Chapter 15
Jenna
Of course Abby is going to come in and visit today. Of course she is. How did I not see that coming from a mile away?
“So, now that you’re back in town, I suppose you and Nate are going to get back together?”
“Maybe,” I say, and maybe it’s my imagination, but I feel like Nate wants to leap across the room at that small glimmer of hope.
I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I know what my decision is, but Abby is not going to be the first person to know.
“I just happen to be cleaning out my storage area, and I came across this.” She indicates the book she’s clutching to her chest. “I thought you might want to see it.” She looks around the store at the trains that are running, making little buzzing noises and blowing the occasional horn. Then her eyes land on the display. “You got candy canes after all?”
“Was there ever any doubt?” I ask, wondering at her words.
“Well, since your boxes got rerouted, I wasn’t sure whether they were going to get here in time, and all in one piece either,” she says, shrugging a thin shoulder.
The only people who knew about what happened were Nate, Aunt Janet, and me. It makes me wonder if Abby had something to do with the rerouting. And then I remember that her brother works in a shipping warehouse somewhere in PA. I’m not sure exactly where, but maybe he has the clout to be able to intercept the package and reroute it.
I guess it doesn’t matter, because I feel like it worked out for the best. I’m much happier with the display that we have made than any that we might have done using candy canes that weren’t crushed. Actually, I do feel a string of anger tightening my ribs, but I feel more pity than anything. Abby seems little and hateful, and I don’t really understand people who take pleasure in other people’s pain.
“Anyway, I’m just down the sidewalk if you need me. I think I’ll just leave this here. You can return it whenever you want to.” She laughs a little. “Unless you want to burn it.” She gives me a tight smile, and her expression is not kind, but I feel like I see the pain in her eyes. She’s been hurt too. And I can understand pain. Maybe that’s one of the blessings that comes from what I went through. I have a lot more compassion for other people’s pain and suffering.
Still, she’s out the door and past the window, giving our display a dismissive glance, before I look at the counter and see what she set there.
It’s the yearbook open to the page where she’s kissing Nate.
I expect the sharp pain that pierces through my chest. Heartache is a literal, physical pain, in case you didn’t know. It hurts, in a literal sense.
What I’m not expecting is the peace that follows it. That’s part of my past. Part of my history, and part of the history of the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I have to be okay with it. Have to be okay with the fact that it will be there forever, at least as long as yearbooks last. How long does it take for them to decompose?
I smile and look up to see that Nate has moved across the room and now stands just a foot away from me, one hand on the counter, his eyes on me.
I can tell from his expression that he’s looked at the yearbook and he knows exactly what picture it is open to.
“I know you must hate me,” he says, pain and compassion making his voice sound low and rough.
“No. You said earlier today that you never stopped loving me, and I could say the same thing. I never, not for one minute, stopped loving you. I hurt, I cried, I railed against what you had done to me, but I never wanted to hurt you back. Never wanted to do anything that would keep you from being the man God wanted you to be.”
He stands and stares at me for a moment, then he moves forward slowly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Do you mean that?”
I nod. “I do. I guess, I guess I need to stop being afraid. Because you’re the kind of man that a girl should do whatever it takes in order to be with you.”
“No. You’re right to be afraid. I didn’t do right by you. I should have done a lot of things differently.”
“Maybe both of us should have. I don’t know. I just know that I wouldn’t want you to change anything. As much as I thought I would never say that.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyes narrowing, his face twisting into disbelief. Like he can’t figure out what in the world I could possibly be saying.
“Yes. Really. If I hadn’t gone through the pain, I wouldn’t understand it in anyone else. Wouldn’t know that heartache is a literal, physical pain. I wouldn’t be able to look at Abby right now and see the pain in her eyes. To know that she put this in front of me—” I point to the yearbook, put my finger on the picture, right there where the man in front of me is kissing someone else. I know it’s just days after he had broken up with me. “—because she hurts. And I guess hurting people want to hurt other people. Because misery loves company.”
“That’s the truth.”
I know it. I was tempted to hurt people when I was hurting.
“But I don’t want to mess around. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it.” I smile up into his eyes. That’s how I feel. I am going to jump, and I’m going to go all in. That’s why it hurt so bad the first time. Because that’s the way I am. All in.
He laughs, but he pulls me closer at the same time. He knows exactly how I am. That I’m the kind of person who doesn’t do things halfway.
“That’s one of the things I love about you,” he says as his hand moves through my hair, and his lips press against my forehead.
“You smell nice,” he whispers softly.
“You smell so familiar. Like everything I love, all the good memories.”
“There’s some bad memories there too.”
“We forget those. Although, I don’t forget how good you were at kissing.”
“I think I could use a little more practice,” he says. “I’m kind of rusty.”
“I suppose I could make the sacrifice and help you get better.”
Our eyes twinkle together as his head slowly lowers, and this kiss feels familiar and brand-new all at the same time, and everything about it feels absolutely perfect.