Page 102 of Matchmaking On The Menu

“There will be others.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

I open my mouth, but I don’t actually know how to explain the weight I put on that one thing, so I close it again. How do I tell him that the application had felt like proof, like a door opening, like if I got it then everything else would fall into place?

“I think I sabotaged myself on purpose.”

Teddy is quiet for a moment. “Why?”

I open my mouth with an answer ready. “Because I was afraid to fail.”

The words leave my mouth automatically, but the second I say them, they don’t feel entirely true.

Teddy studies me. “Is that really it?”

I frown. “What else would it be?”

He shrugs lightly. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

I look back at the phone in my hands. The closed application. The missed deadline. The opportunity that’s gone. And beneath the disappointment, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. Something ugly. Relief.

My stomach twists. “Oh.”

“What?”

I shake my head. “No, that’s...”

But it is. Because if I’d applied and they rejected me, it would’ve hurt. But if I’d applied and gotten in? I would’ve had to decide. Leave Grandma, leave Mom. Leave the diner. Leave Shelly, Quadri, and Mary. Leave the life I’ve spent twenty-seven years building.

My throat tightens. “I think part of me didn’t want the choice.”

Understanding settles across his face. “That sounds a lot more honest.”

I let out a weak laugh. “Great. So I’m a coward.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a person who wants two things.”

I look at him.

“You love this place.”

I nod.

“And you love writing.”

Another nod.

“Those things don’t cancel each other out, Dannica.”

“They kind of do when one of them requires leaving.”

“Maybe.”

His hand finds mine. “But missing the deadline didn’t solve that problem.”

The words make more of an impact than I want them to, because he’s right. The application being closed doesn’t make the choice go away. It just means I chose nothing.