Second Chance Hero (24 page)

            “Sorry.”

            “Don't sweat it. I’ll make tea.”

            I follow Jade to the kitchen and sit at
the counter while she busies herself making tea and putting together a plate of
food for lunch. She offers me the plate first but I can't eat; my stomach
hasn’t stopped somersaulting yet, and the adrenaline coursing through me won't
let me calm down.

            “I can't believe this all had to happen
today,” I put my head in my hands, “when I could have gone round there and
asked Deac what his game is. Or when I could have told Kip to stick it without
worrying about this poxy dinner.”

            “Why can't you go and talk to Deacon?”

            “Because he’ll be at dinner tonight and
everything’s going wrong. I feel like it’ll all come to a head.”

            “Have you thought,” Jade asks, biting
into a piece of flatbread. I wait an agonising minute before she continues,
“about going it solo for a while?”

            “Yes. But what’s the point in that?”

            “It’ll give you some time and space to
clear your head.” She continues cautiously, “I can see you're messed up, Jen. I
hate to say it, but everyone can see it. Whether it’s your fault or not, it’s
messing you up.”

            “How did you get so wise?” I manage a
small smile.

            “Inherited it from Grandma. You got
Grandpa’s passion. And Jonas? I think he’s just a typical Welshman.”

~

            I’ve borrowed a dress from Jade; I
didn’t think to take anything in my haste to get out this afternoon. So I’ve
acquired a short black, backless halter dress. It’s effective in hiding the
hickeys from last night, and I borrowed a choker necklace to cover the one on
my neck. I climb out of the back of the car where I’ve been playing ‘I spy’
with Phillipa and walk behind them to Blue Rays. Kip is at the bar with my
parents and Jonas and Grace and we join the group. Kip pulls me into him,
holding me tight, and it seems he’s forgotten the awkwardness earlier; but he’s
thrumming with that annoying energy I noticed over the phone the other day.
He’s bouncing from foot to foot and smiling like a goofball. He runs his hands
up and down my bare back and I shiver. The scorching rage that was exploding
out of me earlier has turned to a burning flame in the pit of my stomach, but I
won't let what happened today slip. But I owe it to my parents to show them
that my head is on straight and I’m not going off the rails.

            “Are you feeling better?” Kip asks,
leaning down to whisper in my ear.

            All I can do is nod, because I can feel
Deacon. I turn to face the door and see him walking in with Emma and Brad. And
Brad is with Rachel. I thought he’d called it quits when she threw herself at
his brother. We went to school together, were in most of the same classes, and
the look she’s giving me tells me she knows something I wish she didn’t know.

            “Jen, you look beautiful,” Emma kisses
both of my cheeks and then Kip’s.

            Kip has to let go of me when Brad pulls
me in for the usual bear hug that takes me off my feet and constricts the flow
of air to my lungs.

            “Rach,” I greet when I’m released and
she nods her greeting, “I didn’t know you were back together?”

            “We’re not,” Rachel and Bradley say in
unison.

            “Who’s this?” Rachel asks, eyeing Kip
from the feet up.

            “This is my – This is Kip.”

            They shake hands and air kiss, breaking
in to conversation about stock markets. It gives Deacon the opportunity to talk
to me, and he approaches slowly from where he was leaning against the bar,
watching me.

            “Jenna.” He leans down and kisses both
my cheeks, his touch igniting the smouldering inside me, “It’s good to see
you.”

            He places his hand on the small of my
back, his mouth still near my ear.

            “You look beautiful.”

            “Thanks.”

            I step back out of his touch, ignoring
how much every nerve in my body is screaming at me to take his hand and run.

            We look at each other in silence, the
sound around us disappearing. It’s just us, and I’m mad as hell. While he’s
composed as ever, sporting the mark I gave him on his neck with pride. He
narrows his eyes, confused by how I’m glaring back at him.

            “Mr. Reid,” Kip bursts the bubble and I
watch as he holds his hand out to Deacon.

