Rowan’s mouth scrunches to one side. “I didn’t mean it like that, Holly. It’s just…that’s a lot. Maybe he needs some time to process it. I think I probably would.”
“What the hell?” I ask through a mouthful of ice cream. “You hate him. You’ve told me, several times, that I should stay away from him. Are you suddenly on his side?”
“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “But…” He lifts his hands into the air in a gesture of defeat. “I don’t know. You’ve seemed pretty happy over the last couple weeks, I guess, and I figured… I’m shit at relationships. Who am I to say anything?”
Who indeed? I’m no better. All I know is that the highs and lows I’ve experienced over the past week have been a roller coaster compared to the slight lifts and dips I’ve experienced in past entanglements. Right now, I never want to try again. I never want to experience this I’m-being-ripped-open sensation or the sentiment that I’m not good enough—that if I were a little different, maybe he’d think it was worth a try. That feeling is bullshit, and Iknowit’s bullshit, but knowing that doesn’t make it go away. Maybe it would be different if the man I had these feelings toward wasn’t my huge first crush in high school, but there you go.
In the future, I’ll be sure to choose differently, although right now it feels impossible that I could ever fall in love with anyone else. I guess it’s always felt impossible, or maybe I’ve unwittingly chosen men who have made it impossible.
“Maybe you just need to give him some time,” Bryn says, her mouth pursed in sympathy.
I snort. “Oh, so another few years?”
Bryn laughs.
“Seriously, you’re laughing right now?” I ask, trying to look offended.
“Blame the pregnancy hormones,” she says through bouts of laughter, and I have no idea why, but I start laughing too. Rowan joins us, probably because he’s relieved that at least we’re not crying.
“We’re a mess,” he finally says as he rubs moisture from his eyes. “I actually feel bad for Harry.”
“Yeah, I do too,” I say. “But I feel good for us. He seemed to have big plans for this place.”
Bryn gives a little shake of her head. “That man’s going to find out what it means to be around too many Mayberrys.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I say. “You know, I saw a new poster on the bus the other day. The slogan was ‘Only love could make them richer.’ You think Nana came up with that?”
“Sounds like her,” Bryn scoffs.
“How does Rory feel about all of this?”
“He’s not thrilled. Neither am I, obviously, but we’ve all refused to be on the show, so there’s that. You know Nana’s still going to talk about us on air. She won’t be able to help herself.” She looks heavenward. “I don’t think she’ll want to help herself. I mean. Everyone knows Rory’s the reason she got the show.”
I sigh. “And a Merry Christmas will be had by all.” Then I sneak a look at Rowan before shifting my gaze back to her. “Say, if there’s extra pie at Thanksgiving dinner, can we take some home? And please don’t say no, we already got a new set of Tupperware.”
She laughs and smooths down my hair. “You can take all of the pie, Holly. Rory’s parents don’t eat it.”
“Who even are they?” I ask in mock horror.
“Who cares?” Rowan says, reaching over for a high five. “We get pie.”
I give it to him.
“So, which romantic movie are we going to guilt Rowan into watching?” I ask, only halfway faking my smile. I do love to torture him. “Let’s pick something really cringy. We can take pictures of him and send live updates to Willow and Ivy. They’d enjoy that. Maybe Ivy will even put them up on her blog.” Our little sister has the kind of fans who’ll read it.
“Under no circum—” Rowan begins, but then he heaves a heavy sigh, takes a big mouthful of ice cream, and says through it, “Fine. For Holly.”
See what I said? He’s got plenty of spark, this one.
“You’re an A+ brother. The best one I’ve ever had.”
He doesn’t even comment that he’s technically the only one I’ve ever had, though we’ll soon have two brothers-in-law.
We watch the movie, and I eat a ridiculous amount of ice cream. It’s kind of nice, but it doesn’t banish the feeling of being torn and empty. I imagine nothing will, not totally. Because I’ve carried a torch for Cole Garrison for years, and it’s not going to be doused in one night. No, it’s far more likely to burn me up inside.
After I say goodnight to my siblings, then wash up and head to bed, I finally let myself check my phone.
There’s a sinking sensation when I see there are no messages from Cole.
