A Very Perry Wedding by Marie Landry
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Over the next few weeks, I keep myself so busy I don’t have time to dwell on what happened with Jasper. I expect Marisol to remind me of my promise to loosen the reins with Cravings and take a step back, but I think she understands I need to work right now. I need to stay occupied to the point of exhaustion in order to keep functioning.
The morning after the wedding, I spackled a ton of makeup over the dark circles under my eyes, slapped on a smile, and dragged my hungover ass to Gwen and Evan’s post-wedding brunch. I wanted so badly to bail, but I couldn’t do that to my friends. I’m still undecided whether I was grateful for or disappointed in the fact Jasper had left for Toronto early that morning after telling his brother he was ‘unwell’. I talked and laughed and smiled my way through brunch, promising myself I could fall apart later. That became the mantra that kept me going.
And when I finally went home and allowed myself to fall apart, it was epic. I’m surprised I didn’t slip into a sugar coma after all the booze and junk food I consumed. At Marisol’s insistence, I took a few days off, during which I lived in my pajamas and didn’t leave the apartment. It was my mom who finally came over and forced me to shower, eat a proper meal, and share my feelings. I realized wallowing didn’t feel as good as I hoped it would; it only made me miss Jasper more. Ever since then, I’ve been a machine, coming up with and executing a flurry of new ideas for Cravings. Turns out getting my heart broken had the unexpected side effect of stoking my creativity.
My first task when I returned to work was carrying through with my idea for the pumpkin decorating contest. Thankfully, I already had almost everything I needed, and the last-minute announcement just a few days before Halloween didn’t seem to deter people. It was a huge success, giving me a much-needed boost of confidence. It spurred me on to implement many of the other ideas I had scribbled down in my notebook over the years. Now I’m on to planning Christmas events and menus.
Gwen and Evan return from their honeymoon to Europe at the beginning of the second week of November. On Gwen’s first day back to work, she comes into the café to invite me over for dinner the next night. When I hesitate, Marisol calls from the back that I’ll be there.
“You can’t hide out and bury yourself in work forever,” she says in response to my death glare after Gwen has left. “I know it’s weird they’re Jasper’s family, but they’re also two of your closest friends. Don’t let your current feelings cloud that.”
Marisol comes to my apartment the next night, claiming it’s because she needs help getting ready for a date. I think it’s really because she wants to make sure I don’t back out on dinner with Gwen and Evan. After choosing an outfit for me and swiping some light makeup on my face, she rummages around in my closet and emerges with an old rainbow sweater I forgot I owned. Paired with the tight black jeans and red tank top she was already wearing, she’s somehow both sexy and cute.
“You look hot,” I tell her as she buckles her black ankle boots. “Who’s the lucky person tonight?”
“Carmen and I are going out again,” she says.
“Wow. What’s this, the third time you’ve gone out with her?”
“Fourth.” Marisol straightens, meeting my gaze. “I know,” she adds when she sees my wide eyes.
“How do you do it, Mar?”
“Do what, babycakes?” She leans closer to the mirror behind the door to apply a coat of bold red lipstick.
“Keep the faith that the right person will come along? Not get attached to the people you date? Have fun, let go…be a normal person who doesn’t fall for the wrong guy and get her heart crushed?”
A battle of sympathy and amusement plays out across Marisol’s expression. Sympathy wins. “You and I approach love, romance, and sex very differently,” she says, plopping down next to me on the couch. “What works for me would never work for you. You’re not a casual dating person, you’re a relationship person. Someday I want to be a relationship person too, but for now I’m having too much fun.”
“I wish I could be more like you.”
“And I wish I could be more like you. The older I get, the more I wonder if ‘keeping things casual’ is actually a handy excuse to keep people at a distance. A way to safeguard my heart so whoever I’m dating knows from the get-go I’m not interested in anything serious. I think I’ve become so used to these surface level encounters that I don’t know how to do anything else. Deep down, I’m actually terrified of falling in love even though my heart says it’s what it wants more than anything.”
Wow. I’m so stunned, I have no idea what to say.