            Deacon looks at me, and I know he’s
contemplating causing a scene, and the rage leaves me for long enough to plead
silently with him to be civil. He takes Kip’s hand.

            “Good to see you, Kip.”

            “I’m going to see my parents in the
morning.” Kip says, once we’ve sat down, “Do you want to come see them? I’m leaving
early.”

            “I can't. I’ve got that cake order.” I
look for Deacon and notice he’s sitting opposite me, his presence alone setting
me alight, “Another time.”

            I honestly couldn't care any less about
the cakes; it’s tempting to ruin her anniversary present for the man who’s
sitting so close to me I can feel his body temperature.

            I decided when I woke up this morning
and watched Deacon sleep, that tonight will be my last night as Kip’s
girlfriend. I can't stand the thought of being expected to give myself to him,
while my body, heart and mind belong to someone else. I feel like I’ve been
cheating on Deacon, not the man I’m actually supposed to be able to envision a
future with.

            I know he’s trying to make eye contact
with me, I can feel it every time he moves; my eyes craving to watch every lift
of his wine glass, every movement of his mouth as he talks to our family, and
every time his legs reach out to trap mine, I’m desperate to just disappear
with him, no matter what he’s done, what I’ve done. But I can't get the image
of Elizabeth out of my head; she was so confident she’d wiped out the
competition and I’m almost willing to admit defeat.

            I don't know what I choose to eat. I
know it’s fish, I know we have two courses and I know I manage to eat something.
I manage to avoid anything deeper than small talk, and take Kip’s hand away
from my leg to look at the dessert menu. Well, stare unseeing into it. It’s
then that my eyes give in and flicker above the menu, connecting with an angry
fiery gaze. Deacon is angry with me? Surely he must know that I know. How is it
possible to live in a town so small and attract as many game-playing women as
he does and not realise that one of them will see his games?

            “What?” I mouth, looking at Kip, who is
as usual ignorant to me. As is everyone else, as they discuss what they’re
having for pudding.

            “What’s wrong?” He mouths back, and we
continue a silent conversation.

            “You.”

            “What about me?”

            “Think about it.”

            I turn back to the menu, noticing Rachel
watching us. I glare at her, before the waiter returns to our table and I
settle for the first thing I look at on the menu. Black forest gateaux.
Perfect.

            “I’d like to say something.”

            Kip stands and taps his glass with the
teaspoon from his coffee. I put my hand over my face; my family don't
appreciate grand gestures. Kip announcing his bonus to the whole family is not
something that should be done.

            “I met Jenna at a charity dinner. She
had a table of cupcakes in the grand hall, and I remember seeing this woman in
a waitress outfit with platters of cakes for everyone to try. I’ve never seen
anyone as beautiful as how Jenna looked that night. I think I fell in love with
her cupcakes first, and then got to know the woman behind the apron, and it
would be impossible not to fall in love with Jenna.” He looks at Deacon who is
sitting back in his chair, with his impossibly strong arms folded across his
chest, “We’re not here tonight to celebrate my bonus. We’re here to celebrate
what I bought with my bonus.”

            “Jenna Bethan Nina Rivera,” Kip pulls a
little aqua box out of his pocket, opens it to reveal a white gold ring with a
little diamond in the middle, and drops to one knee. I’m going to be sick, “I
want to marry the girl behind the apron. Marry me.”

            Shit.

            The room falls silent, the entire
restaurant quietens, and time stops for me. I want to run. I want to be sick. I
want to punch him in the face for embarrassing me. Where on earth has marriage
come from?

            “You’re killing me here, Jen,” Kip
whispers, angry.

            Why the hell is angry with me? I had no
idea this was coming, and we are far from ready to get married.

            I look at Deacon, I can't help it. I
need him to save me. But he’s angry too; his jaw is tense, he’s frowning and
his fists are clenched under his arms. One corner of his mouth twitches in a
smirk and anger explodes in my stomach. He thinks this is funny. A game is all
I’ve ever been to him. I look back at Kip, knowing this is not the man I want
to spend my life with, but whisper my answer.

