CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tonight, I don’t need Audrey and Isla’s help to get ready. I put on a dress that matches the turquoise gem in my necklace perfectly. My pigtails are put up into bull horns. I’m wearing my bright pink bikini beneath my dress—Brent has a heated pool—and matching sunglasses. I go with Chucks, a floral pattern with both colors so I completely match, and if Audrey says they don’t “go” with the outfit, I’ll just point out they’re floral so they’re feminine. She can’t argue with that.
Some waterproof mascara and clear lip gloss and I’m ready to go.
I make my way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and meet Aunt Ruthie by the fridge.
“Hey,” I greet.
“Going out tonight?” she asks.
I nod. “There’s a party, a pool party, I think, at Brent Steffen’s.”
“Just be safe. I’d love to say no drinking, but your father told me if I say ‘no’ you’ll deliberately defy me.” She laughs. “You’re so much like your mother.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t really remember her to be able to agree or disagree. I wish I’d had longer with her, but sometimes I’m thankful I didn’t. This way, I don’t know what I’m missing. I think if I did know, it’d be so much harder to be without her.
“So, I’ll just say, no drinking and driving—”
I cut her off. “—that’s a given, Aunt Ruthie. Brent doesn’t live far, and we can always call an Uber, if needed.”
She nods, and I think I see what might be pride in her eyes? I don’t know. I’ve never really had anyone look at me like that before. Dad’s expressions are pretty neutral, and the grands were always smiling—even when I got into trouble.
“If you decide to stay there, please call or text to let me know so I don’t worry,” she asks.
“Of course. I promise.”
I give her an uncharacteristic hug and she immediately wraps her arms around me.
“Thanks for being so good to me. I know you’re not used to kids and I’m sure I’m cramping your style.”
She steps back. “I need tohavestyle for it to be cramped.”
I smirk. “Suuuurrreeee. I’ve seen some of the guys.”
“They’re nice men. I just can’t seem to find the right one.”
“How would you know they’re the ‘right one’?” I ask, truly curious. My grands, my dad’s parents, were married over fifty years before they passed, so they must have known the magical answer.
Aunt Ruthie leans forward on the counter. “I wish I knew the answer to that. If I did, I’d be happily married instead of thirty-six and single.”
I sigh. “It seems… elusive.”
“Sometimes. You just need to keep looking.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask, genuinely interested. I’d love to see Aunt Ruthie married and happily in love.
She nods. “I won’t give up until I find it.”
I just nod back. I don’t really know what to say to her. I don’t know if it’s possible for every single person to find that forever kind of love. I don’t know if I’ll ever search for it. I may just go through life without actively seeking it, and if it happens to find me, so be it.
I felt something for Jack—yes, Jack. I think he’s the real guy and Lenny’s fake. I don’t understand why. The popularity? His QB status? I know a lot of people look up to great athletes, but does that cause too much pressure for one person?
I suppose that’s something I can’t and won’t know. I’ll never reach that status. I’ll just be Jillie and I’m quite content with that. Being in the spotlight isn’t where I want to be, which is why I’ve been trying to avoid these parties.
I thought about it and, really, I can still go to these parties and remain status neutral. I did pretty well at the bonfire that Friday—but, then again, I did run into Jack, who took up most of my night.
That night. Every time I think about it, I get almost… wistful. I wish I could relive it again. The fun banter, the lame jokes, the inane conversations. I won’t deny the sex was great, but what do I have to compare it to? It was thoughtful of him to make sure I had an orgasm. I’m sure not all guys do that—which is what leads me to believe there’s more to Lenny than what he lets people see.
