Man Candy (29 page)

cute nod to our past, but then nothing had

come out right.

Because I’m not good at that stuff. I

don’t know how to do it.

Frowning at my reflection one last

time, I made my way downstairs,

carrying my shoes in one hand and my

dignity in the other.

Nolan and Alex were bright-eyed

and chipper, having coffee and muffins

in the kitchen.

“There she is!” Nolan hopped up and

grabbed a big glass from a cupboard,

filling it with water. “You’re gonna want

this, sunshine. I’ll get you some coffee

and ibuprofen too.”

“Thanks,” I said weakly. My tongue

felt like it had a fur coat on.

“How are you doing?” Alex grinned

at me from over the rim of his cup.

“Don’t ask. Ugh.” I grimaced as I sat

down at the kitchen table. “I think there’s

a dead rodent in my mouth.”

Nolan set the water and ibuprofen in

front of me and I tried to smile.

“Thanks.”

“Want to talk about it?” my brother

asked.

I swallowed the pills and some

water before answering. “I don’t know

what to say.”

“Quinn was worried about you.”

I sighed.

“What happened with that?” Nolan

wondered, setting a cup of coffee in

front of me before sitting down again.

“What happened was that I blew it

about three weeks ago. And then I blew

it again last night.”

“How so?”

I inhaled and exhaled. Even

breathing hurt. “I saw what a bad

breakup did to Margot, and I panicked

that my feelings for Quinn were getting

too serious.”

“Too serious for what?” Alex asked.

“For comfort.” I tried a sip of the

coffee. “You know how I am.”

“So what did you do?” Nolan

pressed. “Break it off?”

“Yes. But I was fucking miserable

without him, so last night when I saw

him, I had this brilliant idea that I could

get him back—and it didn’t work.”

“What did you do?” Alex

questioned.

“I told him I loved him, because I

thought that’s what he needed to hear.”

“Did you say it like that?” Nolan

asked.

“Like what?”

“Like you were only saying it, not

feeling it.”

“Jesus!” I set my coffee cup down

with a thud, some of it sloshing over the

side. “What is with you people? I do

feel it, OK? I
love
him. Am I supposed

to sing it? Cry tears of joy? Shoot a

rainbow out of my ass? That’s just not

me.” I went over to the counter to get

some paper towel.

“No, I don’t think you need to do any

of those things,” Nolan said. “I just think

you need to say it because you mean it,

not because it’s what he wants to hear.

What was his reaction?”

“He said he didn’t believe me. No,

wait.” As I mopped up the spill, I tried

to think back to what his words had

been. My memory was foggy. “I don’t

think he said he didn’t believe me. He

said I was lying, but not to him. To

myself.”

“About what?” Alex asked.

I focused on my hands. “About…

about the reason I pulled away from him.

He said it wasn’t because I was scared

we wouldn’t last; it’s because I’m

scared we
would
.”

“And are you?”

“I don’t know.” Now I was lying to

them too. “Maybe.”

“Why would that scare you?” Nolan

looked at me like I was one of his

patients. Sometimes it was really

annoying that he was a therapist and so

good at sussing out the truth behind

feelings.

“Because I’ll fuck it up!” I burst out,

surprising even myself. “It’s inevitable.

And he deserves better.”

Alex looked a little shocked, but

Nolan barely reacted. “So it will be
you

that hurts
him
?”

“Maybe,” I said, fighting tears and

nausea. “I mean, not on purpose. But he

kept talking about all these things that

love involves—trust and apologies and

fights and forgiveness and sacrifice—I

mean, what if I don’t have it in me?”

“Don’t you think you do?”

“OK, enough with the therapy-

speak.” I threw the soaked paper towel

away and sat down again. “I get what

you’re trying to do, but the thing is, there

are no for-sure answers to these

questions.”

“You’re right,” Alex said quietly.

“There aren’t.”

We both looked at him.

“Then what’s the secret? Tell me,

please
. How do you make promises to

someone when you don’t know what the

future holds?”

Alex shrugged. “There is no secret.

There is no magic, Jaime. No way to tell

what the future looks like. The point is

that you’re willing to take the chance

anyway. You’re willing to say, I don’t

know what’s going to happen, but I know

I want you with me on this journey.”

“Exactly,” agreed Nolan. “It’s not as

if Alex and I know something you don’t.

We love each other and work hard at

this. And he was just as reluctant as you

are to commit to forever.”

“You were?” I looked at my brother,

surprised.

“At first, I was,” said Alex. “I never

wanted to be married. I thought, ‘What’s

the point?’ We’ll just end up hating each

other. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yes! So how did you get over that?”

I propped my heavy, aching head in my

hand.

“I weighed my feelings for him

against my fears, and in the end, I

decided what scared me most was the

thought of a life without him.”

Nolan reached out and took his hand.

“Oh honey, that’s so sweet. Does that

mean we can have the doves?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “No doves.”

Nolan sighed. “Anyway, Jaime, does

that help at all?”

“I guess so. I mean, seeing how

happy you guys are makes me think

maybe there’s a chance for me, but…” I

took a breath. “I have to figure out how

to open myself up to it. I’ve guarded

against it so long that it feels like I’m

trying to get in the game when I’ve been

skipping practice.”

“Ask yourself the hard questions,

and don’t be afraid of the answers,”

Alex said. “Remember we are not our

parents. Be open to every possibility.

That’s my advice.”

