Page 43 of It Couldn't Be You
“We decided to take a break. But it wasn’t a break. A week later, she ended things completely… During our week ‘break,’” he did air quotes with his fingers, “Cole, the guy I was jealous of, confessed his feelings. She didn’t want to regret not giving it a shot with him. That’s what she told me. It was hard.”
“I bet it was hard.”
“You know, she told me she still loved me. She said she had feelings for us both. She was confused. That’s something I don’t want to happen again… I don’t want some girl who’s confused. I want someone who knows they want me just like I want them. That hurt.” His eyes glistened like maybe he would cry. “We’d been in love for years—what’s there to be confused about?”
I nodded. Though, deep down, I knew there was so much to be confused about, especially at eighteen-years-old miles away from the boy you loved.
“We were young. She actually married him last year. So, they were meant to be. They got a house. They’ll probably have some kids. She always wanted all that, you know. We always talked about having that ourselves. She used to tell me she wanted to teach at the school where we fell in love.”
I gave him a sympathetic arm rub.
“I’m over it. I guess that’s what I was doing during college instead of dating much. I was getting over Sophie. I’m happy for her, really. It was high school. She’s married.”
She’s married. If she wasn’t married, then what?
He coughed, apologized for his long reply, and asked me if I had any long-lost loves. I laughed and said I’d never really been in love, so I’d never really lost a love. He apologized again. He swore he had moved on. He barely thought of her now, he said effusively.
And we never mentioned her again. His family sometimes mentioned her when she was tangled up in old family stories, and I would search his face like a map to doublecheck that his heart was still where he said it was—still with me.
Because he might not have understood how you could be confused about feelings or how you could have feelings for more than one person because love for one didn’t always disqualify love for another. But I knew.
And I knew that maybe he wouldn’t identify it that way, but I couldn’t forget how he’d said, “She’s married.”
I always feared he loved us both. His love for me couldn’t squash his love for her. Her only disqualifier? She was married.
But, about a year later, she wasn’t married anymore. And now, here she was, in front of me.
Gabriel kept looking at me with questioning eyes. He could sense my discomfort.
I was wondering if Sophia knew Jordan and I were broken up. Or if she told someone after they asked her about Jordan, “He’s with someone,” as if that was their dead end. The locked door. The giant disqualifier.
Gabriel looked over at the front desk where, she stood sipping her coffee and looking at her phone, presumably waiting for her dad. Then I watched Gabe squint his eyes in recognition.
“I know you,” he said loudly, ever a Hernandez. “The prom queen!”
She turned her head, putting on a polite smile before her eyes softened in recognition. “Gabriel Hernandez.” Then she added, “The writer.”
“You flatter me!” He stood up.
“Oh no, what happened?” she asked, noticing his cast as he hobbled over to her.
What. Is. Happening? The horrific idea of the two of them having some unspoken magic between them flitted across my imagination. I mean, she was single, and he was single. And, apparently, Gabriel found her memorable.And she cared enough to track his career like a stalker.
The idea felt like someone had heard about an old nightmare of mine and evilly laughed, “I can make that ten billion times worse.”
I walked over and stood awkwardly beside him, prompting him to say, “Do you remember my fellow writer, Emma Brown?”
“Of course,” she said. A little less warm, I noted. “Hi, Emma.”
I gave a little wave. “Hello, Sophia. How’ve you been?”
“I’m good,” she said. “I’ve moved back, actually. I’m teaching over at Sweet River Elementary, actually.”
She was teaching at the school where she and Jordan met, where their love began like they had always planned.
“How are you?” she asked. Then in a rush added, as if she couldn't help herself,“How’s Jordan?”
Gabriel let out a breath of air, always so dramatic. His gaze sideways on me.
