CHAPTER 22
FIVE-STAR CHOCOLATE TORTE
A few days after Bonnaroo, on my mother’s doorstep, I’d kissed Chad hard on his mouth. A pang of guilt had weaseled its way under my skin as I looked into his face and told him how much I’d missed him. Really, I’d missed my old comfortable bubble that kept the feelings out. Then I told him he’d been right; I’d been miserable at Bonnaroo.
I was mad at myself because I couldn’t make life in Nashville work, and I’d developed feelings for Grant, feelings, which ruined everything. How could I be friends with Deanna now? How could I act normal around Grant now that every time I looked at him, I’d think of his muscled, wet torso and how much I wanted to rub myself against it?
Chad had smiled, patted my hair, and pulled me to my old bedroom, where I shoved, scratched, nibbled, and pounded him into me because I needed proof that my body belonged in his bed.
This morning, Friday morning, after days of me wallowing at Aurora’s house, Chad told me he had a surprise he’d tell me about over dinner.
I spent the day as I had the previous three, alone in my mother’s house, reading Jane Eyre and mostly ignoring life and the texts from Deanna, Grant, Erin, and even William. Deanna’s was the hardest to ignore.
Deanna, Sunday, 4:27 p.m.: Where are you?
Deanna, Sunday, 5:32 p.m.: William is such a doofus. I’m mortified. Did you get home okay? You wanna get dinner? I can’t even look at William. Grant and Chuck are babysitting.
Deanna, Sunday, 7:49 p.m.: Did something happen at Bonnaroo?
Deanna, Sunday, 9:17 p.m.: Pen, please call. I’m really worried. I need to know you’re okay.
After writing and erasing a bunch of words: Me, Sunday, 9:25 p.m.: I’m fine, going to Minnesota for a few days.
Deanna, Sunday, 9:25 p.m.: Thank God you’re okay, but did something happen? Aside from William?
Me, Sunday, 9:46 p.m.: I just need some time.
Deanna, Sunday, 9:48 p.m.: Understood. Please call/text if you need anything. Miss you.
Me (after sucking up tears to avoid looks from other travelers), Sunday, 10:05 p.m.: Thanks.
Deanna, Monday, 7:00 a.m.: I need to talk to you. I have something to tell you.
Deanna, Tuesday, 9:23 a.m.: I’m trying to give you space, but when are you coming back? What about work?
Deanna, Wednesday, 10:34 a.m.: You are coming back, right?
Deanna, Thursday, 8:17 p.m.: Okay, I know something’s wrong, and I know you don’t want to talk about it. I’m here when you’re ready. (But if that’s not by next week, I’m coming to MN. Consider this fair warning.)
She hadn’t sent anything today. A part of me was relieved, while another part wanted her to. Deanna deserved a better friend, but I hadn’t known what to say, still didn’t. Not talking to her, not responding, was tearing me up. But if I texted, I was afraid I’d blurt it all out, tell her about my feelings for Grant, and I couldn’t do that. Sometimes it was better to say nothing, right?
I still had the house and my car was there, so I’d have to go back to Nashville eventually, but right now, all the questions I’d been avoiding were piling together to form a monster I wanted to hide from. I wasn’t even looking at open positions anymore because even what state I needed to be in was up for grabs.
I slumped downstairs, wrapped in a black robe and indecision. Aurora poured me a cup of coffee, elegantly leaned one hip against her sparkling countertop, and gave me a pathetic smile.
“He’s taking you to W. A. Frost tonight. Your favorite.” She’d always told me never to lean on anyone or anything, but a time like this was an exception, when leaning gave the illusion of comfort and self-assuredness.
I had the sudden urge to ask her why she hadn’t moved away after everything that had happened here. But I couldn’t. One, I was back here. And two, we didn’t talk like normal people did.
She stepped forward. I thought she was going to reach out for me, but instead, she swept an invisible dust bunny off the counter. “I laid out the perfect dress for you to wear tonight. It’s in the guest room. I knew you weren’t up to picking anything out.”
She would’ve laid one out no matter how I felt. But she was trying to cheer me.
I swallowed, swiveled off the barstool, and walked to the guest room down the hall, past the baby grand piano on which my mother had forced me to learn.
The dark-navy dress waited on top of the pristine light-jade duvet. The hanger swung in my hand as I stepped back into the hallway.
“W. A. Frost isn’t this fancy.” The silk, the subtle lace and rhinestone detail screamed class rather than suggested it.
“It can be.” She winked.
“But, I—”
“This is the kind of dress a woman wears on special occasions,” she said, cutting me off, all business now. “Chad’s divorce was final today.”
Barbie.
I am Barbie.
Her Barbie.
Financial Planner Barbie from the Barbie Career Playset.
“Chad and I think we found the perfect place for you two. He’s going to surprise you with it tonight.”
The dream house.
“And he’s got a job prospect. I’ll leave it to him to explain, but it’s all lining up. You have no reason to be sad.”
Of course not. But I was glad she’d ruined the surprise. At least I knew what he was going to say, even if I didn’t know what to say back.
