Page 47 of Dear Ripley

Joel nodded, registering my words, but clearly mesmerized by Ekundayo.

“Are you two…?”

Joel’s eyes went wide before he frantically shook his head. “No. No. We’re just friends. Not even. I mean, maybe? Sort of friends? I don’t know.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Confident, bold Joel was reduced tothisby a boy he liked. Love was a powerful force, and hadn’t we all been there?

I nudged him with my elbow, thankful that our parents were occupied arguing over which dish they’d liked best the last time they were here. “Maybe you should ask him out.”

“Absolutely not,” he snorted.

I’d been there, too. That place where you felt like the other person liking you back was impossible was oddly compelling, even in the face of contradictory evidence.

I was here for Harlow, but maybe there was something I could do for Joel here too.

As I was debating how to best catch Ekundayo’s attention without Joel feeling like I’d betrayed him, the server walked away, and Ekundayo spun around happily, taking in the restaurant.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to find Joel, almost like magnets. Something twisted in my stomach—a million memories of being that attuned to Ripley, of finding her face in every crowded space.

Ekundayo’s face lit up—quite a feat given that he’d already been looking ridiculously happy to be there before he’d seen Joel. He waved enthusiastically, causing Joel to curse nervously under his breath.

When it looked like Ekundayo was going to come over, Joel leaped out of his seat, dropping his napkin clumsily onto the table. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered. I’d wager he was barely aware the rest of us were even still there.

Ekundayo was the human embodiment of heart eyes as Joel approached him, and, for one moment, I couldn’t figure out how Joel couldn’t see it. Then, my mind reminded me of the early days with Ripley. We’d been equally as clueless. Something about first love, the rush of emotions, the fear, the possibilities, the way your body was so unfamiliar with the sheer rush of emotions… it all made it ridiculously easy to deny what was patently obvious to everyone else.

The pair were too far away to hear as they spoke together. Rather than seeming like a weird stalker, I looked at my menu, barely taking it in as I monitored Joel and Ekundayo in my peripheral vision.

I was fairly certain every single person in Jackson Point was aware they liked each other, no matter how much they tried to play it off as nothing. Or, at least, Joel did. Having never met Ekundayo, I had no idea what he told people.

From the longing looks he shot Joel, however, I had a feeling he was equally as clueless and nervous.

As I sat thinking about the number of people who had made comments to a younger me about Ripley, and how obvious it was that we were into each other—and how many times I’d insisted there was nothing there—the woman herself walked in.

In the moment when my lungs turned to lead—heavy and unmoving—I realized I should have been expecting this. Of course Ekundayo wasn’t the only one we were going to run into tonight. Of course it was going to be Ripley when I was thinking so much about her.

Really, it was odd we hadn’t run into each other more. Jackson Point wasn’t that big, and fate did seem to work like this. One encounter at a grocery store wasn’t much for two people with the same old haunts.

Harlow had made a comment suggesting Ripley was avoiding going to too many places—only home, work, and the grocery store. Places she couldn’t avoid. I’d thought it was a ridiculous idea at first. There was no way Ripley would rearrange her life that much just to avoid me, but, as the days had passed, I’d begun to wonder.

However, here she was. At a restaurant. Clearly not avoiding every place she didn’t absolutelyhaveto visit.

Having read her letter and all of her confessions didn’t make things any easier, either. Not that I’d expected it to. If anything, it just made things more loaded and complicated. Did we acknowledge it? Did we acknowledge each other?

She was with Morgan, of course. Perhaps that was better than it could have been. I’d never been here specifically, but I knew more than enough about Ethiopian food to know it was a shared meal. Morgan was safe. There was no way in the world those two were anything other than friends. They could share food without it making me feel… what, exactly?

I had no right to feel anything about Ripley’s life, or who she did and didn’t eat food with. Was it normal to feel… distressed at the idea of seeing your ex-wife on a date, even eight years later? It was probably nothing.

The two laughed together at the host stand, Ripley waving Morgan’s hand away as Morgan tried to get at her, and a horrible doubt crept into my stomach and my mind, my chest tensing. The two of them were comfortable with each other. They knew each other well. They loved each other. Why was I so sure they’d never be together?

And why did I feel like I had any right to care?

The moment where Ripley looked up, spotted Ekundayo, and moved over to clap him on the shoulder, things made sense in my mind. Ekundayo was the person who’d gotten my disastrous apology note to Ripley. Of course he was. And this explained why Joel had been so cagey about having a friend who could pass it along. It wasn’t a friend, it was a crush. One he was pining after in almost the exact same way I’d pined over Ripley.

The universe was laughing at me.

For a moment, the look on Ripley’s face told me she was putting the pieces together and realizing there was something more between Ekundayo and Joel. I wondered how she knew him and what he’d told her. I wondered whether she was having the same feeling of discomfort I was at how close they were to us, and how close this was to what we’d been. Then, the host reappeared with Ekundayo’s meal, Ripley realized the two weren’t here together, and her eyes scanned the restaurant.

The polite thing to do would have been to look down, look away, look anywhere other than directly at her. But, of course, I didn’t.

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