“I don’t mean Liam specifically,” he says. “But someonelikehim. Someone who’s charming and confident and who likely doesn’t second-guess every move he makes or every word out of his mouth. You, Willow, you’re so passionate and creative andfun. You laugh easily and smile often. You deserve a man who’s outgoing and fun-loving, who can be there for you and give you all of himself. Not someone who’s stuffy and awkward. Not someone who’s tied up in knots and still trying to figure things out at the age of forty.”
My head bobs uncontrollably as I take in everything he’s saying. “Okay. Okay, Jasper. How about a man who fits in with my family? With my friends? Who knows me well, understands my anxieties, sees my vision for the future and thinks it’s amazing? ThinksI’mamazing?” My voice cracks on the last few words.
“Yes, yes, of course. All of that. You deserve all of that, Willow.”
I throw my hands up, exasperated. “I just describedyou, Jasper!Youare all of those things.You’rethe one I haven’t been able to get out of my head for weeks.You’rethe one I’ve let past my walls and decided to trust and care about when I wasn’t sure it was even possible.You’rethe one who’s made me feel seen in a way I never have before.You’rethe one…the one I’m falling for.”
His eyes flick away from mine. His throat works, Adam’s apple bobbing over and over. “I’m honored you’ve let me into your life these last few weeks. It’s been a special time for me, one I’ll cherish always. But you live here in Bellevue. You just moved back and you’re happy here. Thriving, even. And I…well, my home and my work are in Toronto. We could attempt long distance for a while, but I think we both know it’s not sustainable, not with the hours we work and the two-hour drive. Typically when people commit to a long-distance relationship, there’s an end in sight, a plan for one or both people to move, but that’s not likely for either of us any time soon.”
“Do I not get a say in this at all?” I ask. He doesn’t say anything. “What are you so afraid of, Jasper? It’s like you’re terrified to let yourself be happy. To believe someone would care about you or even love you.”
“Iamafraid,” he says, his voice whisper-soft. “I have some things to work through and it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to wait or feel pushed aside while I figure things out. You deserve more than that.”
“You keep talking about what I deserve, but isn’t that up to me to decide? We could help each other, like we’ve been doing the last few weeks. Or if you wanted to figure things out on your own, I’d wait. You’re worth waiting for, Jasper.”
“I…” He sighs, plowing his hand through his hair again. “I believe we’re at an impasse.”
“An impasse.” My voice is flat, completely void of feeling. It’s shocking because my body feels like a pressure cooker of emotions, ready to blow. “That’s it then? You don’t even want to try, to see where things go? We had a few great, arguably life-changing weeks together that culminated in a one-night stand and now…that’s it?”
Jasper’s frown deepens with each word out of my mouth, and a deep flush creeps across his face. When I say ‘one-night stand’ he flinches so hard you’d think I’d slapped him. His eyes dart away from mine again and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
And god help me, even though I can practicallyfeelmy heart cracking, it also aches for Jasper. I don’t believe hewantsto end things. He’s doing it because he thinks it’s what’s best, even though he’s completely misguided and is hurting both of us in the process. I want to step forward and wrap my arms around him, cover his mouth with mine, press him close. I want him totry. I want him to think I’mworthtrying for. I want to make him see that even though he doesn’t have his shit together—guess what? Neither do I. Who does?
Jasper opens his mouth and then closes it again, sighing deeply. And suddenly I know no matter what I say, it won’t make a difference. I’m going to walk away from this conversation with a broken heart and my dreams of a future with Jasper dashed. Desperation wells up inside me, propelling me forward. I grip Jasper’s face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes before I press my lips gently to his in a last-ditch effort to get him to change his mind.
Although his eyes slip closed, he doesn’t move, doesn’t kiss me back. When I release him, his eyes remain closed. He looks like he’s in agony. Well, that makes two of us, except his pain is his own doing. I wait until his eyes flicker open once more before I turn on my heel and walk away. In my mind, I beg him to stop me, plead with him to change his mind, to grip my hand and whirl me around and kiss me like his life depends on it. But he doesn’t, so I keep walking, flinging the door open and striding inside.
The first person I see across the room is Gwen. At her concerned look, I give her a bright smile, hoping the dark room will mask how fake it is. She starts in my direction but stops when someone approaches me from the side. It’s an old friend of mine, Meredith, and her cute Irish boyfriend, Kieran. When I walk away a few minutes later, I can’t remember a single word that passed between the three of us.
I make a beeline for the bar, in desperate need of a stiff drink. I’ve limited my alcohol consumption so far because I assumed I’d be going home with Jasper at the end of the night and I didn’t want to be too tipsy. Well fuck that and fuck him.
The bartender is otherwise occupied when I approach, so I peruse the menu, trying to figure out what will get me drunk the fastest. A gentle hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to find Ivy sliding onto the stool beside me.
“Are you okay? Things looked pretty intense between you and Jasper when you went outside, and now…”
Despite my best efforts to maintain a calm facade, my face crumples. I slap my hands over my face, hiding my trembling lips and the tears that push their way out.
“Oh, honey.” Ivy rubs my back. The gesture makes me want to cry harder until I realize Jasper’s jacket is still around my shoulders. I expect the realization to make me feel worse, but for some reason, it washes away the rising tide of emotion, stopping my tears and leaving me numb.
“I’ll go return this to him,” Ivy says, slipping the jacket off my shoulders. “Do you want me to have a word with him? Or perhaps kick him in the balls?”
My lips twitch. “Maybe just throw the jacket on the ground and do a little dance on it before returning it? I’m sure the wrinkles and dirt would bother him more than anything else could.”
Ivy nods and takes a step away. My hand darts out to stop her. “You can’t say anything to Gwen. I won’t have anything spoiling this night for her.”
“Of course. I’ll be right back. Don’t start drinking without me.”
The bartender approaches and I tell him I need another minute to decide. Ivy returns much faster than expected; I picture her wordlessly thrusting Jasper’s jacket at him, the ire and disappointment on her face doing all the talking for her.
“Three shots of vodka, please,” she says to the bartender.
“Three?” I ask.
A hand brushes my arm a second before a light kiss lands on my cheek. Marisol slides onto the stool beside me. Her smile is sympathetic, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows me well enough to know I’ll likely lose it if she asks how I am or what she can do for me. That will come later, likely accompanied by chocolate and ice cream and snuggles on the couch while I cry.
For now, we pick up the shot glasses the bartender sets in front of us. There have been countless toasts tonight—to the happy couple, to love, to friendship, to family—but we don’t say a word now as we raise our glasses and clink them together. The liquor burns in the best way possible, drawing a hiss from my lips.
Our glasses hit the bartop at the same moment. The bartender grins at us, probably thinking this is the beginning of some bridesmaids gone wild scenario. Ivy wiggles three fingers and he refills our glasses, offering me a wink that makes my stomach turn sour.
But not sour enough to stop me from raising my glass and murmuring “Cheers” before slamming it back.
