
m not sure I understand what you
’
re saying. Are you saying you didn
’
t love me?
Ever}
”

I wanted to tell him I had, as much to make him feel better as to make me look bette
r, but he
’
d earned the truth. “
I wanted to. I tried. I should have. There
’
s no reason not to love you, Peter.”
He held up his hand and I could see his face harden. “
Oh, please don
’
t give me the
‘
it
’
s not you, it
’
s me
’
crap.”

“
I
’
m sorry,”
I said. “
I didn
’
t
know any better. I didn
’
t know what it meant to love someone. I felt strongly for you, and I thought it was love, but I didn
’
t know. I didn
’
t have anything to compare it to.”

He nodded slowly. “
And now you do?”

I didn
’
t say anything.

“
And how long have you
known this?”

“
How long have I known?”
I laughed feebly. “
Or how long have I been willing to admit it to myself?”

“
I
’
m glad you can find humor in this,”
he said. I could hear the bitterness in his voice, and while it hurt, I could hardly blame him. “
I
’
m so
rry,”
I said again.

“
Yeah,”
he said. “
Me, too.”

We stood there in silence for a long time, then he turned and walked back toward the Mizzes
’
. I watched until he walked out of my sight, then I turned and headed up the stairs toward my apartment.

I stepped out from the back door onto the lawn and the stiletto heels on my strappy shoes immediately sank an inch into the ground. I stood up on tippy toe and peered over the heads of the partygoers, smiling as I saw Mags in the back talking to Br
idge. The week had been full of scheming and conspiracy, and while that typically wasn
’
t my thing, it served as a fine distraction from all the men fleeing Truly, Georgia
—
Peter for Boston and Ian for London. Peter
’
s departure was sad, but all agreed it wa
s
necessary. Ian
’
s was not spoken of, and we all pretended it was just a blip on the radar, soon to be forgotten.

That was the hope, anyway. The truth was, any moment in which my thoughts weren
’
t properly diverted, they turned to Ian. I imagined him on the plane, flying over the Atlantic, memories of me fading with every first-class cocktail. The only thing for me to do was throw myself into figuring out my future, deceiving my most beloved aunt,
and planning the party.

Not necessarily in that order.

The door opened behind me and Bev stepped out, smoothing her hands over her blue cardigan sweater.

“
Has she figured it out yet?”
I asked.

“
She knows something
’
s going on,”
Bev said. “
She
’
s doing
a Tar
ot
reading right now trying to figure out what it is.”

I smiled. You gotta love Vera.

“
Okay, then. Are you ready?”

“
Ready,”
she said, holding up the Love Kit. We each headed out to our positions
—
she at the liquor table, me on the other side of Bridge.

“
Bri
dge!”
I said, raising my arms and throwing them around his neck. “
I
’
m so glad you came.”

Bridge hugged me back, but I caught an uncomfortable expression on his face when I pulled away. I put my arm through his.

“
Don
’
t look so scared, darlin
’,”
I said in ho
neyed tones. “
The night is lovely, the drinks are cold, and the party
’
s just getting started.”

“
You can hardly ask for better,”
Mags commented.

“
I ain
’
t scared,”
he grumbled, raising an eyebrow at Mags. “
But I have a feeling I
’
m being worked on pretty good
.”

I gave him a playful smack on the arm and started to say something when his face went slack. I looked up.

Vera stood frozen at the back door. She looked beautiful, wearing a long blue dress which, unlike most of her drapery- style clothes, clung in all
the right places. Her eyes were locked on Bridge, and his on her. I leaned over and grabbed Mags
’
s arm, pulling her close.

“
You better go get her or she
’
s gonna run,”
I whispered. Mags grabbed Bridge
’
s almost-full beer.

“
Let me get you a fresh one, Bridge.
”

Bridge didn
’
t even notice. Mags hurried toward the house. When she was about halfway through the throng of partygoers,
Vera took a step forward. Mags froze and looked at me. I exchanged glances with Bev, who was smiling.

“
Vera,”
I said when she reached u
s. “
Look who decided to show up for my going-away party.”

“
What a surprise,”
she said, giving me a long look. Finally, she raised her eyes to Bridge, and smiled. “
Hello, Bridge.”

“
Vera.”
Bridge lifted his hand as if to take a drink, but there was nothing t
here. He stared at his empty hand for a second, then lowered it.

