Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
F or a woman who was known for romance movies, it probably came as a surprise to many that she’d always hated Valentine’s Day. But this year held an even deeper dread, as she knew this would be the day that would break a heart. Possibly two.
But since the wrap party, the questions she’d been wrestling with for days had contended also with a new fear. Because Zac had withdrawn. She’d sensed his withdrawal, the distance he’d put between them, like he too had realized their agreement was coming to an end and it was best to harden his heart before feelings got more painful. And while part of her hoped he could do this, for his sake anyway, the old patterns of insecurity and self-preservation shrieked no, no, no, begging her to push him away to protect her heart before letting him break it.
The Teahouse adjoining Stanley Park was filled with couples who were all about the romance. Tea candles and white tablecloths, red roses in crystal vases, hors d’oeuvres shaped in hearts. She wasn’t sure whether the food they served here qualified as healthy and clean, but Zac had chosen it, so he must’ve known what the menu would consist of.
The fact he had chosen this venue made her wonder if he chose it because it would be more difficult to create a scene. Or maybe he was just nice. What would she know? She’d never had a real boyfriend before and he was so nice and had been acting exactly like what she wanted, but was that acting, with him just following her cues and script? Or was it real?
She glanced at the fire crackling in the stone fireplace, their table positioned between it and a window that probably looked out on the ocean during the day. The place was elegant, refined, and warm.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” His smile was warm, but was that real?
“Yes.” That wasn’t real either. Because this wasn’t nice. This was agony.
She pasted on a broader smile as various couples glanced at them, then murmured to each other. She saw a few people take sneaky pics, which reminded her that they needed a photo, one last proof of their fake relationship before they went their separate ways. “Hey, do you mind if we get a photo?”
“You want me to ask a waiter to take it?”
“Sure.”
Zac nodded and a waiter obliged them and she smiled, knowing the dim light would make her red dress and diamond necklace glow. Zac reached across to hold her hand, and she obliged. Fake, fake, fake until the end.
“Thanks.” Zac sent her the photo, and she uploaded it then put her phone away.
The last photo, the last meal. All of this would soon end.
“So, have you decided what you want to eat?” he asked.
“No.”
Studying the menu gave a chance to breathe. To gather herself. But hiding behind it also reminded her of that time in the café when they’d first shared a meal—or at least a cup of tea, and they’d agreed on this sham relationship. They’d agreed . Why was she feeling so bad when they’d both agreed to this?
“The fish looks good,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“And the steak.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Ains.”
She glanced at him. Then lowered her eyes. That look in his eyes said he knew. Oh, why were they still here? They had their photo, Rosie would be happy. Tonight they’d go their separate ways and all would be okay. It would have to be.
“We can go if you want,” he said quietly.
And go where? Surely it was better to eat rather than have everyone wonder why they had showed up and then exited without eating? That would just cause more gossip.
“I think I’d like the Teahouse salad,” she said.
“That’s all?”
“I’m not hungry.” And she strongly suspected guilt would not let her eat more than a few mouthfuls.
His face fell, and she felt the knife twist a little harder. “But you get what you want though.”
“I don’t think I’ll be getting what I want tonight.”
She sucked in another breath, but before she could ask what he meant, the waiter appeared again. “Have we made a selection?”
Oh, she’d made a selection. A selection of bad decisions, starting with insisting this be fake. She’d never forgive herself.
“Ains?”
“I… I’d like the Teahouse salad please.”
“I’ll have the salmon.”
“Excellent choices, can I say.”
No, this wasn’t an excellent choice.
She felt so uncertain about so many things, not least the guilt that she felt right now. She had manipulated Zac as much as Baden had manipulated her. She lowered her head.
“Ainsley? Did you want anything else?”
So much. Her aunt to live. The planning permission granted. A career she actually wanted. An agent who understood her and chose jobs she could believe in. Zac.
She closed her eyes.
“Thanks, but I think we’re fine,” Zac murmured.
“I’ll get some more water for the table,” the waiter said.
“Thanks.”
She peered across the candle to where Zac eyed her with concern. “Ainsley, what’s wrong?”
Finally, the moment of truth. She swallowed. Swallowed again. Still couldn’t find enough moisture so drank her entire glass of water in one go.
His lips curved to one side. “Careful. I don’t want you to drown.”
But if she drowned then she wouldn’t have to say, “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I know you’re tired and life has been a little crazy lately.”
So crazy. But, “That’s not it.”
“Ains.”
Was it better to break up before their meals were served or after?
As if to help with that decision, the waiter returned with a basket of bread. Zac offered it to her but she declined. He drew out a piece and buttered it.
“What happened to Mr. Clean and Green?”
“I suspect I might be needing some carbs tonight.”