“It’s good advice.” Nolan patted his

hand. “And you know, Jaime, there’s no

shame in talking to a therapist about this

stuff. Not me, of course, but I can give

you a name of someone I think would be

good for you.”

“Thanks, I think that might be a good

idea. And thanks for letting me crash

here. I definitely drank too much.”

“Happens to everyone. Just don’t let

it happen at the wedding,” Alex warned.

“I’m not dragging your sorry ass home

that night.”

I smiled. “You won’t have to.”

“And maybe find a different

hairstylist.” Nolan wrinkled his nose and

waved a hand at my head. “The whole

emo thing isn’t really working for you.”

I threw a muffin at him. But I felt a

little bit better.

IN THE NEXT WEEK, I did a lot of

soul searching. I made an appointment

with the therapist Nolan recommended, a

woman named Jenna, who helped me sift

through my feelings. We talked a lot that

first session about my childhood and

how my mom and dad’s marriage and

parenting style had affected me. She felt

that those things had had a bigger impact

on me than I realized, and after talking

about it, I agreed.

After hearing me talk for a solid

hour, she wasn’t at all surprised to learn

that I’d been reluctant to fall in love. She

gave me some more things to think about,

additional questions to ask myself, and I

made an appointment for the following

week.

I saw Margot and Claire that night,

and they told me how proud they were.

“I think it’s wonderful you’re seeing

a therapist,” Margot said. “I love mine.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” Claire

agreed. “Have you come to any

conclusions?”

I took a deep breath. “I miss him like

crazy, and I love him.”

Claire shook her head. “Never

thought I’d see the day.”

“What about the things he wants?”

Margot asked. I think she understood

where he was coming from even better

than I did. “Can you handle it?”

“I think I can,” I said. “I have no

idea what kind of girlfriend I’ll be, but I

can’t bear the thought of him with anyone

else or being with anyone else myself,

so if he wants a girlfriend, it’s gonna be

me.”

They grinned. “When are you going

to talk to him?” asked Claire.

“Soon. Maybe this weekend.” I made

a face. “But I have to work up my nerve.

Twice now I’ve told this man I love him,

and it ended badly both times.”

“Third time’s the charm,” Margot

said confidently.

I really hoped she was right.

THE NEXT DAY, I texted him.
Hey,

can we talk?

He didn’t answer for hours, and

when he did, it was disappointing.
In

London for a shoot. Home on the 7th.

Unless you want to talk on the phone.

The 7th…my heart sank.
So you’ll

miss the wedding?

Unfortunately, yes. Scheduling

mixup. I talked to Alex about it.

OK. Get in touch when you’re

back?

I will.

I set my phone next to me on the

couch and stared at it, my bottom lip

caught between my teeth. It was hard to

believe I hadn’t wanted to go to the

wedding with him when he’d first asked.

Now I was devastated he’d miss it.

At least he wouldn’t have to suffer

through my toast. I was still struggling to

put it together, although something Alex

had said the morning after his birthday

had been buzzing around in my brain

ever since.

There is no magic.

And I knew what he’d meant—I’d

been saying the same thing for years.

But now…I was going to disagree.

TWENTY-NINE

JAIME

ALEX AND NOLAN’S wedding day

dawned clear, bright, and crisp. I woke

up in a surprisingly good mood,

considering I’d been dreading making

the toast for a year and Quinn wouldn’t

be there tonight to get me through it. But

I felt optimistic about both my words

and the evening ahead—and I was

genuinely happy for Alex and Nolan. I

had a new appreciation for their

relationship.

After breakfast I took a walk,

breathing in the cool spring air and going

over my little speech in my head again

and again.

I spent the late morning and early

afternoon at the salon and then dressing

in my old bedroom at my parents’ house,

where the car would pick us up. Getting

ready in my old bathroom reminded me

of being a teenager—and crushing on

Quinn, of course.
Who’d have thought,

after all this time, he’d be the love of

my life?

The thought gave me shivers.

Since I was the only female

attendant, I’d gotten to pick my own

outfit, and I’d chosen a gorgeous light

gray dress that coordinated with the

grooms’ charcoal gray suits. (Light gray

was on the list of Approved Wardrobe

Colors Nolan had given family to guide

their choice of wedding attire.)

I wore diamond earrings, borrowed

from Margot, and the necklace Quinn

had given me, and I had my hair done up

in a twist, which showed off the jewelry

and the cutout in the back of the dress.

Both the ceremony and reception

were held at the Ford Piquette Avenue

Plant, which sounds like a crazy place to

hold a wedding, but I had to hand it to

Nolan—the place looked fantastic. It

was the perfect spot.

The industrial elements—Model T’s

parked along the room’s perimeter, the

exposed brick on the walls and

ductwork on the ceiling, the huge factory

windows, the wood-planked floor—

gave it a rustic, masculine feeling. The

flowers, linens and party lights lent

softer elegance, and the fading sun cast

the entire room in pale amber light.

Almost two hundred guests were seated

in rows of white folding chairs.

A string quartet played as our

parents and Nolan’s were seated, then

Nolan’s brother Sean took my arm and

we walked up the aisle together. Once

we’d reached the officiant, we split to

each side, just as we’d rehearsed the

previous night.

When I turned to face the back of the

room, I saw him

Quinn.

He’d snuck in somehow, and he was

standing at the back, dressed in a dark

suit and looking so handsome he took my

breath away. My flowers jittered in my

hands.