Match Me (8 page)

Chase looked at me, then back at Paul. “I could ask the same thing.”

“Just grabbing a quick bite,” Paul answered. “Meg and I are going out tonight. Later.”

Meg. The girl from the restaurant who traded her kitchen exit access for a drink date. I wasn’t sure why, but I was disappointed.

Chase nodded. “Huh. OK.” He shifted the box from hand to hand and moved his gaze to me. “I was kinda hoping I could talk to you.”

I set my spoon down. “Me?”

He nodded.

Paul cleared his throat. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” He hesitated. “Unless you want me to wait.”

I shook my head. “No. Go ahead. It’s fine.”

Chase and I watched as Paul walked toward the store and disappeared through the double doors.

“So,” Chase said.

“So,” I repeated.

He didn’t say anything.

“Look, I’m sorry about last weekend. The wedding. I should have never come.”

“You really shouldn’t have.”

“I know.” I felt my cheeks redden. “I apologize. It was a stupid thing to do to both you and Angela and I’m sorry I showed up.”

“But I’m glad you did.”

I did a double-take. “You are?  Why?”

A slow grin spread across his face. “I just am. And yeah, Angela was a total bitch about it.” He shrugged. “It’ll blow over. It already has, you know?”

I doubted that very much, given my run-in with Angela, but maybe she was focusing on other things. Like how to steal toys from tiny children.

“Well, that’s good I guess,” I said, nodding. He hadn’t really answered my question but I didn’t care. I was just glad he wasn’t chewing me out.

He sat down on the edge of the bench and set the box down. It was a birthday cake. For Angela.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say hi,” he said. “And tell you that I miss you.”

“What?” The spoon I was holding arrested halfway to my mouth. I felt the ice cream drip off and into my lap.

“We’ve always had something, Bon.” His hand reached out to touch mine. “And just because I’m married now…well…”

I shook my head, thinking maybe I hadn’t heard him correctly. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

“Do you mean…?”

His thumb stroked the top of my hand. “Angela starts a new job next week. She’ll be out of town a couple of times a month. So, if you’re interested…”

It all crystallized for me right there, as soon as his hand touched mine. Maybe I’d been in love with him at one time, but I wasn’t now. I hadn’t been for a long time. Jill was right. He was an excuse for me. He’d dumped me for a woman whose main talent was giving people dirty looks. But he knew I’d never really gotten over him, whatever the reason, and he’d used it to keep me around. To make him feel desired, to feel better about himself. To sleep with me when he was engaged. And now he wanted me to be his mistress.

I wrenched my hand free. “No.”

He pulled back, stung. “Whoa.”

The nervousness I’d felt over seeing him was gone. Cold fury replaced it.

“What the hell do you think I am? Some nice little diversion? Someone you can just play with and toss aside when you’re done?”

“No, I…”

I cut him off. “You know something, Chase Somers? You don’t deserve Angela. And you don’t deserve
me
.”

I stood up, clutching my half-eaten sundae. “I really am sorry I showed up at your wedding. But not for you. For me. Because it just shows what an idiot I’ve been.”

I stared at him for a long moment before dumping the melted contents of my sundae cup down the front of his shorts.

And I walked away.

TWENTY

“You did
what
?”

I unpacked more Barack Obama dolls and put them on the shelf. My shift at Wonder World was almost over and I was working through the last few boxes the UPS man had delivered. “Dumped it in his lap.”

Jill grinned. “Oh my God. Yes! Finally.”

I sliced the box cutter through the tape and flattened the box.

“And you told Paul?” she asked. “What did he say?”

I nodded. “He stopped me in the parking lot. After the ice cream dump. I told him then.”

“And what did he say?”

“That he was in the market for a new best friend.”

Jill grinned with satisfaction. “Good.”

“I was such an idiot, Jill.” I stuffed the box behind the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me what an imbecile I was?”

“Helloooo?” She fished around in her purse and pulled out a pack of gum. “Who has been telling you since forever that he wasn’t worth your time?”