And she would be needing chocolate.
A tinkle of laughter, and “Oh yes, of course I’ll marry you!” drew her attention to a nearby couple who were hugging, no, kissing so enthusiastically it brought a blush.
She half-smiled at Zac, and he half-smiled back, as if recognizing that was the exact same kind of kiss they’d shared during the first seconds of this year.
“Congratulations,” various voices called to the happy couple.
“We’re getting married!” the woman said.
Zac sipped his water. “Luc Blanchard is planning to pop the question to Bailey tonight.”
“Hopefully not in his little green shorts.”
He laughed, and for a moment, she thought the evening could be salvaged. Maybe they could just ignore the significance of today’s date, and concentrate on the date itself, enjoy a meal, share more laughs…
But there remained things that needed to be said, and the longer she put it off the harder this would be.
“You look really beautiful,” Zac murmured.
“It’s the same dress I had on New Year’s Eve.”
“I know. I remember that night.”
Her eyes filled as his gaze said he remembered everything about that night. Their dance. Their kiss. The time when feelings had gotten real.
“Can I top up your drinks?” the waiter asked.
“I’m fine,” Ainsley said, and Zac also declined.
The room filled with murmurs, and another proposal. Clearly this was a popular place for expressing love on Valentine’s Day. But for all she’d learned about what real love looked like, she now knew what she’d been projecting wasn’t real love at all. She hadn’t been kind. She’d manipulated and lied. She had been fearful, selfish. This moment now was about trying to be brave and unselfish, for his benefit. She ducked her head, playing with the tablecloth.
Their meals were served, and thank goodness, the next few minutes could be glossed through with observations on their food, and how tasty and beautiful it was. That was no lie.
The waiter returned, and cleared their plates, and she looked across to see one of the newly-engaged couples murmur to each other. “Don’t bother them,” the woman murmured.
Ainsley pressed her lips together and glanced down. One guess whom they meant.
A cleared throat drew her attention up along with her fake smile. But then it struck her—why was she smiling at this couple she didn’t know, when she couldn’t find one for this man who had helped her through so much?
“We’re so sorry to bother you, but would it be okay if we get a photo with you, Zac?”
“Uh, we’re kind of—”
“See?” the woman hissed. “Nobody wants to be interrupted.”
“I just thought it’d be the perfect way to end our evening,” the man complained.
Ainsley swallowed. Found a smile. “I can take your picture if you like.”
“You would?”
She ignored Zac’s expression, focused on the couple’s joy. “Sure.”
“Actually,” their helpful waiter returned, “I can take a picture of all of you if you like.”
Ainsley sighed. So this would be their last photo together.
But no, after that picture was taken, it seemed to be invitation for a number of others to request theirs be taken too.
She could tell Zac was getting impatient, so she stood. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”
Zac’s brows rose, in a silent inquiry as if questioning if she wanted dessert. She shook her head. The girl might need chocolate—would definitely need chocolate after this conversation finally happened—but it seemed that would not take place today.
“I’m so sorry if those requests were out of line,” their waiter said. “I can organize a to-go dessert tray if you like.”
“Sure,” Zac said, as she said, “No thanks.”
He looked at her. “You don’t want dessert?”
“I don’t want to have to wait around—”
“We can bring it out straightaway,” the waiter hurried to say. “I’ll be right back.”
“Looks like we’re getting dessert,” Zac murmured.
Looked like the night would be prolonged even more.
They were still on show for a little while, so she moved beside him, tempted to slip her arm around him, then realized that would only prolong the agony and lead to confusing already messy feelings, so it was best not to do that.
The waiter returned, handed Zac the dessert, already bagged in a brown paper carryout bag. Zac went to pay, but the waiter waved off his card. “No, there’s no charge. I apologize for the disturbance from the other guests.”
“They didn’t disturb us,” Ainsley said. “I insisted.” The ensuing chaos was her fault. Ainsley’s fault. Again.
Zac tried to pay again but the waiter only smiled. “If you feel like mentioning our name when you post about your wonderful date, then we won’t object. And you know you’re always welcome to come again.”
“Sure.” Zac’s tone was flat. “Thank you.”
She slipped the dessert bag from his hand and peeked inside. Then gently lifted out the tray of deliciousness, and posed it in front of the sign. Then took a picture. Yep, that would do. Then thanked the waiter and assured him she’d post something very soon.
She walked with Zac to his Porsche, and spent the trip back to her apartment writing a quick post, then scheduled it to appear in two days, with appropriate tags and hashtags.
“All done?” Zac asked.
“Yes.” Honestly, what was she doing posting about a restaurant in the dying minutes of their last date? Sometimes she really had no clue.
He pulled into her apartment’s parking area, and parked. Then hesitated.
