Page 66 of Unbreakable
TWENTY-EIGHT
JEANINE
NOW | DECEMBER
Rachel
Have you heard from Dylan?
Yeah. I don’t really know what to say to him. I just talk about the kids
“What doyou think of that pinot?”
Andy took the day after our fight off work, so I covered the tap room Thursday. It was now Friday, and though he was allegedly back at it, I hadn’t seen him yet.
That was fine. I didn’t really care to see him after he launched his incel pitch to me. Just because he’d been “waiting for me” didn’t mean I had to do anything about it, and frankly, it was kinda creepy. It was entirely his problem if he’d been holding out for me since he was what, eighteen? Nineteen?
So there I was, behind the bar at Wendlock Winery, waiting on a couple who was taking some time away from the city before the hustle and bustle of the holidays. They were so cute together: their bar stools almost on top of each other, feet on the rungs of each other’s stools, hands across each other’s laps.
It made me wish Dylan and I’d gotten more time to just be a young couple in love, before kids and life got in the way. Maybe I wouldn’t have been standing there right then if we had.
“Oh, it’s great,” the woman gushed.
“Another round, or something different?”
They looked between each other and without words, they decided. “Anything sparkling?” the man asked. “She loves some bubbles.”
I smiled. “Dry okay?” They nodded. “I have just the thing. Let me get you the right glasses. I’ll be right back.”
I pulled out flutes, but I’d forgotten to restock the cooler the night before with sparkling bottles. The doors at the opposite end of the room blew open, ushering Andy in on a gust of wind. His arms were full of packages, and he gave me a friendly nod. I returned it, hoping his good mood meant he’d gotten over the bullshit he threw at me two nights before.
I headed for the office behind the bar, where we had a less cute secondary refrigerator. Andy followed me in there.
“Hey,” he said as he set the boxes down.
“Hey. Doing better today?”
He didn’t respond right away, so I turned to look at him. He leaned against one of the worktables, where Mom and I had been staging shipments two days before.
“I, uh, I feel like I should apologize, Jeanine. What I said was really out of line.” He had one hand in his pocket, and the other toying with the back of his shaggy hair. “Things have just been kinda hard for me lately. But I want what’s best for you. Genuinely. Even if that doesn’t involve me.”
I tipped my head to the side, nodding slowly. “Just focus on what’s best for you, Andy. I’m fine.”
I prayed he’d get the subtext that I was not what’s best for him, because I was still holding out hope that Dylan would get together some sort of apology beyond a texted “I’m sorry.”
Because even though I wanted to pummel his face, I still loved Dylan to the core of my being. It was just hurting me to love him when he made a habit of disregarding my needs.
Andy and I stood in a stare-off until I gave him a placid smile. “I should get back out there.”
“Oh, oh, yeah. Didn’t mean to get in your way.”
I grabbed the cold bottle of Blanc de Blanc and returned to the bar. I got a certain satisfaction from working the bar again, serving people who didn’t yell at me for arranging Cheerios in the wrong order. Or who didn’t just eat the food I made without a word.
I pushed those dark and resentful thoughts down, centering myself on the task at hand.
“Want me to do the whole sword thing?” I asked with a grin.
“Ooh! I’ve always wanted to watch that!” the woman answered.