“I know, I know.” She offered me a piece but I shook my head. “But even you didn’t know he was capable of that.”

“True,” she admitted. She unwrapped a piece of Juicy Fruit and popped it in her mouth. “That’s sort of huge. Like, a monumental asshole move. Didn’t know he was capable of that.”

“And, honestly, isn’t the best-friend radar supposed to reveal that kind of stuff? That level of asshole-ish-ness?”

“Inventing words, are we?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Call me Shakespeare.”

She leaned against the counter. It was raining and the store was empty. “Look, I’ve told you over and over again that you were in love with the idea of Chase. Not the boy, not the man. You convinced yourself he was what you wanted. He was the only thing you wanted. And look where it got you.”

Her eyes narrowed and I braced myself for the lecture. I’d told her about the pregnancy scare only under the agreement that she wouldn’t scream and yell at me.

But I’d forgotten about lectures.

“Almost pregnant. Crashing weddings.” She shook her head. “Seriously, Bon. How could you have been so stupid? No protection? What the hell were you thinking?”

But she knew. I’d never thought when it came to Chase. I just felt. And then did. But any way you sliced it, it was stupid and immature and irresponsible. I got that. Finally.

“I know, I know,” I said. “It won’t happen again. Trust me.”

“Damn right it won’t.” She glared at me. “We’re going on a little shopping trip this week. To the drug store. And we’re gonna buy some things that will keep you out of the aisle with the pregnancy tests.”

I almost smiled. “Deal.”

“But, you know,” she continued. “There’s more you should be sorry for.”

“You’re going to make a great mom someday,” I said. “Your guilt trips are spot on.”

“Shut up,” she said. “I’m talking about guys. Other guys. Sabotaging those opportunities with other guys.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. I wouldn’t have gone out with Turtle Killer again or Roberto, regardless, of how I felt about Chase.”

“Right,” she agreed, nodding. “But other men? You never even looked. It was like you had tunnel vision. You only saw Chase.”

She had me there.

“Well, that’s changed,” I announced. I grabbed the cleaner from the shelf under the register and sprayed the glass doll case. “I’m over him. Officially. Completely.”

“Good.” She smiled at me. “You better be.”

I did feel good. It was like the chains of infatuation had been lifted off of me. My feelings for Chase had dragged me down for years and made me do some really stupid things, things that had culminated in the worst week of my entire life. But, somehow I’d broken free.

“So we can move on to phase two,” Jill said.

“Phase two? What was phase one?”

“Phase one was letting go.” She chewed her nail and thought. “We need to move on to phase two pretty quickly. Minimize the possibility of relapse.”

“Trust me. I am not going to relapse.” I said this with confidence. I was never more certain of anything in my entire life.

“Right,” she nodded, still thinking. “But we need to move on. To recovery.”

“Recovery?” I laughed. “Recovery from what?”

“From your monumentally horrific choices in men,” she said. “From bad dates. You need to see that there are good guys out there. Guys like Domenico.”

I shook my head. “Oh, no. I am not going on Match Me again. No way. No.”

“Oh my God.” She snapped her gum. “Just hear me out. I’m not talking about a dating site.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“No, I’m going to set you up on a different kind of blind date.” She grinned and grabbed her purse from the counter. “Be ready. Tomorrow night.”

TWENTY-ONE

I might have broken free of Chase but Jill still had a firm hold around me. Because the next night, I was standing in my bedroom, contemplating the contents of my closet, searching for an outfit for my date.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Jill had said when she’d called that morning. “You’re going to meet in the Cities.”

“What? I don’t go to the Cities. Ever.”

“Well, you also wouldn’t look seriously at other guys. Ever. Things change. Including this.”

“That’s different.”

“I know. This doesn’t involve having to change your whole way of thinking,” she said. “It simply means you get in the car and drive twenty miles.”

I sighed. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Phase two,” she reminded me. “An essential part of developing and nurturing the new and improved Bonnie. You need this.”

I slumped against the kitchen counter, gripping my cup of coffee. “Where?”