            “Yes.”

            The restaurant erupts into cheers and
Kip stands up, crushing his mouth to mine. The family are painfully quiet, but
one by one stand up to congratulate us. I notice Deacon is gone.

            “Excuse me.”

            I step away from the table and out the
restaurant.

            “Jen?” I stop when I hear my sister,
“Why did you do that?”

            “It’s a step in life.” I mumble and keep
my back to her.

            “That’s bullshit. You marry when you’re
in love. You’re in love with the man whose heart you no doubt just broke.”

            “So I’m not supposed to get engaged?”

            “Not to Kip.”

            “Then go ask him!” I turn to face my
sister, “Go and ask Deacon Reid if he can remember the moment he fell in love
with me, whether he see us together in a monogamous relationship, committed to
each other and only each other. Ask him if he wants to raise children with me,
and watch our grandchildren play in the garden. Ask him if he wants to spend
until the day he dies with me and then we’ll discuss my decision.”

Deacon

            “Jenna Bethan Nina Rivera, I want to
marry the girl behind the apron. Marry me.”

            Fuck.

            Kip’s eyes flicker to me from where he’s
kneeling on the floor, and... Is he really smirking at me? He just gave a shit
excuse for a marriage proposal in front of Jenna’s family and he thinks he’s
got something to smirk about. I sit back in my chair and smile, what a prick.
Jenna’s looking at me too; I can't work out what she’s pissed off about. Maybe
I should have text her today, but I’ve been riding the high of last night and
the last thing I wanted was to send any of the things I was thinking, when
there was a risk of Kip seeing.

            I almost laugh thinking about watching
that smug look on his face disappear when Jenna rejects him, and almost let
myself fantasise about her telling the restaurant full of people what’s
happened the last two weeks. I’d love to see the look on his face when he
realises Jenna’s been cheating on him with her childhood best buddy.

            “Yes.”

            Jenna whispers her answer and if I
wasn’t already sitting down I’d be on the floor. What the fuck? I’m not the
only one shocked by her answer; our table is silent as Kip stands up and holds
the ring out to put on Jenna’s finger. She takes it from him and holds it in a
tight fist.

            I make my exit when everyone realises
they have to actually congratulate them on their ridiculous relationship, and
their equally ridiculous engagement. I manage to unfold my frame out of the
chair without attracting any attention. I don't miss the words ‘I win’ directed
at me, rolling silently off London-Boy’s lips. Bastard.

             The rain is still falling; the heavens
opened this afternoon and haven’t graced us with an ounce of dry air since. I’m
even more pissed off I went to the stupid dinner, now that I have to walk the
long road to the harbour, and then along the harbour to get to my truck. The
truck that still has Jenna’s naked image etched inside it. I walk past the car
park, and walk along the wall to where everything got ruined. I sit on the wall
and look out at the crashing waves in the distance, kicking myself for not just
making Jenna mine the night we were here. She wouldn’t have objected; Jenna
used to do anything I told her. And I wish, that night, I told her never to
look at another man again, because she would always be mine. I should have told
her that night what I envisioned my life to be like. She asked me, when we were
sitting on the wall, what my life plan was. And like the stupid immature
student I was, I lied. I had always imagined Jenna and I in each other’s lives;
and I still wish she’d called me out when I lied. I didn’t want to go off
travelling and open a business in London. I wanted to travel with Jenna and
come back and build her a cake shop. Then eventually I would have helped Dad
run the two offices, alternating between the two so I could treat Jenna to
weekends in the capital, nights in fancy restaurants, and show her off to
everyone I met. But I lied; I let her believe I used her, to save my own
barely-adult feelings.

And now she’s engaged, destined to be a baking
house-wife and child bearer to a snotty stock broker. Jesus.

