Page 43 of Any Girl But You
Colby steps back, her gaze casting one more time at Josie, before she nods at me. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Have a good night.”
When Colby walks past us, Josie and I continue toward the restaurant. “A friend of yours?” Josie asks.
I shake my head. “No, just a good customer. She’s really nice, from the little I know.”
“Well, she loves dogs, so she’s obviously a saint,” Josie says with a smile.
The breeze picks up the tiniest bit and I snug my scarf a little tighter around my neck. We make the most plain, non-intimate small talk during the walk. We talked about Minnesotans’ favorite subject—the weather—how the traffic differs from where Josie lives in Minneapolis, and how she discovered an uptown sushi restaurant featured on a Food TV show. I could probably engage more, but my mind is elsewhere.Quinn.
In what feels like an hour, but is really less than five minutes, we are finally at the table. After ordering, I squeeze a mist of lemon into an ice water and take a sip. Josie is telling me about the vet hospital she works at, and the surprising amount of snakes that are brought in to be seen, and I promise I’m trying to listen to her, be as polite as I can, and pepper in random questions. But I can hardly focus.
None of this feels right. Being here with Josie is like expecting a certain taste but getting something completely different, something expired and ruined, and then waiting forthe inevitable sickness to set in. Josie thepersonis not the sickness. Josie therelationshipis the expired food. I don’t want to be with Josie right now. I don’t want to be with Josie, ever. It was clear to me the moment I saw her, and every second sitting here is taking away time from the one I really want to be with.
My knee bounces under the table. Can Josie please say what she needs to say, so I can call Quinn to see if she wants to come over for a movie. Or for a talk. Dammit. I need to tell her how I feel. No more holding back. Time for me to jump onto the frozen lake and see if it can withstand everything before it breaks. I can do this.
“Thank you for meeting with me. I know…it’s been a while,” Josie says, running her fingers through her shagged hair. “I wanted to let you know I’m moving back to town.”
My mouth drops. “Um, why?”Please don’t say it’s to get back together. It doesn’t feel good to turn someone down. For the first time since Josie didn’t accept my marriage proposal, I finally feel what it was like to be in her shoes all those years ago. The one that has to tell the person, someone you care about, that you don’t want to be with them. It feels miserable. But also, needed.
She lifts a brow at my question.
“I mean, I know your family is here, but you were so desperate to move to Minneapolis,” I quickly add.
Josie pulls the straw to her mouth. “I wasn’t desperate to move to Minneapolis. I was desperate for change.”
Well, that stings a little.
“I know that sounds harsh, but I really need to hash out everything, and just… You know what, I’m just going to dive into this.” Josie gulps down several long pulls of water. “Zoey, I am so, so sorry about how things ended with us. I was stuck, you know? I’d been in Spring Harbors my whole life, been with you for so long, at my job since I was a teenager, and everything just felt stale.”
I can’t help a little heat from springing to my chest. “Stale. Not stable.”
Josie tugs on her fingers as she shifts on the chair, her eyes focused on the table. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I think I just needed some solitude and self-discovery and to find out who I was without you.”
The server comes in at either the best or worst time and sets our salads in front of us. Inside I chuckle—I ordered a Caesar salad.Caesar. Made with anchovies. Somehow, when it’s blended with cream and lemon, it’s delicious, but on pizza it’s not. Ihaveto remember to tell Quinn this later.
“I’m glad that you took time to learn about yourself.” I stab my fork into the salad. “I’m sure that was…therapeutic.” Gosh, this conversation is plain painful. I want to scarf down the salad, throw some cash on the table, and leave.
Josie dashes pepper on the salad, then stirs. “It really was. But, by leaving and staying in Minneapolis, I learned everything I need to know. I found myself, what I needed, what I didn’t need, and I came to a conclusion.”
I take another bite of the dressing-laden crunchy salad.
“I want to give our relationship another try.”
I cough. I put my mouth into my napkin and cough so hard that I see a couple of restaurant goers look at me, probably wondering if they’ll need to jump up and give me the Heimlich. After swiping my mouth off with the napkin, I toss it on the table. “You have got to be kidding me.”
My words are harsh, but not my tone. I can appreciate how hard this must be for Josie, to put herself out like this. I’m struggling with doing this same thing with Quinn, because I’m too scared. But it took me so long to find myself after Josie, and darn it, I really like myself. I like who I am as an independent, as a friend, as a business owner.
“Sorry, I know I just sprung that on you,” Josie says, pink now spreading from her cheeks to her neck. “And of course, we can take it as slow as you need it, and rebuild our friendship, and whatever you need to trust me again.”
I set the fork on the side of my plate with a clank and look at Josie. Lovely large brown eyes face me. There’s an openness to her that I don’t remember, but also a sadness. I want to hug her, pull her close, and tell her she hasn’t finished finding herself. If she had, she’d know this is a terrible idea.
“Josie.” I pause and try to think of my words before I speak. The very last thing I want to do is hurt someone, but I have to be the voice of reason. “I’m flattered, really. It took a lot of courage for you to tell me this. But, um, I don’t want to get back together.”
Josie pulls her mouth into her lips. “I know this is sudden. Well, I mean I’ve been sending you letters for almost a year, so maybe notthatsudden. But, Zoey, what we had is for the record books, you know? It was so special, and I don’t think that we’ll ever have that with anyone else.”
And right there, I know she is wrong. Because it will exist again. I’m cusping on having this with someone else. I just need to be brave. And I suspect that Josie will get there, too.
The paused silence continues to stretch, becoming uncomfortable. Josie pushes the salad around on her plate but isn’t putting any in her mouth. Finally, she sets the fork on the edge of the plate and takes a breath. “What’s her name?” She’s not angry or accusatory. With her shoulders dropping, she’s more deflated. My heart hurts for her, for the one I used to love, for the one I still care about. But I’m not going to pretend.
