Since You Happened by Holly Hall
Chapter 10
Paul texts me that Saturday, and I feel a flicker of nervousness when his name appears on my phone screen. When I read the message, stating that he enjoyed our date despite the turn it took, it stirs up my guilt. He says he understands the need to take time for myself, but he urges me not to count him out when I do decide to take the plunge back into the dating world. I tell him I won’t, though I’m not optimistic. A guy like Paul won’t be single for long. And I don’t want him to wait for a wild card like me, anyway.
I go over to Arielle’s townhome she shares with two other roommates Saturday night to catch the newest episode of The Bachelor. It’s always been our tradition to watch twenty-five women cry, drink entirely too much during cocktail hour, backstab, and compete for the heart of one man over a period of two hours. Because I work Monday nights, they begrudgingly agreed to shift our reality TV habit to whatever day works best for us that week.
I walk in without knocking and climb the flight of stairs to the main level. Arielle’s place is glamorously decorated, with mirrored surfaces, fabrics in neutral, timeless colors, thick window treatments, and complementing rugs and knick-knacks all around. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel like your own was decorated by a drunk toddler.
I drop my contribution of the night—a bottle of prosecco—off at the bar. Arielle looks up from where she’s tossing a salad on the counter and shakes her head slowly at me.
“I still can’t believe you told Paul you weren’t interested. How could you resist those eyes?” she pries, setting the salad bowl on the bar.
“Better question—how can you? You’re the one who’s apparently been resisting them for months,” I counter, gathering some wine glasses. Alcohol will be necessary to deal with her brand of questioning.
Arielle wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, which makes her fluffy top knot bob. “I don’t know. Paul? No way. Not my type.”
“Why not?” I implore, pouring myself a glass of bubbly liquid.
“Hey! This isn’t about me!” she deflects. “This is about you—you’re the one who went on the date with him. Did you at least let him down easy?”
I sigh, letting my head fall back so I can glare at the ceiling. This topic isn’t one I’m comfortable broaching often, especially not on the cusp of a girls’ night that I assumed, if not hoped, would be full of shallow gossip and shameless wine drinking. This doesn’t need to turn into a therapy session, but if I don’t tell her everything, she will probably find out from Paul himself. It would be better if I prefaced that conversation.
“No, I told him I have a communicable disease and am afraid to pass it to him. Yes, I let him down easy! I told him he was a great guy, but I’m just not ready for the place where a guy like Paul is headed.” I shrug, but the skepticism doesn’t leave her eyes. “He was so taken aback that I felt like I had to explain. I told him about the accident.” I take a sip of wine and watch as her eyes widen just slightly. With the fragility of the situation, she’s careful to screen her expression.
“You don’t tell anyone about that.”
“I know. Something about him made me want to be honest, though. Probably those eyes.”
She nods, as though this is a reasonable explanation. “Well, from what I know about Paul, you’ve probably already been forgiven. Maybe in another year or so—”
“Don’t tell me you’re already planning my next date. You promised not to, remember?”
Just as I say the words, Haley summits the stairs. “Oh no, did you ruin another date by being an intelligent, independent woman?” Groaning audibly, I take another large swig. I wanted to avoid all this, but that would’ve been hopeless with these two as my best friends.
“No, actually. It went great. So naturally, Blake said she wasn’t interested and told him about the thing.”
“The thing?” At Arielle’s insinuating look, Haley’s mouth forms a large O. She immediately reaches for the wine bottle and a glass. “I’m sorry, Blake. It will get better with time, you know?” She’s been saying the same thing for years now, and I always nod along in agreement. It will get better with time. I can’t tell you how many people have said that exact same phrase, along with a million other false promises people say when they can’t think of anything better. They’re filler words that don’t do anyone any good, but I can’t be mad at her. At this point, four years later, what else can she say?
I hold up my glass with a falsely optimistic smile. “Honestly, guys, I’m fine. Life isn’t all bad. Especially now.”
Arielle takes her signature dish of asparagus-and-mozzarella-stuffed chicken breasts from the oven, setting the pan on the stovetop to cool, before giving me a salacious grin. “I’m sure it isn’t. Haley found a picture of Landon online and showed me. How unfair is it that you’ve been keeping that cooped up all to yourself? You need to bring him out with us sometime!”
“I don’t think he’s arguing with being cooped up,” Haley points out as we begin to make our plates.
“Probably not. I mean, he’s in our hot best friend’s bed more often than not. How long do you think this is going to last, Blake?” Arielle asks, serving the chicken to each of us.
