Chapter Twenty-Three
Jess
Is there anything more depressing than coming home to an empty house two days before Christmas feeling absolutely destroyed, mentally and emotionally?
That’s a rhetorical question.
I let myself into my apartment after an hour-and-a-half train ride and a subway transfer and a ten-minute walk through the brisk cold, my overnight bag slung over my arm, a literal weight on my shoulder to mimic the figurative one in my heart. The snow is no longer pouring down from the heavens, but it still litters the sidewalks, and the gray sky still hangs heavy and foreboding. But the weather doesn’t matter much at this point. I’m back at home with nowhere to go and no one to see.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. I’m still scheduled for a shift at the coffee shop tomorrow, a real jolt back to reality. As much as so much of this past week sucked, it was a glimpse at life as a full-time writer, a glimpse I sort of hate to give up. But I text Morgan to let her know I’m back in town and that I’ll be in tomorrow, before I can let myself dwell on it too much. I need the money, and tips should be good on Christmas Eve.
After a long hot shower, I put on my coziest sweats and climb into bed. It’s not even close to bedtime yet, but I don’t really care at this point. I need comfort and reality TV escapism, and to not think about Nick Matthews for a few minutes.
Ha.
Like that’s going to happen.
Once I get a vintage episode of Real Housewives going, I take out my phone and open my very much neglected text chain with Alyssa and Kennedy.
Me: I made it back home!
Maybe the exclamation point will fool them into thinking I’m totally fine.
Alyssa: Yay!!! How was the rest of the time at the inn?
We both know what she’s asking, but I love her for not coming right out and saying it.
Me: It was fine.
Ten seconds later, my phone rings with a request for a FaceTime. I sigh, pausing the show so I can answer the call. When it connects, both of my best friends are there on the screen, wearing almost identical looks, though Alyssa’s holds a tinge more sympathy while Kennedy’s firmly says I told you so .
“Spill,” Kennedy directs.
There is no denying her. “We slept together.”
They take in a collective breath.
“He told me he’s still in love with me, has always been in love with me, really.”
Alyssa swoons. “Ohmygod, that is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of in real life! You two got trapped together in a cozy Christmas inn, you only had one bed, and your second-chance romance ended with him telling you he’s always loved you!”
Kennedy clears her throat. “In case you missed it, Lys, she’s sitting in her bed in sweats by herself. Something tells me that’s not exactly how it ended.”
Alyssa’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah, unfortunately this didn’t exactly play out like it would in one of our books.” I reach for the glass of wine I wisely brought into bed with me and take a long swig. “I think I might be living a real-life Nick Matthews ending.”
“What happened?” Kennedy asks quietly.
“If I’m being honest, there was a moment there, maybe more than a moment, when I thought we were going to end up back together.” I take another drink. “But then he told me the reason he broke up with me five years ago.”
“The sex was so good you thought you might get back together?” Kennedy interjects, bringing some much-needed lightness to the conversation.
“God yes. It was incredible.” I have to clench my thighs together just thinking about it.
“Good sex is great, and necessary, but I want to know more about what he told you,” Alyssa says. “What exactly did he say that was so terrible?”
I blow out a short breath. “It was a many-pronged explanation, but the real crux of it is that his friend Marcus, who works in marketing, told him he would probably sell a lot more books if he was single and could play up the whole real-life book boyfriend angle.”
Kennedy’s lips purse so tightly I’m afraid she’ll never be able to separate them, but then she does. “What the fuck?”
“He actually said that to you?” Alyssa’s voice is soft and tinged with worry.
“He also said he thought there was a chance that if I was publicly connected to him, it would overshadow my own success. Like people might think I only got published because I’m dating him.”
Kennedy’s brow scrunches. “Do you think he really thought that or is that just an excuse to make him not look so completely terrible?”
I shrug, but I know in my heart Nick wasn’t lying. “I don’t doubt that that’s how he felt in the moment.”
“I don’t think he would lie about the breakup, not if at the same time he’s telling you that he always loved you.” Alyssa and Nick hung out several times while we were dating, and she always did adore him. I think she was just as devastated when he dumped me as I was.
“There’s one other thing.” I finish my glass of wine for liquid courage. “He overheard us in the kitchen, that Christmas right before we signed our contracts, when we’d both already gotten our deals.”
Kennedy’s look of confusion makes it clear she doesn’t remember, but Alyssa’s sympathetic smile shows she does.
“You said you didn’t know if you could do it,” she says quietly.
I nod. “Yup. Maybe if he hadn’t overheard me saying that, he never would have broken up with me in the first place. Maybe the whole thing is all my fault.”
“He should have talked to you about it first.” Kennedy defends my honor, like I knew she would.
“He was probably feeling hurt and didn’t know how to broach the subject with her.” Alyssa fights for love, like I knew she would.
“Still, taking everything into account, he should have been mature enough to have an honest conversation. If he really thought he might be hurting Jess’s career, he should have explained that to her and let her decide what she wanted to do. He didn’t have the right to make that choice for her.” Kennedy walks into her own kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. Good to know my problems are so bad my friends need to drink to help me handle them.
