In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead

Chapter 16

One year after college

Mint was going to propose. I could feel it in my bones. This whole year after graduation I’d struggled to reinvent myself, to move on from the paths I thought I’d get to take, the ones that had closed so abruptly senior year. I’d had to find a new career—right when job opportunities shriveled for everyone in the whole country—adjust to the hollow new shape of my family, grapple with the ruins of the East House Seven. For a year, Mint had been the only good thing.

Starting with the day he’d shown up on my doorstep, a week after Heather died. He’d fallen on his knees, raw and grieving and so grateful I was alive when Heather wasn’t—and so awash in guilt for the thought. My own guilty heart had melted. I’d buried my betrayals, and our relationship grew stronger than ever. While the rest of our friends drifted apart, we clung to each other, inseparable.

Heather’s death had been a dark chasm ripped through our lives, breeding misery. I wanted things to be normal again, good and upright. I wanted to live in the sunlight.

Mint was the sun itself. We’d moved to New York City, Mint to start law school, me to take an entry-level job at Coldwell, the most prestigious option available to me, now that my other choices were gone. It had been a hard year, but we’d just survived our first Homecoming back at Duquette, proving the good memories outweighed the bad, reforging friendships. Life seemed hopeful again, and now here we were, out for dinner at my favorite restaurant, the one so expensive I felt grateful when Mint picked up the tab. There was nothing to celebrate, no real reason we were here. Which meant…

Mint sat across from me in his high-backed chair. The restaurant’s dim lighting turned his face into an oil painting, all warm skin, luxurious lines, and soft shadows. He held my hand.

“I want to tell you something. It’s important.”

My heart swelled, and I squeezed his fingers. I’d been eyeing his jacket all night, wondering where he’d hidden the ring.

“Jess, you know I love you. I have since freshman year.”

“I love you, too,” I said, not even caring how breathy my voice sounded.

“And this year in the city has been good. Better than I expected.”

I nodded.

He took a deep breath. “But the thing is, I don’t think this is working.”

I stared at him, confused.

“I’ll always be grateful for what we had, but…I think I’ve been trying to keep something alive that should’ve died a long time ago.”

It was finally sinking in. “What?” I whispered.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to confess something.” He swallowed hard. “I cheated on you, Jess. At Homecoming. You know Saturday night, when I didn’t come back and told you I slept in Frankie’s hotel?”

I didn’t move a muscle. As if refusing to participate could stop the whole thing from barreling forward.

“The truth is, I got wasted. I went to Wendy’s with a bunch of people after the bars, and—I’m not proud of this, obviously—but I hooked up with Courtney. In the bathroom. And then we went back to her hotel.”

Not Courtney. Anyone but Courtney.

“I think I’ve liked her for a while,” Mint continued, twisting the knife deeper. “In college, I think I had a crush on her but just never acted on it, obviously, because we were together. But I want to act on it now.”

My fingers let go of my fork, and it clattered against the plate. “What are you saying?”

His eyes actually filled with tears. I’d only seen him teary a few times, so rarely I could count them on one hand. The sight broke through the fog of my shock, made the moment real. “I’m so sorry, Jess. I won’t ever be able to apologize enough to you, not for this, or anything. I’m so full of guilt, I can’t…” He took a shaky breath. “But I need to break up. It’s for the best.”

Panic—cold, gripping, tearing my heart. “No,” I said, my own eyes filling with tears. “Don’t do this. Don’t break up with me.”

“But I cheated on you,” Mint said, lowering his voice, now that mine was rising. “With Courtney.”

Everything became crystal clear in that moment. Exactly what the score was, exactly what I needed to do, what I could and couldn’t live without. I couldn’t lose Mint, the person who’d looked at me and smiled freshman year and turned me into somebody.

“I forgive you,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll move on like it didn’t happen. I swear, I’ll never hold it against you. Please don’t leave me.”

I was low, I was scraping the floorboards, I was a puddle of muddy water you stepped over to get to the sidewalk, but I didn’t care. Desperation buzzed through me, electric and dangerous. I would scream; I would turn the table over. I would do anything to stop this.

Mint could read it in my eyes. He shoved back from the table. “Jessica, you’re acting crazy.” He glanced around the restaurant, at the heads bobbing in our direction. “I thought it would be easier here, but it’s not. Come on.” He tried to wrench me up, but I planted myself in my chair, jerking my hands back.

“Jessica,” he hissed, eyes widening. “Why are you acting like this? It’s pathetic. Get up. Let’s go.”

No, no, no.If we left, I felt sure it was over. I would lose Mint and myself. I’d already lost so much. I couldn’t lose anything more.

So I did a horrifying thing. I slid out of my chair to my knees and clasped my hands together. The diners around us hushed, their attention turned to the spectacle of the begging girl.

“Please,” I cried, my voice thick with tears. “Please take me back. Please don’t leave me. Please love me. I’ll do anything.”

Down, down, down, I went.

I would never, for the rest of my life, forget the horror, the depth of disgust in Mint’s eyes, when he finally saw me for who I really was.