So of course, of all nights—when I’ve just taken the biggest risk of my professional life; when I’m days away from spending aweekwith her; when the old wounds from recognizing how little I inspired in Ethan that he never, not even once, wanted to take me to this treasured family vacation home of his, are fresh in my head; when I’m about to lead a book discussion for a book I loved but to which I am very unsure how other people will respond—she’s here.
At least, I tell myself, she loved the book.
“Why don’t you grab yourself something from the coffee bar,” I tell her. “On me. I’ll go look for Mia’s sweater.”
“Oh no, I’ll buy it,” she says quickly. “You don’t need to—”
“I insist,” I tell her. “On me, please.”
I smile at Jen the way I have smiled at so many people so many times before. Not quite meaning it, but trying to trying to muster up warmth and kindness when I feel anything but.
As she smiles back, wide and genuine, relief loosening her shoulders, I’m reminded, in the same way my “make myself small” sometimes does something good, makes space for someone who needs that, this “fake it till you make it smile” can do something good, too—show someone warmth, give them kindness, when they dearly need it.
Which, as I head toward our box of lost and found, on the hunt for Mia’s sweater, makes me wonder, with her beachfront wedding just days away, her happily ever after stretched out before her, why Jen, of all people, seems to have needed just that.
To my relief, the book is not a flop. It leads to an intense conversation at points, but overall, our book club agreesThe Grace Yearwas well written and thought-provoking. Jen is quiet during our discussion, so much so that by the end of it, I’m surprised to see she’s still here.
By the time most members have left, I finish folding and stacking chairs. Ro is closing down the coffee bar, and Hailey, who worships at my feet since I managed to contain the damage on her embargoed book flub, is sweeping the floor. Jen lingers nearby with Mia’s sweater in hand, talking to Kat, a smart, friendly member around Jen’s age who also has a kindergartener. Jen glances my way as Kat calls goodbye before heading out the door.
Then she walks toward me.
“Can I help with anything?” she asks.
I smile. “That’s nice of you to offer, but no, we’re basically done, right?” I turn to Ro.
They wave me off. “Yep! All I have to do is close up. Get out of here.”
“Thanks, Ro.” I turn toward Jen, who’s still standing there, a growing sense that there’s something she wants to talk about, something she has to say to me.
Maybe she’s just going to come straight out and tell me about the surprise wedding we’re in for this week. I can’t think what else it would be. Whatever it is, even though I’m dreading it, I say to her, “I’m going to grab my bag, if you want to walk out with me.”
“Sure!” she chirps. She sounds even more chipper than Hailey, which I didn’t think was possible.
Her enthusiasm spikes my anxiety. I head through the store, leading us down the back hallway to the staff room. My heart knocks hard against my ribs.
It’s awkwardly silent as Jen hangs in the doorway while I pack up my bag, slip it over my shoulder, then power down my computer for the night. Relief whooshes through me as I spot the small stack of books that I’d set aside for Mia—some early reader copies, some damaged final ones the store won’t put on the floor. I scoop them up and turn to Jen with the books in hand.
“Can I send these with you?” I ask. “I figured Mia might enjoy some new reads on the drive to the beach.”
I hold my breath, remembering what Alex said earlier today, his reverse-psychology plan to trick Ethan into driving my dog, who suffers from car-ride-induced flatulence. Maybe it worked, or maybe it backfired and Mia will be driving with Jen and Ethan after all.
Jen hesitates. “Oh. Thank you, but… Ethan said Mia is riding with you and Alex.”
Said. The word hangs in the air, souring my stomach. Ethansaid, notasked.
When Alex sought my thoughts on who should ride with whom, he told me Ethan was asking Jen for hers.
Sounds like Ethan didnotask.
Sadness seeps through me. Because that sounds very much like the Ethan I knew, the Ethan I was married to… the Ethan whom Jen is about to marry.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask her.
Jen shrugs, smiling faintly. “Sure. She’ll have more fun in the car with you two, anyway. I need to make some tweaks to my lesson plans before the school year starts, so I’ll do that while Ethan drives.”
“Oh,” I say. “Well, that’s good, at least. I forgot you’d be getting prepped for the school year already.”
“Mm-hmm.” She sniffs, her mouth suddenly twisting. “Thanks for finding her sweater. Mia said she had a lot of fun at the event.”