            I hear whimpers from back down the road
and I know before I look that Jenna is alone and crying. What could she
possibly have to cry about? Isn’t this supposed to be the happiest moment of a
woman’s life? Maybe she’s realised how fucked up this is, because not only can
she not just walk away from someone who clearly doesn’t know the girl behind
the apron, as Kip so pathetically put it. But the fact she’s just agreed to
marry him, yet here she is crying on a wall, like her world is falling apart,
leaves a horrible taste at the back of my mouth.

            I climb off the wall, cross the road and
walk back to the car park. I don't talk to her, don't comfort her. I can't.

            I skip my run Monday morning; I think
I’m still drunk from last night, and if I’m transitioning into hang over, the
last thing I want to see is the newly-engaged running along the beach
hand-in-hand. I force myself off the sofa where I passed out last night and go
to the kitchen for coffee and toast. I have to go into Foster this morning, and
have to sort my head out before I drive my car. I take my coffee to the lounge
and put the football highlights on, trying to block out last night. The
tightening in my chest at the thought of losing Jenna forever has dulled
somewhere in the back of my mind, but I just can't switch it off. After
everything that’s happened the last two weeks; after everything that happened
Friday night, she decides it’s the right time to get engaged. I don't get it.

~

“Another refurb, Jack?”

            I’m sitting in Jack’s, officially hung
over to hell after drinking away whatever I felt last night, in my kitchen, in
the dark. Like you see in movies. It’s working now though, after my coffee and
carb breakfast. I feel numb, I feel nothing but the pounding in my head; it’s
exactly what I was going for.

            “Yeah, the wife wants a back extension.
I think she wants another kid.” He answers, pouring sugar in his coffee, and
there it is. The reminder that my life is in the shitter. I wonder if I’ll be
contracted to create a nursery for Jenna’s kids.

            “Jack, I need to go. You want the job
done, no problem. But I’ve got to go.”

            I pick up the keys for the 4x4 and walk
out, leaving him speechless. The 4x4 was perfect this morning, no member of the
fucked up opposite sex has been in it, and it meant the numbness wasn’t
challenged by the other feelings festering somewhere not too far under the
surface.

            I’m on my way back to the tourist car
park down the road when the icy fire and cold heat surge through my body. She’s
struggling with shopping bags across the street, Mrs. London-Boy-to-be. Why is
she carrying so many bags on her own? I realise I’ve stopped walking towards my
car, and I’m waiting at the kerb to cross the road. A space clears and I run
across, catching up with Jenna easily. I realise as I walk unnoticed a few
steps behind her that it doesn’t matter. I’m more pissed off than I’ve ever
been with a woman, but I don't want a thing to change. I don't want to stop
seeing her and don't want what she does to me to stop. This is so confusing; my
head throbs with tension and now I’m pissed off with myself because I should
walk away. Maybe she’s hoping I will but I can't. I can't switch off what I
feel for Jenna – it’s the only thing I’ve felt for years. And deep down I don't
believe she wants to marry Kip.

            “No fiancé?” I ask, walking behind her,
enjoying the view but hating that it’s not mine to enjoy.

            “Fuck off.”

            I laugh, and I know I’m being an
arsehole but I can't help it. I also step next to her and grab a handful of
bags, noticing her stand up straight and wiggle her fingers.

            “What are you doing?” I ask.

            “What does it look like, Deacon?”

            “Let’s try another question you’ll no
doubt answer with a question or tell me to fuck off. Why exactly are you
telling me to fuck off?”

            “You’ve come to have a go at me, and I’m
not listening to it.”

            “Yeah, that’s exactly it.” I grab her
arm and turn her round so we’re walking back in the direction of my car, “I
followed you out here to watch you struggle with shopping you could have got in
the town you live in.”

            She’s sighs, and walks slowly next to
me. I look at her as we walk, but she refuses to look back, although I can feel
the conflict radiating off her. This woman is a rollercoaster of mind-fucks;
but she looks like shit. I’m not sure how I recognised her from across the
road; I’m sure I have my Jenna-radar to thank for it. She’s wearing leggings
and a long baggy black top, a bag slung over her shoulder and her hair tied up
in a tangle on the top of her head. She’s been crying.

