Lib Novel Page 51
“It’s fine,” I say. “She’s been talking more about the wedding, and I think this could be a good chance for her to work on those details while I’m in meetings.” When she’s not texting me how bored she is, that is.
“Have you two set a date yet?”
It’s the most asked question. Her parents. My parents. It’s something we should know by now. But I can’t bring myself to pull out the calendar, and she hasn’t pushed for it either.
“Maybe next fall,” I say. “She’ll be done with school then, and we’ll have more time to make plans.”
What I don’t tell Levi is that those plans could take me away from here. Which makes this year’s convention that much more important. It could be my last.
“You should buy a ticket for Nina next year,” Levi says, nodding over to the porch. I don’t bother looking, knowing how hard it is to tear my eyes away.
“Maybe,” I say. If there is a next year.
Jordy comes over after dinner, when all the guests have gone to bed. Nina left a few hours earlier, opting to skip the barbecue tonight. I couldn’t help noticing how quiet she was towards me the rest of her shift. I avoided her most of the night, feeling awkward and ashamed, like I was betraying her or something. Especially when she found out Jordy was coming over.
“Should I expect her home tonight?” she’d asked, her cheeks flushed.
“No,” I’d said, and it felt wrong to say it.
But then again, why? Jordy is my fiancé, and we’ve barely spent time together since she moved here. We haven’t even slept together since the night of that God awful dinner at her family’s house, which would be weird except sex has played second fiddle for years. Either she’s been too busy, or I have. So tonight feels like something we need to do, just to make sure we don’t drift further apart.
So why am I thinking of Nina and the way she left early? Why do I feel guilty that Jordy is here and not Nina?
“We haven’t seen this in a while,” Jordy says now, her head leaning against the crook of my shoulder while she clicks on The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. We’ve watched this movie at least a dozen times, and I know she’s watched it at least that many times alone. But here we are, about to watch it again.
“Are you ready for the HRC?” I ask, settling into the couch as she snuggles closer.
“Hmm?” She plays with the button on my shirt, something that used to drive me wild. Now I’m just resisting the urge to bat her hand away. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“The convention,” I say. “I got us tickets for the earlier flight so we can check in early and get settled before it gets too crowded. If you want, I can make reservations for that bistro you like—”
“Shit, that’s coming up? I completely forgot. What dates?”
I tell her, and she grabs her phone and scrolls through it. “Brayden, I can’t. It’s finals week, and there’s no way to make any of this up.”
“I thought all your classes were online.”
She unbuttons the middle button of my shirt, and her warm hand slips over my skin. I catch her hand, and she stills. Then she sighs. “Okay, fine. I really, really don’t want to go.”
The weight lifts off my chest, and suddenly I can breathe easier.
“It’s not that I don’t want to go away with you,” she continues, “I do. In fact, I want to plan something with you as soon as you get back, but not the convention. I felt like I was trapped in one place with nothing to do and no one to talk with. I just can’t put myself through that again.”
“It’s totally fine,” I say, and she looks up, her wide eyes smiling.
“You really don’t mind?”
“I mean, I’ll miss you,” I say, “but we’ve spent much longer times apart. Besides, this way I can focus on the convention and not on whether you’re enjoying yourself or not.”
I lean down to peck her lips, closing my eyes as I try to remember what it was like when things were new. We barely knew each other, but it fun and exciting…and very not serious. It was so casual, I didn’t even tell her I was leaving when my dad had his accident. But then she called to tell me she was pregnant…
“You’ll marry her,” my father said, his voice wavering only slightly from his hospital bed. There were so many tubes connected to him. His legs remained still beneath the blankets; his skin gray as he leaned heavily against the pillows. He could barely keep his eyes open from the amount of drugs in his system. I was either at his bedside or attached to my phone, afraid he’d have another heart attack and I’d lose him forever.
At that point, I’d promise him the world.
“Yes, I’ll marry her,” I promised him, reaching for his hand. It remained limp in my grasp, but I squeezed it with reassurance. I’d be a man of my word and care for Jordy and our new family.
It wasn’t her fault we lost the baby. It wasn’t either of our fault. But I made my father a promise, and then her, and now I’m being a really shitty boyfriend—a shitty fiancé.