Page 32 of The Ex Project
“I didn’t think you’d want to spend any more time with me than absolutely necessary,” I say, sitting down on the lounge chair next to hers.
“It’s the least I could do. You are doing me a favour after all. A big one.” Wren stares off towards the trees surrounding the yard. “You’ve met my dad. You know how intense he is. I can’t give my family any more ammunition.”
“Ammunition for what?” I cock my head to one side.
“Proof of what a fuck up I am.”
“A fuck up? You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re a senior engineer at VanTek. You’re far from a fuck up.”
“Not in the eyes of my family. Not compared to Claire.” She takes a long sip of her beer, her eyebrows twitching upward.
“You’re still doing that.”
“What?”
“Comparing yourself to Claire,” I answer. “What happened to ‘Claire is such a geek, Claire is such a kiss ass’?”
“Well, one day I woke up, and I looked at my life, my prospects, and then I looked at Claire and thought maybe she had the right idea all along. And unless I made something of myself, I’d always be living in her shadow.” Wren lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “The funny thing is, I still feel like I’m living in her shadow. None of it mattered anyways.”
“But you’re happy, though. You followed your dream,” I add.
“Happy is a generous word. But yes, I achieved what I set out to do.”
“If you’re not happy, then that means …” I don’t finish my sentence. We’re not there yet. I don’t feel like I can be that vulnerable around Wren yet. Not enough to tell her the only reason I broke up with her was so she could move on, go after what she wanted, get her prestigious job with a big corner office without me holding her back. So she could be happy. And if she’s not, then … it was all for nothing.
The sound of the doorbell chimes through the house, and Wren gets up to go get the pizza. When she gets back, she sets the box down on the table and heads back inside to grab two plates and some napkins. She hands me a plate when shecomes out and sits down again. It’s been a long day of work, so the smell of the warm crust and cheese is making my mouth water.
“Here, eat,” she says, gesturing for me to take the first slice. “You’ve been drinking on an empty stomach, so you need to eat before you start making bad decisions.”
“Bad decisions?” I raise an eyebrow toward her playfully. “And what kind of bad decisions do you think I’ll make, Miller?” I say, sliding a slice onto my plate. She does the same and lifts the slice, careful not to let the toppings slide off, and takes a bite.
Wren pins me with her stare while she chews. She swallows and says, “I don’t know, but based on your antics, I don’t want to find out.”
“My antics, huh?” I casually take a sip of my beer, the bottle making a pop sound as I pull it away from my lips.
Wren nods.
“Uh huh. Like your little stunt outside the grocery store the other day. Taking your shirt off and flexing your abs in your firefighting … costume.” Her tone is teasing now, lighter, the alcohol loosening her up a little, and I like it. I like it when Wren teases me.
“One, it’s not a costume,” I correct her. “It’s called turnout. And it’s high-tech gear that protects me in a fire. And two, that was for a good cause,” I say, but all I can think about is that Wren was looking at me. And that she’s still thinking about me shirtless.
“Sure. Whatever. Just please keep your shirt on around me.”
My eyes roam over Wren, and I don’t miss the way shesquirms slightly in her seat, like the thought of me shirtless in front of her is doing something to her that she is trying to deny. But as my eyes trail down the length of her, they catch on something at the end of her lounge chair, down by her feet.
A familiar leather book. I would recognize it anywhere, because she filled it up with drawings of me. I can almost feel it in my hands, the way I used to take it from her if she was hyper-focused on it and I wanted to kiss her. I tilt my head toward it.
“Are you still doing your art?”
“Not really. Not since I went away for school.”
“Why not?” I ask, getting a shrug for a response.
“I don’t know. Life got in the way, I guess. It was hard to find time once I started university. I had other priorities.” She fiddles with the iron ring around her pinky finger, spinning it absentmindedly.
I don’t know why I do it, but I lean forward to pick up the book, almost like it’s a magnetic force pulling me towards it. It holds so much of who Wren and I used to be together, I can’t resist looking through it. But Wren slaps my hand away as I near it and snatches it off the chair, clutching it to her chest.
“No way, José.” She sticks her tongue out at me and squints her eyes. “I’m not letting you look at that. My design is in there, and I still intend on winning this thing, you know.”
