Chapter 21
THE NEXT DAY, JULIE picks me up from The Rundown in the afternoon. For the entire drive over to Ridgewood Park, where I’m meeting Wilson to set up the picnic, she keeps hitting me with these weird glances. When I can’t take it anymore, I say, “What is it?”
At a red light, she reaches over and gently tugs on my hair. “Your hair is curly,” she says. “You never wear it curly.”
I shrug, playing it off. “I wanted to try a new look today,” I say casually. No other reason. Not because any specific person may have mentioned that they like my hair curly. Not because I’m currently driving over to meet said person.
Julie nods her approval, smiling like she knows there’s more to it. “Well, I love it. You look adorable. I’m glad you finally took my advice. So... What happened at the office today?”
Today was my first day back at The Rundown since the blowout with Jillian. I barely slept last night. Instead, my mind played out every possible situation that might happen: Camilla firing me on the spot, Jillian ignoring me for the full eight hours, the two of them mutually hating my guts. What I didn’t account for was Jillian not showing up for work and Camilla smiling at me the second she walked through the door.
I explain that all to Julie, who says, “Jill’s probably working from home—Well, Camilla’s home. I guess she’s staying with her. Is it totally inappropriate for you to ask Camilla how Jill is?”
“Are you crazy? I’m not doing that!”
“It was just a suggestion!”
Not to mention that I have no idea how much information Jillian even shared with Camilla. The last thing I need is to accidentally tell Camilla some secret detail that Jillian never shared to begin with. No, Julie was right on Sunday: no more getting caught in their relationship. Whether it ends in marriage or a fiery explosion is no longer my problem.
“The good news,” Julie continues, “is that my texts to her have started going through again. Which means she either had her phone off for two days or she finally unblocked my number.”
I grimace. “Jillian is trigger-happy with the block button.”
“Don’t I know it.” We’re both thinking of the same thing. When Jill went to parties in high school, she blocked our entire family from her social media accounts so we couldn’t see whatever craziness she was up to. It all started when I was thirteen and I showed Julie a photo Jillian had gotten tagged in on Instagram. I asked, “Why is Jill smoking?” and soon found out it wasn’t a cigarette at all—aka leading to a three-hour say-no-to-drugs conversation with Julie , not even my parents. That was when Jillian first fell in love with the block button.
“I’m guessing she hasn’t responded to any of your texts?” I ask.
“No. And every call goes right to voicemail.”
When I study my sister’s face, I can see how much this fight has affected her and how badly she’s trying to hold it together for my sake.
“Looks like I’ll have to reschedule our appointment this weekend for your bridesmaids dresses,” she says, gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles go white.
“Oh nooooo.”
Julie snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re devastated, Jackie.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes. Julie might have her thoughts stuck on her twin, but mine keep drifting over to Wilson, to that almost-kiss in the parking lot last night. The worst part is how it keeps replaying over and over in my head, like a broken record stuck on an infinite loop. And not in a bad way, either—in a good way. The memory makes something ignite in my chest, like the first spark from an ember before it bursts into flame. I still can’t really wrap my head around what happened, but what I know for certain is that Wilson and I crossed some sort of line. Maybe it was a line we unknowingly drew in the sand, but it was there. Now we stand firmly on the other side of it. And no matter how badly we might want to, I don’t think there’s a way to go back to the moment before we almost kissed.
The strangest part is, I don’t think I want to. Instead, I keep trying to jump ahead into the after . Playing out in my mind what could have happened if his phone didn’t ring. If he had kept inching closer to me. If there wasn’t all this baggage built up between us.
“Remind me again why you’re going to Ridgewood Park?” Julie puts down the sun visor. I do the same. Wilson may have been right about the heat wave breaking, but the sun is still blinding.
“To help Wilson. It’s a long story.”
I see the exact moment Julie makes the connection. “Wilson, your boss, who called you the other night?”
“No,” I lie. “Another Wilson.” I turn the air-conditioning on. Suddenly it’s a bit hot in here.
“And is this a date?”
“Julie, please . This is like, the furthest thing from a date.” I’m not offering any more of an explanation, as it would be way too embarrassing. Oh yeah, I’m going to help the guy I maybe have developed feelings for get back together with his ex-girlfriend. Couldn’t be happier!
She turns her signal on and makes a left at the light. We turn into the newly built residential area near the park. “I’m not going to pry,” she says. “I’ve learned my lesson. But—I am here if you want to talk. Even though I know you won’t.”
“You’re right. I won’t, but thank you.”
She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Jill and I might be twins, but you two are way more alike.”
It’s not that I’m surprised we are alike—I already knew that. I’m surprised that Julie thinks so, too. “How so?”
Julie drives into the parking lot. A few people are hanging around, pulling blankets and foldable chairs out of their cars. Behind them, the park sprawls out. It’s all flat land that ends in a soccer field before the ground hikes up into a hill that’s dangerously unclimbable. On the field, boys in neon orange and lime green jerseys run around, kicking a ball back and forth.