“I don’t think this is really about me, though,” Marisol says, angling on the couch so she’s fully facing me. “I want to say this and then we both need to get a move on. I’m obviously no relationship expert, but I am a Willow Stewart expert, and here’s what I think: Maybe your time with Jasper was a stepping stone of sorts. Something to shake things up, show you it’s okay to open up and be yourself. To develop feelings and let someone in. I know it really fucking sucks that it didn’t work out, but that’s not a reflection on you or your worth. You know that, right?”
Despite the non-committal sound I make, I do know that.
At my nod, Marisol continues. “Life is meant to be lived. Unfortunately, that means getting hurt sometimes. It also means making mistakes, learning, growing, and occasionally even having your heart broken. Some things happen in order to teach us something about ourselves or life in general. Even when those lessons are painful—like now—you can’t let them deter you.”
“I know you’re right, but…I’m still trying to find the lesson in all this,” I say, my voice wavering. Will I ever be able to talk about this without emotion welling up inside and threatening to choke me?
“You’ll get there.” Marisol’s hand lands on my thigh and gives a comforting squeeze. “I think the fact you opened your heart to Jasper is part of the lesson. It reminded you you’re capable of being vulnerable, showing someone the sides of yourself you sometimes keep hidden. You knew it had the potential to end in heartache, the way any relationship does, but you went for it anyway.”
She grips my hand and gets to her feet, pulling me with her. “Take the time you need to heal, but don’t let it harden your heart. You did that after TJ, and you have way too much love and light to give to let it happen again.”
I ponder her words as she turns me toward the front door and gives my butt a gentle smack to get me moving. I never thought of it as hardening my heart, although I guess that’s what I did. At the very least, I created a protective shell around it—one I had no interest in letting anyone penetrate until Jasper came along.
“I know you’re secretly holding out hope Jasper will come around, and I can’t blame you for that,” Marisol says. “You need to keep living your life regardless, though. You, Willow Stewart, deserve the absolute best, and if you have trouble believing that or keeping the faith, I’ll believe enough for the both of us until you get there.”
I stop and whip around suddenly, causing Marisol to plow into me. We both let out a loud ‘oof’ as we scrabble at each other to keep steady. When we fall against each other, we turn it into a hug, giggling uncontrollably as we rock back and forth.
“I love you.” I squeeze her so tight she lets out a squeak, followed by more giggles. “Thank you for being such an amazing friend.”
“Always.”
*****
Gwen, Evan, and I make it all the way through dinner and dessert without bringing up Jasper. When I wonder if they’re purposely avoiding the subject, I remember that until two months ago, I hadn’t even met Jasper, and he wasn’t a regular topic of conversation anyway. Gwen would mention him in passing and would sometimes confide in me about the deeper conversations they had, but he was a stranger to me then. I thought of him as Evan’s stiff and socially awkward older brother who often said the wrong thing and planned every family event down to the second.
Gwen and I curl up together on the couch after dinner so she can show me some of the honeymoon pictures she didn’t post online. Evan is in the kitchen tidying up and has promised to bring us more wine after he’s finished.
When Gwen starts flipping through the pictures on her phone faster than I can actually see them, I know something is up. She glances over her shoulder toward the kitchen, even though we can still hear Evan in there loading the dishwasher.
“Have you spoken to him?” she asks tentatively.
I must be feeling better because my immediate impulse is to be sarcastic and ask if she means Evan. “He’s called me a few times, but I can’t bring myself to answer,” I tell her. I can’t handle hearing Jasper’s voice in my ear, knowing the things it will do to me, especially after our night together. “The last time he called, I texted him back to see what he wanted. He said he knew he should give me space, but he wanted to know how I was. He said he understands it’s too soon to expect anything from me, although he’d like to remain friends, especially since we have loved ones in common and he comes to Bellevue for visits.”
“How did you respond?” Gwen asks.
I wait a beat, uncertain how she’ll react. I’ve wanted to bring up Jasper all night—hell, I wanted to bring him up every time I talked to her while she and Evan were on their honeymoon—but I have to respect that he’s her family now. I don’t want her to feel like she’s in the middle of an uncomfortable situation. “I didn’t.”
Gwen makes a soft sound of acknowledgment.
“How is he?” I ask.
She glances over her shoulder again. Evan is still in the kitchen. “He quit his job at the bank,” she whispers.
“What?” I hiss.
