Chapter 38
Ali
Ilifted my hand to his door and paused mid-knock. What if he wasn’t home? He could be on a run.
My watch said it was a little after eleven—almost lunchtime. Much later than Jake’s preferred time to run. I loved that I knew that about him.
Asher hadn’t been kidding about wanting to leave first thing in the morning. We were on the road by six a.m. I loved how devoted Asher was to his family and his community. He dropped me off at Jake’s driveway, and I thanked him and told him to send photos and a video clip from the band concert.
Now it was just me and my choice to come here unannounced and let it all out.
Tell Jake all the things I felt and loved about him.
I pictured myself standing at his front door with a guttural noise coming out of my mouth, completely paralyzed with fear of rejection and dismissal.
So I wrote it all down in the car so I wouldn’t freeze up and forget.
It had been three weeks. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, but that didn’t mean he was in the same place.
That didn’t mean he hadn’t moved on. Maybe he was online dating.
Or maybe he’d met someone at his clinic or at the Tavern.
And it would be all my fault if he had. Because I left.
I let him go. I couldn’t form the words that would have told him how I felt—not then, at least. Now I came prepared with notes.
He’ll be home. Here it goes.
I rapped my knuckles on Jake’s front door, my heart pounding with anticipation.
The door lock clicked. The door started to drag open. I dipped my hand in my tote bag on my shoulder to grab my notes so I could launch right into what I wanted to say. Nerves were not going to thwart this grand gesture.
My back straightened. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I couldn’t wait to see his face.
But it wasn’t Jake who opened the door.
It was Charlotte. And she looked . . . mussed. Sex hair. She definitely had sex hair.
“Um . . .” My breath hitched. I think my body even jerked to make a run for it. Flee. My MO. I stopped myself, though, and turned back to Charlotte in the doorway. “Is Jake home?”
Please say you’re house-sitting or something.
“He’s on a run. We had a late night,” she said impishly. Suggestively.
The back of my throat burned. I was going to be sick.
Then she stepped out from behind the door. And the world stopped. Everything froze.
She was bare-legged. Sex hair all over. Wearing only a T-shirt.
Twenty-Fourth Annual Fun Run printed on the front.
It had a familiar bloom of pink from some laundry mishap before my time at the right-side hem.
It was Jake’s T-shirt. The one we’d designated only to be worn by me.
The one he loved seeing me wear. The one I was wearing when he told me he was falling in love with me.
And now it was on her body. Post long night with her. Did that mean they slept together? Did he tell her he was falling in love with her too while she wore it?
“Would you like to leave a message for him?” she asked, snapping me out of my daze.
“No. Um . . . that’s not necessary,” I stammered, breathless.
“It’s Ali, right? It’s nice to see you again.”
“Right. Um. Thanks.” My mouth formed words, but I didn’t know what I was saying.
I was ready to cry. To scream. To run away. Or maybe to stay and demand answers.
Answers to what, though? Jake did nothing wrong. In fact, he did exactly what I’d encouraged him to do. It was me who left.
Leaving felt like the only thing to do now too.
I turned and left.
Charlotte closed the door with a hard push. I heard the lock click from the inside.
I ran next door to my cabin. Misha and Eric were snuggling on the couch. I felt terrible for barging in on them.
“Babe! You’re here. I didn’t know you were coming,” Misha said.
Then he saw the look on my face. Eric stood up and took their mugs away.
“I’ll put on a fresh kettle,” he said as he left the room.
“Honey pie, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Misha asked.
I started gasping for air.
Misha came to me and wrapped his arm on either side of my body and helped walk me to the couch.
“She . . . I . . . He . . .” I couldn’t even form sentences.
“Is this a heart attack?” I was wheezing. “It hurts, like, way too much right here.” I pressed into the part of my chest that ached with sharp pangs. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
Misha grabbed my wrist to check my pulse and started to look at his watch while he held my wrist.
“Give me your hands. Look at me. Breathe with me.” I focused on Misha, and together we slowed down my breathing.
“When did you learn how to stop a heart attack?” I asked incredulously.
“I didn’t. But I recognize all this”—he pointed his finger around my face—“as heartbreak not heart attack. And a panic attack.” He scrutinized my face.
Eric brought in two mugs of tea for us before leaving the room again.
“Eric. You don’t have to go. I’m so sorry I barged in on you like this.”
“It’s okay, Ali. I’ll grab my mug and join you if you want me to.”
I nodded to let him know I did.
“What happened? Start at the beginning,” Misha instructed.
So I did. I told them all about the presentation with Asher.
My run-in with Molly. My conversation with Dad that had cracked something open.
How I’d finally admitted—to myself at least—that I loved my life in Lakeside.
That I was so in love with Jake. How I rode back with Asher this morning to fix it.
And the sight that undid it all.
“No way. I don’t buy it,” Misha said. “Jake’s been moping around for weeks and suddenly, last night, he decides to rekindle with his ex? Not buying it.”
“Maybe he was lonely. Or maybe having space to think helped him realize he missed her. I knew she would jump at the chance,” I said bitterly.
“I agree with Misha. He’s still not over you. There’s no way,” Eric added.
“But she was pantsless. She had sex hair. And she was wearing a T-shirt that Jake had given me to wear after our first time together. It’s stupid, but seeing her wearing that T-shirt gutted me. Also did I mention the sex hair?” I said.
“I think you need to talk to him. We can CSI this all we want, but it’s all speculation, really,” Eric said.
“Her wearing the T-shirt was not speculation. I saw it with my own two eyes.” I felt my panic percolating again.
“Are you sure it was the same one? Like maybe she owns the same T-shirt and just happened to be wearing it with hottie-hot length shorts?” Misha asked.
“It’s possible on the shorts. But the T-shirt was definitely the same one. I know because of the bleach stain on the side. Misha, I’m telling you it was the one.” I stood up to walk off my anxiety. I shook my hands at my sides.
“I have to get out of here. What time is it?” I asked, looking at the clock on the microwave in the kitchen. “Will you drop me off at the bus depot? I can still make the bus back to Chicago if we leave now.”
“Yes, of course, babe. But are you sure? You don’t want to wait until Jake comes back from his run so you two can talk?” Misha asked as he walked in front of me and hunched so he could look me directly in the eyes.
“I’m sure. I can’t talk to him like this. Besides, I don’t think I want to know all the details. I don’t think I can take it,” I admitted.
“You are Alison Fucking Bennet. You can do anything,” Misha said, trying to hype me up the way he usually did.
“Not with this. Not today,” I said more quietly. Seriously.
“Okay.” Misha nodded. “Let’s go.” He grabbed his keys from the key hook on the wall.