Page 122 of The Good Girl Effect
My heart feels heavy as I stare at her, watching her eyes moisten.
“My parents flew out immediately to help with the funeral and with Bea, and eventually Jack came back, but he neverreallycame back. He was present, but he wasn’t really here. For nearly a year after she died, he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Not me. Not Phoenix. Not even his Bea.
“I know Jack was grieving the loss of his wife, but I was grieving the loss of my best friendandmy brother.”
“That must have been so hard,” I mumble quietly.
“It was. I moved out,” she says, staring down at her wineglass as she swirls it. “Bea went and stayed with Phoenix for a while. Shortly after that, I heard he planned to move home. He was just going to leave me here. As if none of our life here mattered. When Ronan Kade offered the club to us for a year, I only agreed to do it because I assumed it would change my brother’s mind. I thought it would convince him to stay. It turns out I was wrong.Youwere the one who convinced him to stay.”
My face falls in regret as I reach a hand out and place it on her arm. “You know that if he decides to go back, the life you built here still matters. You can do it without him.”
“I know that,” she replies with a tilt of her head. “But I don’t want my brother to leave. Or my niece. I just want them to be happy, and for the past two months, they have been.”
Her eyes bore into mine, and I understand what it is she’s asking.
“So tell me,” she adds. “What happened between you two?”
With a sigh, I take a long drink from the wineglass. Then I tell her everything. From the night he dragged me out of that club to the night he told me he loved me in the very same spot. I even tell her about the letter and the fight we had the morning he found it two weeks ago.
We polish off the entire bottle of wine before noon, and I should probably feel guilty for how drunk I am in the middle of the day. But with the month I’ve had, I deserve this.
“Okay,” she says, not sounding near as slurry as I do. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
“Nothing,” I argue, setting my wineglass down with a clumsythunk. “That’s what we’re going to do.”
“Listen…” she says, putting her hands out. She doesn’t seem tipsy at all, but she does appear more relaxed, like she won’t claw my face off or stab me in the throat. “My brother has some groveling to do.”
“Groveling…no. Healing…yes,” I say, pouring the last few drops from the bottle into my glass. “Elizabeth, the fact of the matter is…I did keep a secret from him. Sure, it was just a letter, but that letter served as a reminder that Jack and Emmaline had something I wanted.”
“Okay, then just apologize to him,” she says sternly.
“It’s not that easy. He has to want me regardless of his wife or the letter. Not more or less than her. And to do that, he’ll have to accept that she’s really gone.”
Elizabeth leans back in her chair, looking defeated.
“I know you’re right,” she mutters to herself.
“I want him to be happy too,” I say softly.
“Well, for what it’s worth,” she replies, standing from the chair, “this was fun.”
“It was?” I reply, sitting upright. It’s not what I expected her to say, so it takes me by surprise. I haven’t had a lot of female friendships in my life, so to feel as if I might be forming one with Jack’s sister has me suddenly hopeful.
“Yes, it was. I like you.”
She starts to walk away, and I follow. “Well, next time you want to scare me to death and share a bottle of wine, I’ll be here.”
“Good,” she replies frankly. “And…don’t give up on Jack just yet. He…might take some time to come around.”
“Okay,” I say noncommittally. I don’t suspect he will this time, and I don’t have the heart to hope for it either.
“Bye, Camille,” she says before opening the front door. Then, a moment later, she disappears through it.
Rule #42: It’s not that complicated.
Jack
My head is pounding when I peel my eyes open. I hear my name being called, but I only groan and roll away from the sound.
