Chapter 9
Jenna
He stops short and looks me in the eye. I know how he is. He always loved a challenge, and if there was a little bit of danger in that challenge, it made it even sweeter for him.
His eyes light up when I interject my dangerous comment, and he nods slowly. “You remember that about me.”
“I sure do. You were as loyal as the day was long, at least I thought.” I probably shouldn’t have added that, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s true. I thought he would be loyal to me until the day he died. “And you did like a challenge.”
“I’m still loyal. Believe it or not, I’ve been loyal for the last eight years.”
“I’d believe that, except there are some pictures in our yearbook that say that’s not true.”
I hate to hit him where it hurts, but it’s true. He can’t give me those lines and expect that I’m going to fall for them like I used to. He was kissing Abby, and I have the pictures to prove it. Everyone has the pictures to prove it.
“I know you’re not going to believe this, but I was not expecting her to kiss me. She did it specifically for the cameras.”
“I have other pictures that look like you’re having a really great time. And I don’t think she made you put your arm around her, just for the cameras.”
“No, you’re right.” He lets out a breath. “But she didn’t feel like you.”
“I would think not. She’s skinnier than I am, for one.” It’s true. She still is, even though she owns a candy shop. I was never a toothpick and always a little more...chunky. I just have to watch what I eat. Which isn’t any fun, and I was always jealous of people like Abby who could eat whatever they wanted to and still stay thin.
After Nate left, I lost thirty pounds, which my family said I didn’t have to lose, but for once, I was super thin, and I guess I see that as one good thing about what happened.
“Is she? I guess I don’t care. I just know she wasn’t you. And no one else has ever been you.”
Nate is looking into my eyes, and it’s hard for me to look away. I find my breath coming harder, and I’m almost relieved when the waitress comes back to take our orders.
I think Nate is a little annoyed. I know he wants to talk about this, and I just want to push it aside.
“I don’t know what to do about the candy cane display,” I say as soon as the waitress leaves. I don’t want to talk about our relationship, or the fact that we used to have one, or the idea that we might start up again. I can feel that I want to. Part of me is whispering that I need to give him another chance, that I need to forgive. It’s pretty loud, but the part of me that was hurt is absolutely not the slightest bit interested.
“So I was thinking about that. Hear me out,” he says, holding his hand out, like I am going to interrupt him. Which I am not. I would love to hear any ideas he has. I feel like I could really be pulling my weight and helping my aunt if I can pull this thing off.
“We have a ton of chunks of candy canes. What if we somehow made large candy canes out of... I don’t know, some kind of Styrofoam? And then, we’d put glue on them and glue all the candy cane pieces onto the large candy canes. We use those large candy canes as a centerpiece and decorate the rest of the area in both windows with red and white cotton or some kind of cotton material.”
I hadn’t considered that. I thought that I needed real candy canes, but this... This might work.
“That’s a great spin on an old idea. I... I actually think it’s brilliant.” I can see it in my head. I don’t know where we would find red cotton. It might have to be something else. But we could...definitely make that work.
“We only have one day to do it,” I say, trying to figure out where we can get the Styrofoam and still trying to get the background pictured in my head.
“But I think we have enough candy cane chunks for four candy canes. Maybe even more.”
“I agree. I suppose we don’t want to get too wild and crazy, because we don’t want to run out of chunks.”
“I agree. It would be better to have some left over. We could...decorate the cotton with them or something.”
“We could make a few smaller candy canes and glue them together to look like a fence, if we have any left over.”
I’m actually starting to get excited. This could really work. I had been so dejected, so sure that everything was ruined, that I hadn’t even thought about using the chunks.
“I’m going to try it!” I say. I know my eyes are bright and I look excited.
“You’re going to let me help, right? After all, it was my idea.”
I look at him, and I can tell he’s admiring the excitement on my face, but I can also tell that he’s suffered. He feels bad for what’s happened, and I know that he is sincere in his apology.
Still, it’s not that I want to punish him or make him hurt anymore, it’s that I don’t want to get hurt again. I barely survived the first time. I can’t take a second.
But my heart keeps saying that I need to give him a chance.