“Is that what you want?”
“No. But that doesn’t stop it from frustrating me. I love Audrey, and I absolutely want,” I hesitated, “wanted. A future with her. But …”
It was hard to discern my thoughts from those that Audrey had raised. How had she so succinctly put it?You don’t know what a real relationship is.
She, unfortunately, had a point. “The timing wasn’t right. Just because I wanted it to work doesn’t mean I’m in the position to give her what she needs.”
“Jackson, dear, where on earth did you get a ridiculous idea like that from?” Mom had materialized in the doorway and wore a look of disbelief. “While it’s certainly very noble that you’re worried about providing for her, it’s very selfish.”
They weren’t to know that Audrey had made that choice herself by walking away. “I didn’t mean—”
Dad cut in. “You don’t think I did all that on my own, did you? Your mother worked just as hard, no, harder, to provide for you and Sarah.”
“It was an equal effort,” she said with a kiss to his temple. Then she returned her attention to me. “It can’t be one person shouldering it. It’s a partnership.”
“And if she doesn’t want to be with me?”
Mom’s tone was tender and caring. “Love is hard. And when you’ve met the right person, it doesn’t always fall into place. It hasn’t always been flowers and rainbows with your dad and me. There were times, in the beginning especially, when I didn’t know if we’d last. But we worked through it. Together.”
34
Audrey
“This is nice. It’s been a while since we had a girl’s night. I was starting to forget what you looked like.”
I know Tiff didn’t mean it as a slight, but I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty anyway. Outside of our Saturday mornings and text conversations, we hadn’t spent much time together in the last few weeks.
Just another aspect of my life I’d been neglecting.
“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear.”
Her look shifted from joking to concerned. “Hey, I was joking. Everything ok?”
“Sometimes, I hate that you know me so well.”
“Is it wine bad or ice cream bad?”
“It’s not anything bad. I’m just … missing Jackson and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.”
“Ok, well, from the sounds of that, I definitely need some form of chocolate. Come on. I’ll bake while you talk.”
Somewhere in the time that I’d known her, Tiff had decided the best way to hash out a problem was by baking. Her wizardry over recipes extended across all mediums, it seemed. While I, on the other hand, decided I could learn a handful of dinners to whip up on short notice, leaving the fancy stuff up to the five or so decent takeout places near my apartment.
Tiff’s kitchen was hardly more than a single long counter, but she made the most of it. She patted the only spot on the bench where overhead cupboards hadn’t been installed. “Sit. Talk.”
I popped up onto the counter and watched while she dug out bowls, spoons, and a variety of ingredients, throwing them together with practiced ease. She measured nothing, which gave me mild anxiety, but had never been an issue for her. I sat silently, her calm movements relaxing me.
It had been almost a week since Jackson and I had broken up, and I still felt the gaping hole left by him. The congealed mass of my regret had settled in my gut, sneaking its grip through my insides and squeezing my lungs.
“Ok,” Tiff said when the silence had dragged on long enough. “I’ll start. He’s a jerk, and we hate him.”
I shot her a look. “We don’t hate him. We hate me for hurting him. And we hate you for introducing us.” I was only half-joking.
Immediately, she pointed the wooden spoon at me. “Hey! You’re about to pull off an incredibly successful launch of a delicious new spirit, and I’m fresh off my fourth consecutive win as bartender of the year.” I half-heartedly rolled my eyes, but she continued, “So you can stop that pity party right now.”
There was a loose thread along the seam of my jeans, and I pulled at it, lazily curling it around my finger. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. It wasn’t that long ago you were convincing me to stop dating and start looking for something casual.”
Tiff looked regretful. “Don’t remind me.”