The Fireside Room was an intimate brick-walled space for parties no larger than twenty people. Tonight, there was a single round table in the center of the room, draped with a white tablecloth and finished with a flickering candle in a glass jar that looked like it was about to go out. Fairy lights were hung in sweeps across the white and red rose wallpapered ceiling.
The large fireplace with its vintage brick and its own set of twinkling lights was to my left, and straight ahead, behind Chad, were three wood-framed windows that spanned from ceiling to near the floor and showcased the people-filled outdoor patio.
“You rented the whole room?”
He nodded, a half smile on his lips that was mirrored in his eyes.
I hadn’t fastened my bra tight enough. Nothing grounded me. I reached down and fastened the strap of my heels a notch too tight.
Better.
“You look lovely,” he said.
“Everyone looks good in candlelight.”
He reached across the table for my hand. His hands were solid, manly, capable, the hands of a smooth five.
“I don’t like seeing you like this, and I think I can fix it.”
“Oh?” I acted surprised, thankful again that Aurora had told me what was coming.
“I golfed with a finance buddy of mine today. He owes me a favor.” He paused for effect. “What would you say if I told you I got you a job at Hedge International?”
“Hedge International?” I leaned forward. Hedge International was a dream job. “They’re huge.” And there were never job postings; positions were filled within hours of becoming available.
Hedge International.
“You’re gonna be their newest planner. See what I can do for you? Did your mom tell you about the house?”
“That the two of you found?” I nodded, still reeling over Hedge International. “Yeah, she told me.”
He pulled up pictures. Posh. Beautiful. Elegant. The perfect living space to go with the perfect working space.
“I can’t wait for you to see it. Everything is falling into place. The job. The house.”
Falling into place.
I studied him ... his mouth, the slight dimple in his chin, the husky notes of his laughter. He was a catch and had a life already set up for me. No more struggle, no more weird, confusing feelings to get tied up in.
We ate, talked about the house, the job, timelines, but the whole time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He was essentially solving all my problems, giving me exactly what I’d been looking for. So why wasn’t I excited?
When dessert arrived, Chad leaned over his chocolate torte with a single strawberry fanned on top, intense as I’d ever seen him, and grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers with a look of confidence on his face, like he was touching something that was already his.
A quiet numbness settled under each stitch of this lovely evening frock.
“When you find something that’s right, you hold on to it. You do what you have to do to get it. Sometimes you have to go through people and experiences to figure out what you truly want and need, but when you find it, you know.”
His smile crinkled the skin around his eyes, eyes that reflected the room and all the tiny lights around us so they sparkled. He continued to talk about the future, our common interests, aligned goals, practical next steps forward.
His hand slipped from mine, and he slid to the floor, onto one knee between me and the fireplace. I suddenly wished I were on the patio outside, surrounded by plants—anything to give me a little more oxygen because I couldn’t breathe, hadn’t seen this coming. I searched the room for anything I could fashion into a crude bicycle.
“Penelope Auberge, will you marry me?”
Time stopped.
And my mind ticked off all the reasons to say yes:
Chad was handsome.
He was taller than me, even in heels.
He was intelligent.
He didn’t want kids.
He didn’t ask too many questions.
A future with him would be oblivious to my past.
I could have an instant life, job, house, and husband.
I wouldn’t have to struggle to find clients.
He liked everything about me.
He was the Ken to my Barbie.
Everything he’d said was right. Our interests, goals, and logical next steps had been the same.
Chad, beaming, lifted my left hand, and pushed a huge diamond onto the fourth finger. It glinted, bursting into a kaleidoscope of colors. He maneuvered back into his chair across from me. “Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous.” I stared at my left hand. The sharp angles and precision cuts pierced into my bubble, popping it and leaving me sitting in a puddle of realization.
“Do you know what my name would be if I married you, Chad?”
His eyebrows snapped together as if this was the last thing he’d expected. I was as surprised as he was. It was almost as if, like him, I were outside my body, waiting to hear what I had to say.
“I would be Pen Gwinn. Pen Gwinn. Penguin.” I started laughing. He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his jacket, like he might be sweating underneath, but eventually he laughed, too, a little hesitant, awkward chuckle.
Then a new list materialized in my head, but there was only one thing on it:
Take Chad’s ring off.
He liked everything about me because he liked what I’d let him see. But he hadn’t seen the real me. I hadn’t seen the real me, until I’d found myself in Nashville.
His proposal had lifted a veil. He’d laid out all the things I’d told myself I wanted. But when faced with actually having them, I no longer wanted them. I couldn’t picture a life with Chad. I loved my new house in Nashville. I loved my new friends. I was still floundering, there was no doubt about it, but the only threads tying me in place at all weren’t here in Minnesota. I’d moved on, and I hadn’t noticed the changes inside me until this moment.
Thiswasn’t the option I thought it was.
And I wasn’t Barbie.
“When you find what’s right, you hold on to it,” I said, repeating what I remembered of his previous statement, and then I pulled the ring off my finger. “And this isn’t right.” I held the ring out to him, but he wouldn’t take it, so I placed it on the white tablecloth, near his dessert plate.