“There’s this really great restaurant. Psycho Suzi’s. I texted you the address. Just plug it into your phone—your map feature will get you there. It’s right off 94.”

“I’ll never find it. You know me.”

“Get off on Broadway. Hang a left. Boom, you’re there.”

“And Psycho Suzi’s?” I shook my head. “What kind of name is that? Is this some crack about my mental health over the last month?”

“The last month?” She snorted. “No, the last ten years.”

“Whatever. Fine. And who am I meeting? Turtle Killer’s brother?”

“Ha. No.”

“Who?”

“You’ll know when you see him,” she said cryptically.

“Seriously, Jill. I need to know.”

“Just trust me. Have I ever let you down?”

“Turtle Killer…”

“You picked him!”

I’d forgotten that little detail. “Roberto.”

“Oh, please. There was a language barrier there. Not my fault.”

So there I was, hours later, staring at the contents of my closet. I was going on a date twenty miles outside of my comfort zone. Literally. And with a complete and total stranger. I had no idea what to look for. And I had no idea what she’d told this guy about me.

Maybe it was finally being free of my infatuation, or maybe it was something else, but I took care with my outfit. I picked out a sundress the color of a ripe raspberry and slipped it over my head. I hunted through my closet for shoes, trying to find something other than flip flops. The only nice pair I had were the sandals I’d worn to Chase’s wedding.

I hesitated. Would it be a bad omen to wear those when I was starting my life over? Did I really want any reminders from that very recent chapter of my past?

I held them in my hands and sat down on the edge of my bed. I turned them over, studying them. The one shoe was missing several rhinestones but they still sparkled in the afternoon sun that filtered through my window.

I slipped them on. I stood up and studied my reflection in the floor-length mirror attached to the back of my bedroom door. They worked perfectly with the dress.

I dug my feet in, letting the top strap slide over the tops of my toes. They wouldn’t be a bitter reminder. I wouldn’t let them. They would be a badge of honor, like a scar, scabbed over and healed. They would represent everything I’d lived through and everything I’d survived.

TWENTY-TWO

My VW sputtered along 94, the steering wheel shuddering as I pushed it to 65. The speed limit was 70. I was actually glad to be driving toward Minneapolis. Even though it was mid-week and the end of summer, traffic heading north was abysmal. Rush hour had come and gone and the sky to the west was sliding into dusk but the freeway was filled with trucks and RVs, all making their way north.

I heard a familiar female voice on the radio and I turned up the volume, hoping I could hear it over the chugging of my poor little engine. I sensed a new car in my very near future.

Taylor Swift was rocking a new anthem, something about never getting back together. I smiled as I listened to the lyrics. Somehow, I’d gone full circle in the song department—from crashing a wedding at her urging to nodding my head in agreement as she moaned about a failed relationship being exhausting.

Chase had been exhausting. Being in love with him had been exhausting. Not love, I corrected myself. Infatuation. And even though the song didn’t exactly fit—his marriage made it pretty obvious we’d never get back together—I took the song for what it meant to me. That I was finally done.

I followed Jill’s directions off 94, only consulting my phone once. It was as easy to find as she’d promised. A small building adjacent to the road, with a large fenced patio. Seeing a Polynesian-themed restaurant complete with tiki statues and tiki torches in the middle of Minneapolis was unexpected. I maneuvered my car into the narrow parking lot next to the restaurant and killed the engine.

I sat in the car for a minute and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I should have painted my nails, I thought. I had pink nail polish in one of my bathroom drawers.

I checked my reflection in the mirror. My make-up had held up and my hair looked fine. So what was I waiting for?

But I knew. For the first time in a long time, I was nervous about a date. Turtle Killer and Roberto were different—I hadn’t wanted to go, but I also didn’t worry over much of the details. For me, those dates had been obligations. I’d told Jill I would go and I did. Nothing more. And even though Turtle Killer had reminded me of Chase, I didn’t get tensed up before the date or feel butterflies in my stomach as I walked to the restaurant. Probably because I’d still been wrapped up in Chase. I knew where my heart truly was…or where I thought it was. With him.