Page 66 of Autumn on My Mind

I clear my throat, breaking off a piece of my maple bar and popping it in my mouth. Because I’m nervous about what I’m preparing to say, I chew slowly. Then, finally, I let the words out. “So…I think Alvina actually likes your dad.”

Dom shrugs, his eyes on his sticky bun once more. “They’re dating, aren’t they?” he says, and then he takes another enormous bite.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean I think she truly likes him. Maybe is falling in love with him.” My fingers begin fiddling with my napkin, tearing it into small pieces of their own accord. “It seems different from her past relationships, except for the one with my dad.”

When Dominic’s jaw stops working. When he looks slowly up at me from across the alleyway and raises his brows, my pulse skitters—because I can tell he sees where I’m going with this. He quickly finishes chewing the bite of food in his mouth and then speaks. “And…?” he says.

“And…” I swallow, feeling the rough napkin beneath my fingertips, the sharp press of brick against my back. “And what if we let them date?” I go on, speaking faster, trying to get the words out before he objects. “I don’t think we’re having much success anyway, are we? I think this could be good for her. Plus”—my deepest fear rears its ugly head—“we’ve almost been caught several times⁠—”

“Are you serious right now?”

I jump a little at his question, even though it’s not loud or angry—just abrupt. When Dom sees my reaction, he sighs and sets his sticky bun down. “What if they get married?” he says, and though his words are relatively calm now, his body is tense, his eyes narrowed. “What then?”

“I don’t think they will,” I say, thinking of my conversation with Alvina.

But Dominic shakes his head, looking frustrated. “What you think carries no weight on reality, Reese.” He reaches for his roll, stops, and then lets his hand drop as he looks at me. “I asked you if you wanted to break them up, and you said yes. I told you not to get involved if you were going to change your mind.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “But when Alvina tells you to jump, you ask how high.”

My napkin is shredded too finely for me to tear or rip anymore, but my hands work aimlessly anyway, my lip trembling as helplessness tries to rise in my chest.

“What do you want?” Dom says finally, letting his head tilt back against the brick wall. He watches me through lowered lids, his gaze expectant.

“I—” I begin, but I’m not sure how to answer. “I just⁠—”

When I don’t continue, he shakes his head, rolling it side to side against the brick and looking tired. “What do you want, Reese?”

“I don’t want Alvina to hate me,” I say. “And I just want everyone to be happy!”

He lifts his head and gives me a slow nod. “And what if that’s not possible?” he says quietly. “What if there is no outcome in which everyone can have everything they want?”

I swallow, refusing to let those words in. “I’m sure we could figure something out⁠—”

“No,” he says flatly. “We couldn’t. Your mother wants to date my dad. I don’t want your mother to date my dad. You don’t want your mother to date my dad, but you don’t want your mother to get mad at you if she finds out you tried to break them up.” He sighs. “These things are mutually exclusive, Berkeley. You cannot have them all. So you’re going to need to work up the courage to make a choice.” His direct gaze is full of things he’s not saying, but he finally finishes, “Some fences can’t be sat on.”

And although the word coward never leaves his lips, it hangs in the space between us, dancing with taunting steps around me. I squeeze my stinging eyes shut and then blink rapidly a few times, because I cannot cry. I will not cry.

Because he’s right. Dominic is right, of course. And to cry would make me more pathetic than I already am.

But I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to move forward or how to move backward. So I take another bite of my maple bar.

It doesn’t taste as good as it did before, but I chew mechanically anyway. When Dominic stands abruptly, his movements jerky, I don’t look up at him. I don’t say goodbye when he strides toward the mouth of the alley, because if I say anything, it will be muddled with stupid tears.

I hear his steps pause at the entrance, though; they shuffle to a stop. When he speaks, his voice is tight, grudging.

“Think about something, will you, Berkeley?” he says. “Because I’m confused. When you make decisions, how do you choose your next steps? Are they even based on what you want?” He pauses. “Or are they based on what you fear?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and I don’t have one to give. I listen to his footsteps as they disappear, reaching for my donut to give myself something to do—but it’s gone. I’ve already eaten the whole thing, and I didn’t even realize.

My tears finally escape.

I try to keep hold of the autumn magic in the air when I return to Bugelbach’s after my discussion with Dom, but it’s difficult. I feel a little like one of the warty gourds I usually find so endearing—warped and splotchy inside, trying and failing to be a regular pumpkin.

“I’m not sure that makes sense,” Liv says when I call her after the pumpkin patch closes and everyone has left for the day.

“I know,” I say glumly, the bench swing creaking softly as I sit. “It doesn’t make sense at all. But it’s still how I feel.”

“And you are totally allowed to feel like that. So…” she continues slowly, “do you want to tell me what’s going on? You and Dominic argued?”

I haven’t told her exactly what happened, only that Dom and I talked earlier and it didn’t go well. Liv would happily listen to all my woes, but she has enough going on as it is—I don’t want to add more to her plate.