“You two are more reclusive,” Julie says, pulling the car over to the sidewalk to drop me off. “Before you get offended, I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just how both of you are. More private, more equipped to deal with things on your own. Maybe independent is a better word.”
I’ve always known that Jill and I share the same itching desire to get out of Ridgewood. And it’s pretty obvious we’re not the oversharing type, like the rest of our family. But I never once thought that was a good thing. I thought our quietness, the mutual tendency to revert back into ourselves, was almost destructive. Like, we were the two black sheep in the family. But when Julie says it like that, she somehow sheds some much-needed positivity on it.
“I never thought of it that way,” I say.
“Jillian used to be more open when she was a teenager. Do you remember?”
Do I remember? I built my entire blog off of Jillian’s and Julie’s tendency to overshare every detail of their life when they were younger.
“I do.” I’m lost in thought, taken back to midnights spent bundled up on the couch. The fireplace roaring. Our parents already in bed. The three of us huddled together, sharing snacks and secrets. Back when boundaries didn’t exist and we flowed in and out of each other’s lives like a river running downhill.
“I guess I can’t fault her for changing when she got older,” Julie says. It seems like she’s speaking more to herself than me. “I miss her so much, Jackie. I hope she shows up soon.”
“She will,” I promise. She has to.
“Do you need a ride home?” Julie asks, her voice heavy again.
“Uhm, maybe. I’ll let you know.”
When Julie hugs me goodbye, I hug her back even tighter. I know this is what she needs right now. Then I’m walking through the grass, sidestepping the dozens of other people set up on blankets. Looks like Wilson wasn’t the only one with this great idea.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. My heart in my throat, I look at the screen and will it to show Jillian’s name. Instead I see a text from Suzy. What are you doing tonight? We need to watch the new J-Law rom-com ASAP. Come by?
I text back, too busy tonight. long story. sorry. I tack on a sad-face emoji to lessen the blow. Then I spot Wilson farther down on the left, in a spot beneath a large tree. Strewn across the grass is a bouquet of flowers, the wicker picnic basket, the reusable bags I recognize from SmartMart, and paper bags that must be filled with whatever takeout Wilson chose. I watch him fan the blanket out—the yellow one with hearts on it that I chose—over the grass, but the wind keeps blowing it back against his body. I stifle a laugh. I know his patience is wearing thin.
To save the day as per usual, I run over and grab the corners of the blanket just as Wilson fans it out again. He doesn’t even startle at my presence. He actually looks relieved.
“You’re late,” he says gruffly. And here I was, wondering if things would be different between us. Clearly, we are back on track.
“And you’re losing a sad battle to the wind,” I say as I take a few steps back and stretch the blanket out. “This picnic looks depressing.”
“Please add blankets to the list of items I hate,” Wilson says.
“Blankets and baskets, got it. Maybe also a hatred for the letter B ?”
“It’s too early to rule anything out.”
Each holding a corner, we show the wind who’s boss and set the blanket flat over the grass. Wilson immediately places a bag on either side to hold it in place. It makes me wonder how long he’s been here struggling.
“For the record, you told me to be here at five thirty and it’s”—I check my phone—“five twenty-eight. That makes me early.”
He sits on the blanket as he begins to unpack the bags. “Guess there’s a first for everything.”
I take a seat beside him. “Is there a specific reason why you’re in a terrible mood? Or just your usual personality?”
For the smallest second, I see that familiar tug of a smile on his lips. “I’m embarrassed to say that blanket kicked my ass.”
“How long exactly were you struggling with it?”
Wilson takes his eyes off the bouquet to glare at me. “A very reasonable amount of time.”
“So more than ten minutes. Got it.”
He tosses the empty picnic basket at me, then hands me the paper bags filled with food. It smells so yummy, my stomach growls. “Less talking, more unpacking.”
“I’m great at multitasking. Watch me do both.” As Wilson unpacks the SmartMart bags and lights the citronella candle, I begin moving all the food into the basket. “What time is Kenzie coming?”
“Six,” he says. Am I imagining the voice shake?
“Yikes. We better get to work.” The paper bags are filled with food packaged in small cardboard boxes. I peek into a container filled with french fries, but I leave the rest closed. I don’t want to risk letting the heat out and everything getting cold.
“How was work today with Jillian?” Wilson asks out of nowhere. I don’t know why it still catches me off guard when he remembers these details, or why his remembering makes my heart flutter.
“She never showed up,” I say. Wilson hands me the cutlery and napkins—I add those to the top of the pile.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
I shrug it off. “It’s all right. I know we’ll get through it eventually, but our fights don’t usually last this long.”
Wilson relights the candle when the wind blows it out. “I’d offer you a Twix, but I may have forgot to bring one.”
It’s like a knife straight to the heart. “You really think I’m a big baby who can be bribed with chocolate, huh?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” he says.
“Good, because I most definitely am.”
I look up and find him smiling at me—it’s the same smile from that night in the parking lot. Then I realize how different Wilson looks today. Long gone is his usual work outfit. Now he wears worn-in jeans, Converse, and a black graphic tee. His hair is different, too.
“What?” he says. “Quit staring at me.”
“Did you get a haircut?”