            We walk to the car park in silence, and
when Jenna sees we’re heading towards the car, she reaches out and tries to
grab the bags from me, trying but failing to peel my fingers away from the
plastic. The feel of her skin on mine is incredible, but apparently we’re both
angry with each other, and it’ll take more touching than that to extinguish the
flames we’re throwing at each other.

            “Let’s go,” I open up the car and put
her bags in the back.

            “I’m not going back yet.”

            “You got more shopping to do, maybe some
celebratory cake supplies to buy?”

            “No.” She seethes, “I made
them
this morning.”

            “Put your bags in then, we’re going for
coffee.” She glares at me, but does as I ask and throws her bags in the back,
turning her back to me, and I shut the door, “You know you don't have to take
orders from me, right?”

            I say it, but I can't help the feeling
of triumph when she asks how high when I tell her to jump. It gets me every
time, like she literally can't help doing what I say.

            “What are we going for coffee for?” She
asks, “It’s quite clear you don't want to be around me, and I don't want to be
near you.”

            I ignore her, because I can't explain
how much I don't want to look at her, or be near her. But I feel like I need to
be around her, no matter how much last night hurt.

            I tell Jenna to find a table for us as I
order the coffees and I watch her look around for where to sit while I wait for
our drinks. With two frothy cappuccinos and two chocolate muffins on a tray, I
join her at the table she picked. It’s in the corner, by the window, managing
to be open and hidden at the same time.

            “Why did you do it, Jen?”

            “It’s a part of life.”

            “What are you talking about? That’s a
shit excuse for agreeing to marry someone.”

            “What would you know?”

            Jenna has never sounded so venomous and
I start to think I have done something wrong. No, I haven’t. What the hell is
wrong with her?

            “What was I supposed to do?” She asks,
playing with the foam on the top of her coffee.

            “Say no.”

            “I couldn't. None of this is his fault.
If I wasn’t so messed up to begin with maybe he’d be exactly who I want to
marry. I couldn't embarrass him in front of the whole family. I’d have to
explain everything, and don't you think our families have been through enough
without being humiliated in front of a restaurant full of people?”

            “I don't think they would care.” I grab
her hand and hold it on the table to stop her spilling her coffee, “They’d
think about you being happy first. They wouldn’t give a shit what the town
thinks of them.”

            “I think they’d care if their daughter
became the rumoured village bicycle.”

            I scoff, but she’s serious. She pulls
her hand away from mine, and puts her hands on her lap, leaning over to blow
the steam off her coffee. We’re silent for a long time; me watching Jenna,
Jenna looking anywhere but at me.

            “So that’s it, then?”

            “What?”

            “You're going to stand in a church at
the altar, and promise to love him forever, knowing you’ll never be in love
with him like you’re supposed to be?”

            “I don't know what I’m going to do. But
I think we’ve established it’s impossible for us to commit to each other.”

            “Why is it?” That’s not what she was
saying on Friday. Or in the note I woke up to yesterday morning.

            “Because you're with someone else.”

            “Not this again.” Why won't she just
quit it? “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

            “You can stop playing this game,
Deacon.” I wasn’t aware I was playing a game, “I’ve met her.”

            “There isn’t anyone for you to meet. I
don't see why I have to justify myself when I've told you there isn’t anyone
else. You're the one who’s with someone, not me.”

            I put my head in my hands; I shouldn’t
have said that.

            “Take me home.” She pushes her coffee
away and stands up, “Please. Please just take me home.”

            “Where’s your car?”

            “I took a bus. I’m not interested in hearing
anything anyone in Folquay has to say. Dinner will be ready soon.”

            I scrape my hand down my face. Of course
the usual Sunday dinner would still go ahead. We leave the coffee shop and I
lead Jenna back to the car in silence.

            “You know I won't give up, right?” I
say, shifting the car into gear and reversing out.