I feel a pang in my stomach thinking of Landon and what he finally revealed to me. I’m not sure if it’s harder to imagine things ending now that he’s finally shared something so personal. It seems that way. Then I think of how much it will hurt when we finally do separate, because I know this can’t last forever. God, when did I become so involved? This wasn’t supposed to be about emotions or pain or any of that.
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to enjoy it for now.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s difficult.” Haley jabs me with her elbow, and we all settle around the sectional sofa.
“Well, I know you aren’t official, or serious, or whatever, but you should really think about bringing him out with us sometime. We can invite Kara and Zach, and whoever else we can wrangle into a night of debauchery. It would be fun! Besides, I want to meet this guy in person,” Arielle says, prodding me with her toe.
“I can ask. I guess it’s only fair to let you drool over him, too,” I say with a wink, and we start the episode.
“My friends want to meet the man who’s keeping me locked away in my bedroom night after night,” I mention to Landon later.
“You told them about me?” he asks, pulling me into a hug. I inconspicuously inhale when my face is in his chest, breathing him in. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point his scent has become a source of comfort. I know that every time I smell it, my day will improve immensely. We separate, and I return to the kitchen where I’ve been making breakfast for dinner: banana pancakes with a side of bacon and hash browns.
“I did have to come up with an explanation for why my schedule has gotten noticeably more interesting.”
Landon smirks, though he doesn’t immediately answer, and picks up something from the bar, examining it for a few seconds. When I look over, I see that it’s the invitation to a friend from high school’s wedding; elegant calligraphy scrawled across cream cardstock.
“Going to a wedding soon?”
“In a wedding. And thanks for reminding me. I need to let one of the other bridesmaids know that we can share a cabin.” I pick up my phone and scroll down the contact list to search for Carly’s name.
“No date for Little Blake?”
“Doctor Jake and Perfect Paul didn’t exactly work out. They were my last hope.”
Landon flips the card over, examining the back before setting it down. “Why would you even want to bring a date to a wedding? I mean, honestly. It’s the perfect event to have a little fun with no strings attached. Everyone all fired up about everlasting love and all that. And more often than not, the guests are from out of town, so the risk is low that you’ll ever have to see them again.” I laugh at the way his eyes light up. He literally looks like a kid in a candy store.
“How is it that your charm still impresses me? Unfortunately, thanks to my ever-present conscience, I can’t pull that off and still feel good about myself in the morning.” At his skeptical gaze, I add, “Shocking, I know. But also, my douchebag ex from high school is a groomsman. I thought a date, especially a doctor date, would be fun to parade in front of him.”
At the first mention of mischief, he raises an eyebrow. “It’s unusual for you to talk about someone with so much bitterness when that someone isn’t me. Now you have to tell me about him.”
I give him a narrow-eyed gaze and place my phone back on the counter. “He broke up with me in high school because I wasn’t ready to give up my virginity. Then, when we tried to date in college, he cheated on me. Multiple times.”
Landon laughs disbelievingly and shakes his head. “Wow. That’s the least he deserves, but to be fair, he revealed his true colors in the beginning.”
I give him a long look. “I know that now. But I thought it was only fair to give him another chance. You can be an entirely different person in college and nobody judges you for it.”
“I can’t distance myself from such a sinister plot, you know,” he says, and his eyes glitter.
I examine him suspiciously over the skillet of pancakes. “What are you planning, Farrar?”
“We have to go to this wedding. Tell the bridesmaid she can shack up with someone else. I may not be as swoon-worthy as a doctor, but come on, with a haircut I think I could pull off jealousy-inducing lover.” When he holds out his arms and does a little spin, like I don’t know well enough how he looks from the back, I giggle.
“You’re right—nobody would be impressed by you with that mop on your head.” I have to dodge a balled-up piece of junk mail that comes flying my way. “You know people will ask you a lot of uncomfortable questions, like how long we’ve been dating, what our future plans are . . .”
He shrugs, that characteristic smirk still on his face. “I think I can handle that for a free meal, bad dancing, and hotel sex.”
“How did I ever get so lucky?” I ask teasingly.
“October twenty-ninth. Still have time to add a plus one?” he asks, looking back down at the invitation.
I nod, dishing the food onto two plates. “Yep. Mallory basically ordered me to bring one, so shine up your dancing shoes. I’ll be expecting some studly moves from you.”
Landon comes around the bar and into the kitchen, holding his hands out in front of him. “Have I disappointed you yet?” The insinuating expression on his face is irresistible, and I smile at him. No, you haven’t.