“I don’t know what’s next for me.” My heart stung. I knew I was hurting him. But this was his life, not mine, not even ours. “But I do know my future isn’t with you.”
He shook his head, grabbed my hand again, and pushed the ring back onto my finger. “You’re confused. Do you know how many women would be thrilled to be in your shoes right now?”
Probably not many. They were way too tight.
He waved his hand between us. “No. I know you better than that. I love you. You need to get away from that ridiculous mustache and those people who aren’t like you and me. Hedge International. I can’t go back and tell Bryan that you’re not interested. No one turns this down. Do you know how that would make me look? My parents already told me I was screwing up by leaving Vicki.”
Wow. All this time, I’d just needed someone to lay it all out for me, like a dress. I shoved my sarcasm aside and tried to ignore my rising anger. He didn’t know my new friends or the new life that had grown around me, giving me something I’d never had before, something he’d never had.
And I did know how it would make him look, and I was really, really sorry. I knew what kind of person he was. I used to be that person, and I tried to sympathize, especially since this was partly my fault. I could’ve avoided tonight, spared us both this regret, if I’d been strong enough to know what I needed. But up until that ring was on my finger, I was considering the life he presented, really considering it. Because it was easier than dealing with all the potential failure and all the feelings that I’d opened myself up to. And if we’d had an affair, at least it was because we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together.
But life was going to be hard no matter what I did. The difference was that I had a chance at happiness in Nashville. I did not have one here.
“Houston did what he did,” he went on. “It wasn’t right, but you had your crisis, and I let you. Now it needs to end. Let’s get back to real life. Marry me. Take the job. It’s what I know you want.”
“I’m so sorry.” I took the ring off again. “I can only imagine what my turning down the job will cost you. And how you must feel. But I’ve been trying to build an empire, when all I really need is a village.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When the Fletchers didn’t sign with me, I started doubting everything. And then your parents pulled out.”
“I told you—”
“I don’t blame them, but it was the loss of another really big client. And it felt like the end. I was questioning all the decisions I’d made, but I’ve been so focused on what I didn’t have or what I’d lost that I haven’t been focusing on what I do have. I think I’ve been confused about what it is I actually need to start a business on my own.”
His mouth was slightly open, as if he couldn’t fathom where this was going.
But it was becoming clear. As I spoke, a weight was lifting. “I know you don’t understand, but I love Nashville. And I’m just now realizing that I don’t have to have a fancy office or huge clients to be happy or even successful.” I’d been ignorant, trying to make this transition work in only one way, when I hadn’t considered any of the others. I had a house that was paid for, and it might not be as professional as an office with a glass-topped desk, but I could just as easily work from home. And I felt foolish. Deanna was right: if I really put myself into this and stop letting the doubts stand in my way, maybe I could make this work.
“I met a little man named Myra at the coffee station outside my office several days ago,” I told him. “He’s now my client.” I shook my head. “I don’t need the big guys; I need Myra.” Tears were in my eyes because now I knew where to put all my energy. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it was terrifying, and I’d still have to deal with my feelings for Grant, but that was exactly what I’d do. I’d deal with them. Because not even Grant was going to stand in my way. I didn’t want to lose what I had in Nashville, so I’d learn to control myself.
“Fuck Myra.” His words made me flinch. His jaw tightened as he leaned forward and once again picked up my hand and the ring and slid it back on my finger.
I was too stunned to stop him, too wrapped up in my realizations.
“Dammit, Pen, I thought you were stronger than this. I’m not going to let you ruin this for us. You’re going to move back here and take the job because that’s what sane Pen would do. Someday, you’ll thank me for pushing you through this dark time.”
I was done.
He didn’t deserve my sympathy. He wasn’t the victim here.
He was an ass.
“You know what? I don’t need to wait to thank you. Thank you. Thank you for showing me without any doubt that I’m doing the right thing. And in case you’re too thick to comprehend what I’m saying, let me lay it out for you.” I lifted his hand, took the ring off my finger, and jammed it onto his pinkie as far as it would go. Now, he was too stunned to do anything. “I don’t want you. I don’t want Hedge International. I don’t want the perfect little house you and my mother picked out for me.” I started to walk away, but I turned back. “You know what I do want?” I picked up my dessert plate and his. “I want this five-star chocolate torte.”
I clomped away in my too-tight heels and my mother’s silk dress, a little token that would forever be the reminder of the night I took my life back.
As I passed the bar, my phone rang. I set the tortes down on the counter, asked for them to be boxed up, and pulled out my cell. Erin. Impeccable timing.
“Hey, Erin. What’s up?”
“Hey. I know it’s kind of a weird hour on a Friday night, but I have some news. Am I disturbing?”
“Not at all, just dumping my boyfriend after he proposed to me.” I glanced behind me, wishing they’d hurry up with the tortes before Chad came out here.
“Whaaaat? Chad? Where are you?”
“W. A. Frost.”
“Like, five minutes from me W. A. Frost?”
“Yep.”
“OMG. My ex is on a date. You wanna come over?”
I hesitated; then a waiter handed me the boxed desserts. I certainly wasn’t going back to my mother’s. And I was going to need an assistant.
“Text me your address. Do you like chocolate torte?”