Page 32 of Dibs
Tara shakes her head adamantly. “Stop talking like that. As soon as you can handle being in the same room with Sean without punching him or verbally eviscerating him, you’re coming back to our Christmas party. After all, I make the guest list.” Tara beams brightly and does a shoulder shimmy that makes me giggle.
“When Deacon punched Sean?—”
“And broke his nose so bad he needs to have surgery,” Tara interrupts.
I cackle in delight. “What? Surgery?!”
“He had a broken nose as a kid and should have gotten surgery to fix his deviated septum eons ago. This punch pushed him over the edge, and now he can’t wait any longer to fix it. He’s got surgery scheduled for next week.” Tara hides her grin with her hand. “Oh, I’m for sure going to hell, because when I found out, I almost peed my pants laughing.”
“See you there! Anyway, I’d love to come back to the party. I’m sure his mistress will be present and ready to pop by then, though.” The thought of it turns my stomach.
“Hey. I believe in your ability to ignore them and focus on your happiness. By then, you and Deac will be together, and that will take precedence over everything else. All the bad memories will fade, and you’ll be able to see Sean again and only mildly want to throttle him. Or maybe you’ll want to thank him for finally fucking up bad enough to push you into Deacon’s arms. Where you always should have been. Sean and Deacon will figure things out, or they won’t. Deac is a part of our family, and so are you. You’ll both be at the Christmas party. Oh, hey! Cody got you this!”
Tara digs into her oversized purse and pulls out a small box containing a familiar, beautifully frosted cupcake with a cherry on top.
“Bananas Foster?” I ask, in awe. When she gives a nod of confirmation, I do a happy dance in my chair.
“That hubby of yours is too sweet. Please thank him for me,” I tell Tara as I accept the cupcake. Cody travels for work and nestled by the train station is my favorite cupcake shop, where this one was purchased. It’s my all-time favorite dessert.
“Please tell me I can eat this right now!” I grab the package and wait for Tara’s okay to rip it open. I want to sniff it like a total lunatic and then shove it in my mouth without a fork and knife.
Tara tells me, “Do it to it, girl,” and I pull off a chunk and shove it in my mouth so hard, the frosting almost goes up my nostrils. Tara’s kind enough to jump up and grab napkins for me as I close my eyes in total pleasure, my eyelashes fluttering as I savor the flavors on my tongue.
Sean had a way of making me feel guilty for enjoying dessert as a woman who dared to be a size bigger than he thought I should be. He regularly threw away my leftovers from restaurants I loved, his way of telling me to avoid the carbs. I could never be skinny enough or big-boobed enough for him, despite having normal-sized, full breasts in proportion to the rest of my frame. The fucker spent eight years pressuring me to get a boob job.
I pull out my phone and text Cody to thank him.
“I just told your hubby I love him. Don’t mind me. That was the most incredible cupcake.” A sigh escapes me. “Tara, I feel good. I really, really do.”
“Well, great. That’s what you deserve. You were a great girlfriend to my brother, and he should have treated you like the goddamn queen you are—” she glances over to see a young girl and her mom glare her way for the foul language and lowers her voice. “The lovely queen you are. And I think you know who’s going to treat you better. Who’s going to give you the world. Even a boat, it seems.”
Tara reaches across the table and takes my hands. “Girl, just let things work out, will you? How can I convince you to look at Deacon and see him for the love of your life he’s going to be?”
I press my lips together into a thin line, my heart beating faster as I remember the morning I awoke pressed against him, and all the flutters and feelings that had overtaken me that day. He was like a cupcake I couldn’t wait to dig into, but I’d been trying not to eat it for so long, I don’t know where to begin. Okay, that’s a terrible analogy. But he is.
“Don’t tell him I know,” I beg Tara, my hands held together as if I’m praying. “Please, please don’t. Let me take a little more time to get my head screwed on right.”
Tara grumbles and calls me a pussy under her breath, and the mom and tot nearby move to another table.
“Congrats, you drove them away with your filthy language,” I tease her.
“Good, because I don’t need that kind of negativity. You need to nut up and just kiss the man, will you? Tell him you heard what he had to say and that you’re intrigued. He’s waited so long for you. God forbid you wait too long only to find he’s moved on.” She bites her lip as she shrugs. “Hey, it could happen. He’s dated a bit in the last decade. Pining has to have an expiration date—don’t wait until it’s the day after.”
My heart twists painfully, and I press my forehead against the table, wanting to bang my head on it but not wanting to cause a scene.
“What if I suck at being his girlfriend? What if I disappoint him?” I worry aloud, my temples aching.
“Think about how well you treated my shitbag brother and ask yourself how much more you’d spoil the actual love of your life.”
I bang my head lightly. “I just keep worrying I’m going to fuck everything up and ruin our friendship for nothing. What if we only work as friends?”
“Girl, if you don’t try, how are you ever going to know? You’re talking crazy, like you’re trying to convince yourself not to go after the man of your dreams. Why are you cock-blocking yourself? Do you not think you deserve to be loved?” Her voice conveys a gentle empathy, and she covers my hand with hers as I struggle against tears again.
“Oh, Tara. I'm fucked up in all the same ways most people are. Not thinking I’m good enough, though knowing I’m way toogood for Sean, for the record.” I harumph as Tara’s cell phone rings, and she holds up her finger to tell me she has to take this one.
She steps away and says, “Hey, boss,” while I glance at my notifications. Deacon had just hearted the recent photo of me that I uploaded to my social media. My first solo photo in ten years. Comments on the photo are about my beauty, how happy they are for me to have gotten away from Sean, and how shitty he was. I’m grateful for my friends who cheerlead for me when I’m at my lowest point, and some of them have given Sean creative, endearing nicknames. “Dr. Dickweed” makes me giggle into my matcha, and I don’t mind the flaming pile of dog poop GIF a college friend says reminds her of Sean.
Tara sits back down with a glum look. “I have to get to work. A situation exploded, and they need me back today instead of tomorrow. Total day-ruiner. It was great to see you. Listen, give Deacon a chance. You’ve spent nearly ten years with Sean’s fake version of love, when the real thing is waiting. You know I’m right.”
