Page 120 of Insincerely Yours
Upon entering the restroom, my eyes are assaulted by a massive metallic clock taller than my body. Lovely. I see I’ve been playing Good Cop/Bad Cop with Wes’s parents for over half an hour, and they show no signs of ending the interrogation anytime soon. I want to be annoyed with them, but I’m really just frazzled. As bizarre as their drop-in may be, at least theycare. Some unsavory people have obviously preyed upon certain family members, and they’re just being protective of their son.
Meanwhile, I haven’t spoken to my family in days apart from Derek, and he doesn’t even live in the house. Granted, my dad was the only other person I tried contacting, but my text messages and voicemails have gone unchecked. I’d like to blame it simply on him being too busy on his trip, except I heard him talking to Vanessa when she called him from the kitchen yesterday. Maybe I just have awful timing…or maybe no one in my house wants to hear from me. So, here I stand, taking refuge in a public bathroom with only my sweating palms and shaking hands to keep me company.
God, I sound as pathetic in my head as I feel.
Hiding in one of the stalls, I pull out my phone to see if one of the notifications is from my dad.
No such luck.
My mood doesn’t improve as I hear the other ladies in the restroom gossiping. They’re not saying anything mean, but they are talking about a particular family. The reminder of what I have to return to in a few minutes only has my heart rate ticking up a notch.
I’m not sure if it’s my fight-or-flight response or something else, but I find myself pulling up the contacts on my phone, my finger hovering over Jase’s number.
I know I can’t call him. Are the Holbrookes making this whole situation horribly awkward? Yes. Do I want to run out of here screaming“Fire!”? Yes. But that wouldn’t be fair to Wes, and I need to prove more to myself that I’m capable of handling this on my own. I’ll be forced into uncomfortable scenarios for the rest of my life, and I can’t run away from them all. I need to learn how to cope.
I’m about to tuck my phone back into my clutch when I remember what Jase said before I left the house.
I can’t call him.Literally.
His number is blocked on my phone.
The information has my hands going still, along with the rest of me, because I don’t recall doing that. Maybe I’m just masochistic, but even after the whole Dogfight drama I still couldn’t bring myself to block him. A stupid, tiny part of me held out hope that he’d reach out, that he’d apologize and have an explanation, that I hadn’t just imagined he cared.
But Jase has weaseled his way into my thoughts every now and again over the years, usually when I’ve been drinking. I wonder if maybe I finally blocked him out of spite one night and was just too shitfaced to remember.
I go into my phone’s settings and pull up the log for the numbers I’ve blocked, only…
Jase’s isn’t on here.
I go back to my contact and hit the call button before I can think better of it, waiting to hear his sarcastic drawl on the other line, but I’m sent to his voicemail—the same thing that happened to Jase when he called my number earlier. I check my inbox just to make sure, only to see his message isn’t there even hours later.
What the hell?
Raucous laughter startles me out of my stupor, and I realize how long I’ve been in here. Shit. I shove my cell back into my purse when something catches my eye. The inside of my clutch is black, as are my wallet and phone case, yet a slip of neon pink gleams from the bottom of the handbag. I fish it out to see it’s a folded-up sticky note.
In handwriting that hasn’t changed in four years, it reads:
You look beautiful, as always.
A confusing blend of warmth and tightness floods my chest. The only time I left my handbag unattended had been when I answered the door for the delivery man, after Jase had seen just how nervous I was. He didn’t take the time to write something trying to undermine Wes or scribble down something unsuitably flirtatious. He simply told his old friend what he knew she needed to hear.
When I returnto the table, Wes’s parents continue with their line of questioning, though Mr. Holbrooke takes the baton this time. As expected, he’s far more amiable than his, uh, “blunt” wife. I don’t feel like he’s a cop and that a rickety old lamp should be swaying over my head. But even when Mrs. Holbrooke interjects, I don’t find my palms sweating uncontrollably, and my fingers don’t tremble as I reach for my glass of water. It may have something to do with the square of paper pressed into my free hand under the table. Yes, I know it’s cheating, but it feels like a strange little security blanket. Feeling the folded note scrape against my palm, having my mind replay the words printed across it, I find Blythe’s voice dimensioning from my thoughts.
So what if this date goes badly? Who cares if Blythe plans to ridicule me later for it? How would that be different from any other day? If it’s not this, she’ll just find something else to belittle me over. The idea shouldn’t be a reassuring one, but Jase’s words feel like both an anchor and a conduit. I picture that note as if it’s made of foam, allowing me to channel that negativity out of my system and onto the piece of paper.
Fuck Blythe. I won’t let her ruin this. I won’t let her ruin my night or my summer. Not anymore.
CHAPTER 28
PERFECT
PRESENT
The sticky notemay have been tucked back into my clutch over an hour ago, but I’m still calm. Wes’s parents eventually left, letting things proceed as normal. He’s been a gentleman, I haven’t made too much of an ass out of myself, and we’ve shared a few laughs. Now, as Wes pulls into my driveway, I can safely say this was nice despite its bumpy beginning.
“Once again, I would like to sincerely apologize for my family,” Wes says for the hundredth time, though at least now he’s smiling when he says it. He wasn’t during the first fifty. “I’d like to say that won’t happen again, but sadly, I can’t promise anything. You still haven’t met my siblings…or extended family.”
“Again?” He’s not the only one smiling. “Does that mean you’d like me to meet them?” I tease.