“No way,” Alyssa argues. “How could he put her in that position, forcing her to choose between him and the success she’d always wanted? It would have been an impossible choice, and if Jess had to make it, it would have caused her a lot of pain.”
“But it was still her choice. She had the right to make it, not him.”
Alyssa shakes her head. “Nope. He did the right thing by bowing out, even if there were other, more selfish motivations at play too.”
“He broke her heart!”
“Hi, friends. I am still, in fact, sitting right here while you argue over the merits of my career and relationship status.”
Both of them look appropriately shamed.
I sigh. “Look. Assuming Nick really was conflicted about the whole career thing, I don’t really know what the best choice would have been. Honestly, I think if he had presented me with the situation, I probably would have chosen him, even if I did think it would hurt my book sales.” And then, chances are, I would have had the same disappointing career I do now, but I would also have had the man I love by my side for the past five years.
Kennedy wrinkles her nose. Alyssa swoons.
“And then I would have probably grown to resent him, standing by his side watching him get all the things I’m still waiting for.” I know as I speak the words, that they are undoubtedly true. If I was already struggling at the outset, how would I have felt watching Nick achieve everything he’s achieved over the past few years while I continued to struggle? I’d like to think I would have been happy for him, and I’m sure a large part of me would have—hell, even broken up, I still have looked at his career accomplishments with pride. But there would have been envy too, and I don’t know that that envy wouldn’t have eaten away at us.
Maybe Nick really did do us a favor.
A silence falls between the three of us.
“So what do I do now?” I ask after a quiet minute.
“I don’t think we can answer that for you,” Kennedy says. “Has enough really changed since then? What would be different this time around?”
“I think you just need to take care of yourself. It’s almost Christmas. Maybe you should take tonight to wallow, but spend tomorrow doing some of your favorite holiday things.”
I nod at Alyssa’s suggestion, knowing I will be spending a good chunk of the day tomorrow serving people their holiday drinks while they go about their merry lives, not mired in thoughts of Christmases past.
“Whatever you decide to do, you know we’re here.” Kennedy raises her glass to me, a virtual toast.
“I know. Thank you, guys, really. You’re the best.”
“We know.”
I wave and blow them both kisses before exiting from the call and turning back to the Real Housewives . Burrowing deeper into bed, I pull the covers all the way up to my chin. I don’t know what to make of the conversation with my friends, other than no one can really tell me what to do in this situation. I know Kennedy’s right about one thing—I need to really think about what’s changed, not just for Nick, but for me too. If we give this thing a real shot, am I in a good enough place now where I can handle the differences in our careers?
In the meantime, because I have gifted myself this period of wallowing, I allow myself to really sink into it. My bed is very cold and could certainly benefit from a very hot and hunky writer warming the sheets next to me. Has my bed always been this big? It feels a lot emptier all of a sudden.
Ugh. The last thing I need to be doing right now is thinking about Nick Matthews in my bed. If we hadn’t ended up in a room with only one bed, none of this would have happened. This shit is not supposed to happen in real life.
I’m about to go pour myself some more wine—and by that I mean grab the bottle and bring it back with me—when my phone dings with a text.
I expect it to be Alyssa, gracing me with some cheerful words of wisdom, but it’s not one of my friends’ names that I see on the screen.
Nick: Did you make it home safely?
I really wish the sight of his name didn’t send a whirl of snowflakes fluttering through my chest.
Me: Yup. Home and in bed with a glass of wine and the Real Housewives.
And maybe I should be laying off the wine because he definitely didn’t need to know any of that.
Nick: Your favorite place to be. I’m glad you made it back in time for Christmas. I’m sure you’ve got big plans for your favorite holiday.
Me: I don’t have plans for Christmas Day, actually. Alyssa was supposed to come up before the storm canceled her flight, and my parents are out of town.
Me: But none of that matters to you because we are supposed to be not talking right now.
I type and send the message, but I don’t really feel any truth in the words. If anything, I find myself wanting to talk to him.
Nick: Shit. I’m sorry. You told me you need space and I fully plan to give it to you.
Nick: I just miss you already.
Nick: And I’m sorry, again. For everything.
Nick: Have a merry Christmas, Jess.
Me: Yeah. You too.
My fingers dig into the sides of my phone, and it’s a good thing it’s made of strong stuff because my grip is so tight I’m surprised the whole thing doesn’t snap in half.
He misses me.
It’s easy to believe that part of it, because even though I don’t really want to admit it to myself, I miss him too. Having Nick back in my life, just for a few short days, was enough to remind me how good we were together. And even if I can’t end up forgiving him, or if it does turn out neither of us has grown enough to be able to come back together in a healthy relationship, it doesn’t change the fact that I really loved him.
That I might love him still.
I jump up from my bed, thankful that I am the kind of person who never immediately unpacks after returning from a trip because it means my laptop is still in my bag at the foot of my bed. I grab my computer and bring it with me back under the covers.
Nick and I still haven’t figured out how we want to end our story, but right now, I’m in the perfect mental state to write a devastating third-act breakup.