Page 68 of Lessons in Lemonade

“That’s not true and you know it. Shelby called me after the Wine and Food Festival brunch, and she shared a lot with me about our friend Meg.”

I’m sure she did. Meg was becoming an expert at having her cake and eating it too.

I turn to face her more, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t desperate to hear these little tidbits from her, no matter how perceptively incorrect they are. “Like what?”

She meets my gaze. “You already know, Jack. There’s no need for me to repeat it.”

And I do know. That was quite possibly one of the best days of my life. To start it with her lips finally on mine and then to end it with her naked between my sheets after the hallway . . . I thought it was going to be our beginning. Turns out it wasn’t.

“She doesn’t want me the way I want her. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shake my head and turn to look back out over the garden she has planted back here. She doesn’t need to see what these words do to me, and I for damn sure don’t want her pity.

I take in the details; it is immaculate, just like Meg’s. Of course they are completely different—one is urban and one is rural—but the intent is the same, and now I feel even worse from just looking at plants. How long will this go on where the stupidest things make me think of her?

“Here’s the thing—I know you know Meg, but you only know this Meg.” She pauses to let that sink in. “You didn’t know her before the cancer or during the cancer, and neither did I. I did meet her directly after, and she’s a different person now than she was then. Things change us, they shape who we become. She’s only let you see what she wants you to see, but for all her smiling and living like the glass is half full, there are still some very dark places in her that linger from the past.”

Her past.

Just like that, the confusion I was already feeling over how I could have misread the signs between us so badly takes a different turn. I hadn’t considered this to be a possibility. I mean . . . that was years ago.

Yes, I’ve been trying to figure out why she is the way she is, but I never once considered that she hasn’t always been this person, this when-life-gives-you-lemons-make-lemonade type of person.

And yes, I do believe life experiences shape us into the people we ultimately are, but she had to have been born with this sunny personality; that isn’t something that magically appears. I understand that she had cancer and survived it, but that doesn’t explain why she refuses to commit or love someone. She gets to live a full life—why doesn’t she want to share that with someone?

Then again, no. The more I think about it, I think Lexi is wrong. Her past doesn’t have anything to do with this. It’s about her not having the same feelings for me that I have for her. You can’t make someone love you.

“Everyone has a past,” I tell her, standing and taking my glass and the plate with me. “Some are good, and some are bad, but in the end that’s what it is—the past. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, and Meg of all people claims she lives each moment to the fullest for that reason. So, no, I don’t think her past has anything to do with this. It just is what it is.”

She stands next to me, takes a long, hard look, and then shrugs her shoulders all nonchalantly. “If you say so.” With that she leaves me standing there, Zeus next to me and my hands full.

I do say so.

I know what I’m worth. I know the type of man I am and how good of a partner I would have been to her. Do I have a high opinion of myself? Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong with confidence and seeing your own value. It’s just too bad she didn’t see it, too. Will I think about what Lexi said a little more? Absolutely. I just guess my question to that is: What does that have to do with me?

Strawberry Pie

THE KITCHEN DOOR at OBA swings open and bangs against the wall as Taylor storms in. Every head in the back of the house pops up to see what the commotion is all about, until they see it’s directed at me. My eyes narrow at the anger rolling off of her.

“What are you doing?” She barely spits the words out at me, her cheeks tinted a nice shade of pissed-off red.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, keeping my voice low and not liking that she’s causing a scene in front of my staff.

She points to the dining room and pieces of her blonde hair follow, flying into her face. “Why is there a guy out there who says he’s here to pick you up for your date? A date, Meg?!”

Behind me, a few of the line guys start to murmur, and I turn to look at them. Some heads are shaking with disapproval but immediately drop as they resume breaking down the kitchen from today while others are prepping for tomorrow. I’m being judged, by all these people, and I don’t like it.

Not wanting to continue this conversation in front of curious eyes, I drag her into the walk-in cooler.

With her hands on her hips, she glares at me, her breath coming out in visible puffs. “Please, explain to me why you are going on this date today.”

“First off, don’t talk to me like that in front of my staff. It undermines my authority, and I don’t like it. Second, I don’t have to explain anything to you. You are really overreacting. And third, why not?”

Her face falls at my admonishment. I hate that I needed to point that out, but she can’t be yelling at me in front of them, although I do understand her motivation. Outside of Shelby and Lexi, she is my closest girlfriend, and we’ve always been very open and honest with each other.

It’s been over two weeks since Jack left, and I still haven’t heard from him. Wanting to be the bigger person, I did text him a few days ago to ask how he was, but he never responded. That stung a lot more than I expected it to and reaffirmed that I need to keep going. My grandmother once told me to keep calm and save recipes, and I’ve created a lot of new ones since he left. It’s time to move on.

“Maybe because you should be a little considerate of Jack’s feelings and at least let the paint dry before getting back out there. He might not mean that much to you, but clearly you did to him.”

Her words are like arrows, and they hit their target, making my jaw drop. “That’s not true at all. Jack means a lot to me—you know that better than anyone.” Although I would argue that if I had meant that much to him, it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to completely cut me out of his life.