Gwen nods. “Last week. He won’t tell us any more than that, but he’s been acting weird, kinda cagey. Evan says to give him time. I say we should plan a visit to Toronto and make him tell us what’s going on.”
I give a little half-laugh at that. I can picture Gwen barging into Jasper’s apartment with her ‘let me love you’ attitude and not letting up until he spills the truth. God knows I’ve been half tempted to do the same thing over the past few weeks.
We fall silent. Maybe that’s why Jasper called me—he wanted to tell me he was quitting his job. A glimmer of hope lights in my chest, and I squash it immediately. Just because Jasper has one less thing tying him to Toronto doesn’t mean anything. If it did, he would have tried harder to get in touch with me.
That night when I go to bed, it takes me ages to fall asleep. When I eventually do, I dream about that night in Honeywell with Jasper. It’s disjointed and wrong, though—Liam is there and Jasper keeps disappearing and then popping back up in unexpected places—and I’m relieved when I finally awake with a gasp. I reach for my phone to check the time, letting out another muffled gasp when I see a text from Jasper.
I know I shouldn’t say this, but I miss you.
I blink rapidly, wondering if I’m actually still asleep and dreaming. I jump out of bed and go to the bathroom. The text is still there when I return. The time stamp is two-oh-four, just ten minutes ago. Phone in hand, I pace around the room, glancing at the screen every few seconds. I’m not sure whether I’m waiting for another message from him or for the message that’s there to magically change before my eyes and prove I’m imagining all of this.
Before I can second-guess my decision, I hit Call on his number. I’m about to hang up when he finally answers.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yesss, fine.” His words are slurred. Is it wrong that part of me finds it funny he’s drunk? I never got to see Drunk Jasper. With his need for control and order, I don’t imagine it happens often. “I’m sorry, Willow. I wished for an undo button the minute I hit send.”
“Because it’s not true?”
He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. The low rumble of it in my ear has me clenching my thighs together. This is why I haven’t wanted to talk to him on the phone. Well, one of many reasons, anyway.
“No,” he says on a sigh. “Because it is true, and it’s my own stupid fucking fault.”
I bite my lip. I wish I could see his face, his posture. What has he been doing since he quit his job? Why did he quit his job? Has he been getting dressed? Shaving? Showering? Is he as much a mess on the outside as I was in those first few days and continue to be on the inside now? “I miss you too, Jasper,” I whisper. “So much. But…has anything changed? Are you willing to give us a try?”
“I…Willow, it’s not…it’s not that simple.”
“It is, though, Jasper. It really is.” Silence stretches over the line. A wave of anxiety and sadness wash over me, telling me it’s imperative I get off the phone immediately if I want to avoid a breakdown. “I need to go, I have to work early in the morning. Be sure to put a glass of water by your bed before you go to sleep, and drink the whole thing as soon as you wake up.”
“Okay. Thank you, Willow. And I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, Jasper.” My voice is an unsteady whisper. “I am too.”
*****
I feel like a walking raw nerve the next day. One gentle poke could send me spiraling back to where I was in the days after Gwen and Evan’s wedding. So when TJ walks into Cravings, looking as gorgeous as ever, I have to resist the urge to fall on the floor and throw a universe-cursing tantrum.
His guarded expression as he approaches the counter makes me wonder what my own face is doing. “How are you, Willow?” he asks carefully.
“Great. Never better. What can I get you?”
Someone who didn’t know him as well as I do probably wouldn’t notice the way his shoulders slump at my curt tone. I notice, though, and it makes me feel like shit.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I…I’m having a bit of a rough time, and seeing you has thrown me for a loop.”
“I’m sorry for that.” His cautious expression morphs into one of sympathy and concern. “I keep seeing Cravings all over social media. I mentioned it in passing to a client of mine, and she suggested we have our meeting here today. Insisted, actually. I know I promised to give you space, so if me being here makes you uncomfortable, say the word, and I’ll tell her we need to meet somewhere else.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. Really.”
I try to convince myself this is good practice for when I inevitably run into Jasper. Learning to deal with people who hurt you is a part of life. I mentally bring out the adulting stickers I thought about the last time I ran into TJ. Today’s would say ‘Learned to be civil to a man who crushed my heart’. Maybe it’s a tad wordy for a tiny sticker.