“
Where is Mags with that beer?”
I said, moving away. “
Honestly, that woman would lose her head if it wasn
’
t attached. I
’
ll be right back. You two...talk.”

I rushed away, waving Mags over to t
he liquor table.

“
I don
’
t want to be too obvious,”
I said when I reached Bev, keeping my back to Bridge and Vera. “
How does it look?”

Bev leaned to the side, peering around me, then returned and gave me a smile. Mags scurried over.

“
What do you think? S
uccess?”

Bev gave a serene smile. “
We
’
ll have to wait and see.”

“
Give him his beer back,”
I said to Mags. “
He
’
s gonna need it.”

“
Oh! Yes, of course,”
Mags said, hurrying off.

“
And report back!”
I called after her. She gave me a thumbs-up and headed over to
where Bridge and Vera were talking, each of them wearing a tentative smile. I turned back to Bev.

“
I think this might actually work,”
I said.

“
It just might,”
she said.

I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, staring at Bev. She glanced at me sidewa
ys.

“
Stop eyeballing me, child. You got something on your mind, speak up.”

I smiled, suddenly overwhelmed with love for the cranky old bat.

“
I was going to give you a big lecture, actually,”
I said. “
All about how I have to live my own life, do my own thin
g, and you can
’
t hold that against me.”

She raised an eyebrow, but was no closer to a smile. “
You been talkin
’
to Mags, I see.”

I leaned forward. “
I
’
d be right to give you that lecture. You
’
ve been acting like a pissy little kid this whole summer.”

Her eye
s flared and she turned to face me. I held up my hand.

“
But, as it turns out, I
’
m not going back to Syracuse. Not right away, anyway. And it
’
s not because of you being a big brat, so don
’
t go thinking I
’
ll let you get away with this kind of crap in the fut
ure.”

Finally. There it was. A small smile. She turned her eyes back to Bridge and Vera, who seemed to be relaxing as they talked.

“
So, what are your plans, then?”

“
Vague. I
’
m changing my dissertation topic, so I
’
ll never finish in time for the faculty job
. I called Rhonda and she
’
s going to assume my lease in Syracuse.”

“
I see,”
Bev said.

I paused for a moment, then went on. “
I heard y
’
all were in the market for a business manager, so if it
’
s okay with you, I thought I might do that for a while. Maybe live
in the apartment over the Page. Figure out my life. Have some fondue.”
I wagged a warning finger at her. “
But it
’
s not a promise of forever, so if I end up leaving again, you
’
d better take it like a lady and be gracious. I don
’
t want any more of this cra
n
ky shit between us, you hear?”

Bev nodded slowly and leaned back in her chair. She was quiet for a long time, and I was about to give her a good nudge to her ribs when she nodded toward the gin
bottle
sitting to my left.

“
Sounds like a drink is in order,”
she said.

I smiled and got two glasses, scooped ice into them, and covered them with gin and a splash of tonic.

“
To the Miz Fallons,”
I said, holding up my drink. Bev smiled, picked hers up, and clinked it to mine.

“
May we reign forever.”

I put my arm arou
nd her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

“
I love you, Grandma,”
I said.

She gave a good-humored scowl and held up her drink to me in a warning fashion. “
Who you callin
’
Grandma, child?”

***

It w
as two in the morning by the time we finished preliminary post-party cleanup. Although Bridge and Vera hadn
’
t fallen into each other
’
s arms and made immediate use of the Love Kit, we did get a promise from him that he would join us for dinner on Sunday ni
g
ht. And Vera had been smiling when she tottered off to bed. That was something.

It was more than something.

After declaring the evening an unqualified success, Mags and Bev talked me into crashing at the house for the night, and we all went to bed. Despite
the good feelings I had from our victory, I tossed and turned all night, my head filled with visions of Ian on his way to London. It was wrong. Didn
’
t he know that? Was he really that stupid? But then, who was I to be pointing fingers about stupid? Memor
i
es of working on the barn, of that first night when we
’
d stayed up in bed talking over two bottles of wine, of the kiss in the rain, crowded my mind no matter how hard I tried to push them out. Finally, at about five-thirty, I gave up. There would be no s
l
eep. There would be no Ian. But at least I had the Page. I got up, got dressed, and stepped carefully over every crack in the sidewalk for the six blocks to the Page.