“Did you want to come up?”
“Sure.”
Once upstairs, she shifted the vase of his red roses from the table and got two plates and spoons. The desserts needed to be eaten before they melted any more.
“Want some?”
“No.”
“Still eating clean?”
He sighed. “Ainsley, eat it or don’t, but you and I both know we need to talk.”
She sank onto the dining chair, and carved off a piece of chocolate Milano cake. Ate it. Savored the sweetness she’d need for the next part of this evening.
“Was that good?”
“It’s really good. You should try some.”
He shook his head. Sighed.
So this was it. “Zac.”
“Ainsley.” He studied her, his eyes dark and sad. “Can we please stop with the games?”
She pressed her lips together. Nodded.
“I’m dying here,” he said. “I know we agreed to date until Valentine’s Day, but here we are, and I don’t know about you, but it feels all kinds of wrong and weird.”
“Wrong and weird?”
He exhaled heavily. “Look, we should’ve been out on a date, enjoying ourselves like every other couple there, but instead we’re still playing these stupid games of pretend and I… I don’t want to do that anymore.”
Fear gripped her. He was about to dump her. Just like all the others. She was too much, too broken, always making mistakes. Panic crept higher, as her chest tightened, the bodice of her dress swelling as she struggled to breathe.
“Ains, there’s something you should know.”
She internally braced.
“I always wanted this to be real.”
What?
And what did he mean “wanted”? Was that past tense? So he didn’t want that now? Her heart clenched. He didn’t want that now. She caught his last words. “But you said—” Nothing was making sense anymore. “Always?”
“Always.”
She swallowed. “Even when you agreed that we would keep this platonic? Are you saying even then you were wanting us to be real?”
“I did.” He reached across the table, but she moved her hand away.
She couldn’t let him touch her. Everything she thought she’d known felt like life was tilting once again. “So you lied to me.”
“No, I—”
“You just admitted that you lied to me.” She pushed back in her seat.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe that that’s what you’re hearing right now.”
“That’s what I’m hearing? Are you trying to gaslight me?”
“Ainsley, no. Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do—? You sound just like all the others. Blaming me when you’re the one who’s done something wrong.”
“Me? You’re the one who came up with this ridiculous idea pretending we were a couple. What did you think was gonna happen?”
“You agreed. You promised not to fall in love.”
“Who says I’m in love?”
He wasn’t? “Tonight’s meal, this romantic date—”
“Was a sham, Ainsley. Because that’s what you do. You play pretend. You didn’t realize that there were real feelings involved and people could get really hurt.”
“I don’t want to listen to this.”
“You need to.” He gripped her hands suddenly. “Look, I know you told me a thousand times this was fake and wasn’t real, and I know I agreed. But to be completely honest, it was really hard because I already had feelings for you. I think you’re pretty awesome. But I also tried to keep that contained, and be the friend you wanted me to be. Then I became your friend, and learned all these other awesome things about you. But—”
Oh, that word was never a good one to pause on.
“But lately I’ve noticed how stressed you’ve been, and I don’t want to be adding to your pressure. Ainsley, I’m worried about you. Others are worried about you. You need to find out what God is wanting you to do without all this extra noise and chaos and clutter, and I know me being part of your life has just added noise.”
No, no, his presence was reassuring, not noise.
“So I feel it’s best for me to step back, and—”
“Are you breaking up with me?” she asked quickly.
He paused. He was, he was!
“Well, good. That’s fine,” she rushed in. She had to get in first. She lifted her chin. “I understand.” Never had she acted so much as in this single moment. “Thank you for your willingness to put up with my stupid scheme. I’m sorry if I have hurt you.”
“Ainsley, just to be clear, I’m not wanting to break up with you.”
Her heart rear-ended with those words. He didn’t want to? Oh, she was so confused.
“Then why are you saying this?” Stupid tears filled her eyes.
“Because you’re super stressed. You need time out. You need time to find out just who you are and what it is that you really want without me being part of that.”
“But what if I want you to be part of that?”
He glanced at her quickly. “Do you want me?”
Risk her heart on a man? On someone who’d just admitted that he’d lied? Could he be trusted? Her heart screamed yes ; her past roared no .
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
His eyes shuttered. “Then that’s your answer.”
He stood as her heart cried no, no, no .
“Just for the record, I think you’re amazing, and that God has amazing things in store for you. But you’ve got to start trusting Him more than yourself, or your past experiences, and you’ve probably got to trust Him more than your agent, too.”
Breath jerked in and out.
Zac, please stay , she longed to cry. Her words stayed locked in her throat.
He walked away and part of her heart died. And the desserts melted, their promise of sweetness dripping onto the table, then onto the floor.