Page 77 of The One Timer

“And?”

“And I feel too much, want too much, to settle for that. It’s starting to hurt me too much, Merry. It’s making me feel bad about myself, like I’m not enough.”

She hugs me and tears leak, but I put a stop to that dam self-pity.

I pull back from my friend. “It’s not his fault—don’t get me wrong.”

“Then who’s fault is it?” She’s looking angry now, an uncharacteristic scowl like I haven’t seen before. “He’s a rich privileged prick if he doesn’t want you just because you’re not one of his elite friends like that chick Sheryl Foster.”

“No, it’s not like that. He can’t help feeling the way he feels. He can’t help growing up the way he did, or being born into the family he was born into. Besides…” I contemplate copping to the fact that I’m the problem when it comes to not fitting in. But there’s no point.

“I see. Then it’s all in your head, isn’t it? You’re the one uncomfortable with him, am I right?”

I shrug. I should have known she would know. “It doesn’t matter either way because he’s committed to hockey and doesn’t want a serious relationship.”

“Sure it does. He may or may not want a committed relationship, but not because you’re not good enough. The problem is you’re delusional and what you need is some disillusionment. You need to figure out what’s important here. Staying in your comfort zone or having a shot at the love of your life?”

“What? I snort. “The love of my life? What makes you think he’s⁠—”

“Don’t even try to pretend your way out of this one. Be honest about your feelings. You’ve never had any trouble with being honest with yourself before.”

“Maybe I haven’t been so afraid of losing something before.”

“So you intentionally throw it away?”

I stare at her mutely for a few blinks. Shit. “That makes no sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s going to hurt like a fucker either way.”

“I should tell him how I feel.” I suck in a breath. “Then let the chips fall where they may.”

“Not tonight. Wait until you feel stronger. Let’s watch Bridget Jones and eat ice cream.”

“First I need to call Mrs. W. and see how she’s doing. I wish I could visit, but it’s late for that.”

“You do that and I’ll get into my PJs and get us some ice cream.”

But when I call the house, the line is busy three times. Then I try Mrs. W’s cell phone and there’s no answer. I’m left with hoping that means she’s fine. Someone would have called me to tell me if something was wrong, right? As I change into my PJs, the niggling idea that I’m only the hired help intrudes, but I shove that aside. I’m more than that and her family was grateful for my care, surely they would keep me informed. Chase would call. He did call.

“Shit.” I wonder if he called about his Gran and I check my messages. I have a text from him asking about dinner later and that he’ll see me back at the house, to wait for him. Nothing about his Gran.

I hesitate with the phone, automatically ready to reply to his text, but then I wouldn’t know what to say. Not yet. So I don’t and put my phone aside. Merry comes back to the couch with a quart of ice cream and two spoons.

“Everything okay?”

I nod and we settle on the couch in our pajamas to watch the movie. After a short time, there’s a knock at the door.

“Were you expecting someone… at nine o’clock?”

She throws on her robe and goes to the door. I follow behind her. She checks through the peephole to see who it is.

“What the fuck?”

My heart lurches, hoping irrationally that it’s Chase even though it couldn’t be because he has no idea where Merry lives. Then Merry throws open the door and I’m shocked.

It’s My Aunt B and my two cousins, Penny and Petra.

Chapter Twenty-Seven