Chapter 12 #2
“It means that sometimes we’re just a supporting character in someone’s journey, and not their counterpart to go on that journey with them.
Until I read your book, all I knew was my heart and only parts of Selena that she shared with me.
After reading Selena’s point of view, I got to truly know her heart.
As much as I know she loves me and Sugarville, I don’t think she’d have quit her job and moved back.
It felt more like what was expected versus what was right for her. ”
“But she loves you.” My brows rise.
“Her keeping her career and staying in the city doesn’t change that.”
“Do you think I should have had you move to the city? But the bakery? Your family?” My eyes widen. “Do you think you two should stay broken up?”
Romance novels have rules. The couple can break up a million times and experience all sorts of relationship dysfunction throughout the narrative, but by the time the reader reaches The End, they need to be together.
It’s a hard rule; no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
Guilt churns at the idea that I somehow wrote a story where the ending isn’t happy.
“Sorry…” He frowns. “I may be overstepping. You’re the author. It’s your story.”
My gaze melds with his. “It’s not. Not anymore… Or maybe it never was. It’s your life. Selena and your lives. Just as it’s the others’ lives. I guess you’re given a chance most people aren’t. You know what’s going to happen, and if you’re not happy with that, how would you want to change it?”
“ If I could get back, you mean?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, hoping that I can find a way.
He sets the last biscuit on the baking sheet. “I’d still go to her, but sooner. Before she quits her job, so we could figure out a path forward, one where she doesn’t give up everything that she’s worked for.”
I cringe. “I really did lose my feminist card with that book.”
He chuckles. “It was a tough choice. I’d never want Selena to give up her passion, and she’d never let me desert my responsibilities in Sugarville.
That’s why we had our third-act breakup.
She believed it was what was best for me and her, even if it wasn’t what was best for us .
A solution without each giving up what’s important to us must exist. If I had the chance to do it again, I’d like to find that solution with her. For us to discover a way together.”
“And if not?”
A pensive expression shimmers in his features. “Then it was a beautiful love story about two people who were a portion of each other’s story. Not all couples are meant to be forever… Doesn’t mean it’s not romantic or unhappy. Some relationships are just meant to play a part.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I accept that may be the outcome, but I still hope for an ending with me a part of Selena’s story and her in mine. If we’re not, I’m still grateful for the time we had and wouldn’t change it.” He hands me the cookie sheet and then gestures for me to take it to the oven.
“You’re way more Zen than me.” Shaking my head, I move to the oven while he begins to cut out biscuits from my dough.
“It’s to be expected after what happened with Will.”
“Yeah.” The word comes out strangled.
No doubt my bigmouth younger brother has filled in the blanks with his CliffsNotes version of my last relationship.
While I bristle at the idea that Will’s fingerprints are all over my dismal romantic life since our breakup, I know it’s true.
Despite my brothers’ insinuation, I still put myself out there, though.
Bad date after worst date, I still try, because I believe in and hope for love.
I want love like in my books. Although I wonder how great the love in my books is, if the male main character questions whether he and the female lead are meant to be together. Maybe my heart is too broken to even write love, let alone find it.
“Will and I are in a different situation than you and Selena. You two only have geography and fears about making mistakes to get over. Will loved someone else.” I point to him, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.
I’m not entirely sure if the twinge is about Will or my possibly failed book happy ending.
“To quote Lord James, ‘He’s a fool.’ You’re utterly loveable, Georgia. If I wasn’t?—”
“In love with someone else.” My tease is laced with remorse. “Story of my life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” A ragged sigh heaves out of me. “For everything, but above all for?—”
“Me not being him .”
“Whomever him is,” I whisper, not saying the quiet part out loud. That ember of fear I try to snuff out: that he may not exist.
“For what it’s worth, I wish I were him for you.”
“Me too,” I murmur.
Falling for these men isn’t the plan. Still, a sense of loss hollows out inside me, as if I’m a jigsaw puzzle missing the final piece.
Without it, the picture isn’t quite right.
It’s not the idea that Owen isn’t the person I want to share my story with, but that it’s one more person who isn’t.
In the ebb and flow of how I feel about a life alone, at this moment it aches.
My smile is more for show, but I offer it, nonetheless. “It would be nice to have a boyfriend who bakes.”
He wipes his hands, grabs the second cookie sheet, and slides it into the oven with the one I just put in there. “In the meantime, you have a friend who bakes. In ten to fifteen minutes, we’ll have biscuits to celebrate the start of our friendship.”
“To friendship.” I put out my hand.
He takes it. “To friendship.”
Over two biscuits, each side smothered with homemade jam, we again toast to our new friendship.
Owen’s admission that, despite how much he loves Selena, he accepts that he may not end up with her, solidifies my resolve to get him back to her.
The depth of his love is evident in his willingness to sacrifice being with her for her sake.
It’s like how Selena sacrificed being with him to not take him away from his life in Sugarville.
They may not be perfect, but they are right for each other, and I want to get them back together.
I’ll go on my next two dates to decide between Lars and Lord James.
Both men appear less emotionally attached to their love interests than Owen, but, then again, they don’t wear their emotions on their faces like he does.
They’ll need to be unpeeled just a bit to discover which one will be less hurt to remain with me—if it comes to that.
I hope it doesn’t come to that . My goal is to get them all back. To give them a chance to write their own happy endings. But if I have to choose one to get the other two back, I’ll do it. Even if the idea of stealing what should be someone else’s happy ending makes me queasy.
“I know we just gorged on biscuits, but what are your thoughts on dessert for dinner?” I ask, the leftover biscuits in a box in my hands, as I follow Owen towards Special Ingredient’s entrance.
He holds the door for me. “Dessert for dinner? You’re speaking my love language.” He smirks. “Friendship language rather.”
Laughing, I shuffle out. The lukewarm evening air kisses my skin. This time of year, Southern California teeters between summer and coming fall, with hot days and nights that are both coolish and warmish.
“There’s this amazing ice cream place around the block?—”
“Peach?” A low timbre steals my words. The almost lush deepness thrums through me.