Page 125 of Goodbye Again
“I never said that.”
He just stares at me, so I shrug.
“I can compromise, JP.”
“He thinks you should stay home after you have kids.”
“Maybe I’ll want to. I don’t know. I’m not a mom yet.”
He grits his teeth and his jaw flexes.
“He doesn’t look at you like you’re his entire universe—”
“I’m not. I’m just one person.”
He lets out an aggressive groan of frustration. “Do you even hear yourself?”
I swallow, steadying my voice as best I can. “You can’t point out every little thing and present it like this and act like everyone else is without their flaws. What about you?”
“What about me?” he asks, his chin snapping back like I backhanded him.
“Everything!” I shout. “It’s always about you! Everything always comes back to you and I’m so tired of it!”
He shifts his jaw and shakes his head. “You’re missing the point.”
“So are you!” I swat at a tear falling down my cheek, wishing I could stop yelling. “I’m happy, JP. You don’t get a say in what I do. You aren’t even considering all the good qualities about him, and that’s unfair and, quite frankly, entirely inappropriate.”
“It’s not though, because I care about you. And I would be devastated if I knew you were married to someone who didn’t love every single piece of you—even the flaws and weird habits you have.” His words hurt, sending streams of tears down my face. They land like bullets on my chest. He moves an inch closer, reaching out to wipe away the evidence of the pain he’s inflicting by speaking the truth. “You should be loved by someone whose face brightens at the sight of you. Someone who doesn’t talk over you in conversation or thinks your love for Taco Bell is because a part of you never moved on from your adolescent ways.”
“He’s not very funny, even when he tries,” I continue to defend my fiancé against myalmost. Mymaybe. Mycould have beenbutnever was.
“Jules.”
Goosebumps rise on my flesh every time he says my name, but especially when he cups his warm hands around my cheeks.
“Don’t,” I manage, but even I can hear the waver in my voice.
He doesn’t continue. He just holds onto my face, pleading with me to tell him he’s right.
The silence floods the air until it feels like there isn’t any oxygen left. I swallow hard, mustering up the gall I have to say these final words. “I could have loved you, but it was never right for us, you know? So I just get to love you differently, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop,” I say, and he nods. “But I’m marrying Donavan. I love him in a way I never got to love you.”
He drops his hands, and the hinge of his jaw clicks, but he doesn’t respond. I blink hard, hoping when I open my eyes he’s gone and this all was a dream. But he’s still there and my heart still hurts.
“I have to—I have to go,” I stumble over my words, turn around, and walk away, not daring to look back. I don’t say goodbye this time. This time I walk away with an inky scab on my wrist and a stabbing pain in my heart.
By the time I make it back to the apartment, I’m nearly sober and emotionally depleted. I toss my bag on the counter, and my gaze immediately catches the wine-stained rug still tucked under Donavan’s expensive couch. I make a vow to get rid of it tomorrow, then crawl into bed, curling my tired body under his warm arm. Running my hand softly over his shoulder, my wrist throbs like a rug burn and I remember the tattoo etched on my wrist. A stupid fucking taco. It’s for Audrey but it will always and forever remind me of JP.
Fuckis my last thought before I drift off to sleep.
Gramma Elle
“Sometimes problems are just a fart in a mitten.”
“HEY, GRAMMA,” I SAY, collapsing next to her on the porch steps. She’s dressed in a denim button-up with a sunhat and gardening gloves.
“Why the glum face?” she asks.
I shrug. “Is life always complicated?”
