Page 73 of Lessons in Lemonade

Love.

I do love Jack. I know I do.

Now that I’ve actually given in to the idea of it, something I swore I’d never do, it’s easy to see how I was a goner from the beginning. It was completely out of my control. All he had to do was smile, and I freely gave him anything he wanted. Unknowingly, he had me wrapped around his finger, and in hindsight, I don’t even mind. I loved making him happy, even when he wasn’t.

My thoughts drift to his knee, and I wonder how he’s doing. From the photos he’s posted, it appears he’s back with his team, and that makes me happy for him. It also makes me sad for myself, but deep down I’m happy he’s where he truly wants to be. I do want the best for him, even if he decided that’s not me.

Rolling to my side, I stare out my bedroom door and into the quietness of the house. With Jack here, I had forgotten how quiet it is when I’m by myself. I used to think it was nice after a long day at the restaurant, but now it’s just so silent. I can hear my ears ringing, and I’m confused by the idea that this was something I liked before. This quiet is lonely and sad, like me, and maybe it’s time I change that. Maybe it’s time for a pet.

With that thought, I can see Shelby rolling her eyes and hear her saying, “Get up and go get your man!”

But is he mine?

I now understand where I went wrong, but what about him? He told me he loved me then five minutes later walked out the door without ever looking back. If you love someone, don’t you fight for them? Then again, what am I doing to fight for him? And would he even want me to?

Feeling anxious, sad, nervous, and determined, I quickly pick up my phone and fire off another text to him: Just checking in—how are you? He didn’t respond before, but maybe he will this time. I’ve extended the olive branch twice, and I just hope he’ll grab hold of it.

Three little dots appear, and my heart does the high jump in my chest.

He’s responding.

And then he doesn’t.

Time passes, the dots disappear, and no text comes.

I feel kicked in the gut, and my eyes burn with more unwanted tears.

I was so close to having something from him, and then suddenly it feels so far. At this moment I feel every bit of the four hundred and forty miles between us.

More time passes, and nothing comes.

So that’s that I guess.

At least now I know.

I squeeze my eyes shut and allow the heartache to consume me.

Being unwanted is the worst feeling.

From below, the front door opens, and for a split second my heart stops beating at the idea that it might be Jack—but then Taylor’s voice calls up the stairs with a greeting. Who am I kidding? It’s not him. It’s been three weeks . . . it’s never going to be him.

“Get up, get up, get up,” she says in the most cheery voice, and I cringe.

“I don’t want to,” I whine, and although I sit up, I pull the blankets up higher around me.

“I know that, but it’s time and you need to.” There’s a pounding on the stairs from her feet; she’s headed my way, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I have a surprise for you,” she sings out, and then she’s in my doorway.

My eyes widen as I take her in. She’s wearing a short black cocktail dress and heels. She’s dressed up, and instantly I feel my hackles rise. “But I don’t like surprises.” I gawk at her like she’s crazy.

“Yes, you do, and this one you will love.” She moves into my room and opens the blinds, letting the light rush in. “Rise and shine!”

Gah, it’s so bright I have to squint, and I flop back down, pulling the blankets over my head. “But . . . I can’t.” And I don’t want to. Can’t she see that?

She rips the covers away and glares down at me. “Can’t never could, and that’s not you at all. You are a fighter, you embrace all that life gives you, and you never ever pass up an opportunity for a good time. And seriously, have you seen your hair? It’s like two cats fought in it.”

Rolling onto my back, I defensively pat down my hair and groan at the ceiling, because she’s right.

“Don’t you even want to know what we’re doing?” she teases.