Page 16 of If My Wishes Came True
The mojitos I drank tonight certainly seem to think so. But as usual, my broken heart is more convincing. “I’m not looking for more than casual.”
Vanessa sighs. “If you say so. Well, let me know how your coffee date goes, regardless. I’m going to head home and let you get some sleep.”
I give her a hug. “Do you have everything?”
“I tossed my purse on your couch. I’ll go grab it.” Vanessa leans over the sofa, but immediately turns back to look at me. “Wait just a minute—what have we here?”
I walk toward her to see what she’s talking about.
Oh no.My DVDs. Myrom-coms.
When I meet her gaze, she has her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. “You’ve given up on love, huh?”
I cross my arms back at her and tilt my head. “What? I can’t give up on love, but still appreciate good cinema?”
Vanessa chuckles into her fist. “Good cinema?Okay, I am definitely not buying what you’re selling. I know a hopeless romantic when I see one, and this is irrefutable evidence—like the romance novels stacked on my nightstand.”
I shrug. “Maybe I was a hopeless romantic, once upon a time. But I’m not anymore.”
Hunter.
He’s holding the ring between trembling fingers. The floorboards of my college apartment creak when he takes a step toward me. “Jenna, no. Please…I’m begging you. Don’t do this.” Tears stream down his face.
“Can’t you see I’m doing this for you?” I plead with him. “Because I love you more than anything?”
He shakes his head. The light fades from his beautiful ocean-blue eyes. Now they’re dark. Grim. Full of disappointment. Maybe even disgust. And when he speaks, I don’t recognize the voice coming out of his mouth. “You’re not the person I thought you were.”
They’re the last words he says before he leaves. And I know they’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Moving on from heartbreak is easier said than done,” Vanessa continues with a sigh. “Trust me, I know. But you deserve your happy ending.”
The best I can do without bursting into tears is smile and wrap my arms around my new, sweet friend.
But as I’m hugging her, all I can think is—she’s wrong.
The jarring sound of my cell phone startles me out of a hazy dream of bright pink hibiscus flowers and lush green palm trees. I must have forgotten to turn off my ringer last night. After Vanessa left, I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich, drank some Gatorade, and went straight to bed. I know this because there’s a plate of crumbs and a half-full glass on my nightstand. My dress is at the foot of my bed, and all I have on is my underwear.
I glance at the art deco clock on my wall. There’s only one person who would call me at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. I don’t even have to look at the caller ID.
“Hi, Christy,” I mutter into the phone, still groggy.
“Are you okay?” she asks immediately, sounding less like a little sister and more like a mom. Notourmom. Our mom has always been a bit too emotionally checked out to notice what’s going on with us. And even if she did, she’s never been one to dish out maternal advice. But I stopped wishing for thatkind of relationship with her a long time ago. I hardly ever call her anymore. And I rarely hear from her, unless it’s a special occasion. I guess that’s why Christy’s taken it upon herself to check in on me.
“I’m fine. I was out late last night, that’s all.” I sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me so much.”
“Were you on a date?” she asks me after a beat, her tone more hopeful.
I roll my eyes. “No…I was out with friends.” At least I can say that much. Hopefully it’s enough to satisfy my sister. She doesn’t like the idea of me being alone in a new city.
“Oh, good! I’m glad you’re meeting people,” she says, the relief in her voice making me feel totally pathetic.
It’s ironic how the tables have turned since we were teenagers. Christy always wished she were as popular as I was back then. No, she didn’t have a constant entourage like I did—but the handful of friends she had werereallygood ones. They’re all still in touch, and Christy’s been a bridesmaid in two of their weddings so far. I can’t say the same about the girls who worshipped me in high school. Maybe now my sister finally understands how superficial my friendships were.
“And how’s work?” she asks, going down her mental list of weekly questions for me.
“Work’s been good. I got two more referrals this week. I don’t think I’m gonna have any trouble keeping busy.”
It’s the one area of my life I’ve always had success with—if only I enjoyed it.