“Will?”
I snap out of my reverie. From the look on TJ’s face, I’m guessing he’s been trying to get my attention for a while. “Sorry, I’m a space case today. You said you’d been seeing Cravings’ posts?”
Now he looks a touch sheepish as he waves the phone in his hand. “I actually follow your Instagram account from a private account. I didn’t want you to think I was keeping tabs on you or anything, but I got an ad one day and started following. You’ve done some truly amazing work here, Willow, and I’m so damn proud of you. Am I allowed to say that?”
I release a long, shaky breath. “Yeah, you are. I appreciate it, TJ.” We stare at each other for a long moment. His familiar eyes are soft and searching, and they put me at ease for the first time all day. “When is your client getting here?”
TJ glances at his phone. “Not for another fifteen minutes. I came early in case you asked me to leave and I had to come up with a contingency plan.”
I snort out a quiet laugh. “Want to have coffee with me while you wait?”
Five minutes later, I set a tray on a table for two and drop into the seat across from TJ. I think this surreal moment has hit us both because neither of us says anything as I place his coffee—an Americano, same thing he used to drink when we were together—and a pain au chocolat in front of him.
“I should thank you” I say, taking my own vanilla latte and pumpkin spice muffin off the tray. “Something happened recently that’s knocked me for a loop and made me think a lot about the past. The other day, I was thinking about the last time we saw each other and you made that joke about raspberry cordial. Remember?”
I can’t blame him for the perplexed look he gives me as he nods.
“Well, I’ve been planning all these things for Cravings. I wanted to start offering special events once or twice a month, like themed parties and afternoon teas.”
“Like the Halloween one you did last month?” he asks.
“Yes!” He really has been paying attention to our social media. “So when I thought of that raspberry cordial comment, it made me think I should do an Anne of Green Gables tea party. I’d serve cordial, tea, and finger sandwiches, and I figured I could look up what sorts of desserts were popular in the late 1800s when the story took place.”
“That’s brilliant,” he says, toasting me with his coffee cup. “I’m sure it’ll be really popular. And I’m glad something good came out of that chance encounter. I had the impression I’d made things worse between us.”
“Nah,” I say. “I knew you heard what I said and respected my wishes.”
“I did. I do.” He breaks off a flaky piece of his pastry and pops it in his mouth. “What about the guy you were with that day? Jackson? James?”
“Jasper. We’re…not together. We never really were. Not to sound like a Facebook status, but it’s complicated.”
He chuckles. “Is it safe to assume he’s what knocked you for a loop recently?”
My first reaction is to shut this down. Tell him he’s the last person I want to talk to about my love life. But the genuine concern on his face—plus thoughts of my conversation with Marisol last night and how she said I’d hardened my heart after my breakup with TJ—has me softening. Finally, I settle on a simple, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Willow. I hope the next guy you meet has more sense than to let you get away.”
One side of my mouth lifts in a half-hearted smile. “Thanks.”
TJ straightens in his seat, clearing his throat. “So. Tell me more about what you have planned for this place.”
The change of subject lifts a weight from my chest. I tell him about some of the holiday events I’ve been working on with Marisol. It feels strangely okay being here with TJ. Maybe even borderline good. Talking about the café and my plans puts me at ease and makes me more animated than I’ve been in weeks. TJ listens with interest, asking thoughtful questions and interjecting with his own opinions here and there.
As we talk, a sense of relief washes over me. Despite enjoying TJ’s company, I don’t feel anything for him other than the potential for friendship. I’ve avoided him for so long because I worried seeing him would stir up old feelings and reopen old wounds, especially when I’m already feeling so vulnerable. We’ve slipped back into familiarity, though, and when something from the past gets mentioned, it doesn’t feel like someone’s prodding a tender bruise the way I expected it to.
I’m starting to see that maybe it’s possible to be friends with someone you once gave your heart to. Your heart might be a little battered and bruised, but as Marisol said last night, that’s life. Jasper and I were friends before we became more—and then nothing. Perhaps it’s possible for TJ and me to be friends now after being more to each other once upon a time.
With that logic, it’s not a stretch to believe it’s possible for Jasper and me to be friends again someday. I just have to finish falling out of love with him first.