Almost self-consciously, he runs a hand through his hair. “I did. You’re looking at me like it looks bad, Jackie. What’s the problem?”
The problem is that it’s the opposite of bad. Wilson’s hair had gotten so shaggy it started to flop over his ears. Nearly hit his eyebrows, too. Now it’s cropped a bit closer to his head, with just a few brown strands falling over onto his forehead. It shows off his face a lot more, too. Makes his eyes pop, like two little brown pools, pulling me right in.
“It doesn’t look bad at all,” I say, coming back to myself. “It looks nice.”
I see the moment the compliment travels through the space between us and hits Wilson. The faintest tinge of red blooms in his cheeks, and his eyes quickly drop to his shoes.
“Let’s talk about your hair,” he says. “It’s still curly.”
It is. This is actually the longest I’ve gone without straightening it. I make myself busy with the basket and say, “Someone may have changed my opinion on it.” It’s all I offer. There’s no chance I’m fully admitting that Wilson’s compliment sort of made me see a part of myself in a new light.
With the picnic basket stocked up, I shut it. “Okay,” I say, clapping my hands. God, Julie’s teacher theatrics are rubbing off on me. “What else do we have to do?”
“I think that’s everything.”
“Perfect.” I lie down on the blanket, and the world tips upside down. Between the branches of the trees, I see blue slivers of the sky. “You know you easily could have done that without me.”
The last thing I expect is for Wilson to join me. When he does, my breath catches. We lie side by side, staring up at the bright summer sky. “Jackie, if you weren’t here, I’d still be struggling with the blanket.”
I tilt my head to the right to look over at him. I don’t know if it was deliberate, but his face is only a head space away from mine. Again, my eyes trace over the soft freckles sprinkled across his skin.
A rush of feelings sweep over me like a tidal wave. I’m shaken with the urge to scoot closer to him, nestle my head into his shoulder, be enveloped in a new sort of comfort. If I close my eyes and block everything out, there’s another lifetime where Wilson put this picnic together for me. Where I’m the girl he’s waiting for. Where that basket is filled with my favorite foods. Where Wilson got a haircut and changed out of his work clothes to impress me. It’s only when I let myself sink far enough into that dream that I realize how badly I want it.
I’ve spent weeks breaking hearts. Tossing out advice to strangers on how to swiftly exit relationships that weren’t fulfilling. A lot of it made me feel like a fraud. How can I possibly advise someone on how to break a heart when I’ve never allowed myself to get close enough to someone to give them the power to break mine? Now here I am, on the cusp of heartbreak, knowing that the second Kenzie arrives at this picnic, my chance with Wilson is gone. There’s no coming back from that.
It may be a bit premature, but part of my heart already feels broken, like it’s mourning the what if .
But maybe this is what I deserve. I broke them up, and by doing so, I broke Wilson’s heart. It only makes sense that the consequence is him breaking mine.
Wilson’s words puncture the still air. “I’m nervous.”
I open my eyes and find his right there, waiting. His hair fans out on the blanket. I want to run my fingers through the strands. “She’s going to love it.”
I love it is what I want to say. That if this was all for me, it would be enough.
“That’s not what I mean,” Wilson says. When his gaze searches my face, I hold my breath.
“Then what are you worried about?” But I don’t need him to elaborate. I can see it plain on his face—the answer is right there, in the way his eyes drop down to my lips again; in the way he let himself lie beside me in the first place. Because any guy hung up on another girl wouldn’t be lying here with a different one.
And maybe I’m delusional. Maybe I’m reading so far between the lines that they’ve completely begun to blur together. Maybe I’m making up an entire language of my own. But for the first time, I doubt if Wilson even wants Kenzie to come today.
Maybe we’re both secretly hoping she doesn’t.
Then, a face moves in. It hovers above us, blocking out the sky and kicking the blooming moment right out the door.
“Hi,” Kenzie says, looking down at the two of us.
“Kenzie!” We yell her name at the same time, our voices heavy with guilt. In a split second we are standing up, fumbling with our limbs, brushing grass off ourselves. Wilson rights himself first, patting down his hair. “Kenzie, hey. You’re here. Wow— Hi.”
He is bashful and sweet, staring at her with a look of disbelief.
I realize that when he said he was nervous, this must have been the reason—he was nervous she wouldn’t come.
I was nervous that she would.
“You told me to come at six. It’s six,” she says. But her eyes are looking right at me. And her gaze very obviously says What is she doing here?
“It’s good to see you,” Wilson says.
“What’s Jackie doing here?”
Yep. There it is.
“I helped Wilson plan this for you.” My cheeks are on fire. I feel like the other woman. I want to scream Nothing happened! We never so much as kissed! “He did most of it himself,” I add quickly. “I just helped with, you know, setting everything up.”
Kenzie looks beautiful too, in a flowy white sundress and sparkly eye shadow that catches the sun. I don’t even dare to risk a glance at Wilson. In my entire life, I have never felt so awkward.
“The both of you planned a picnic for me?” she says.
“ No . Wilson planned it. I just helped.” The sentence shoots out of my mouth at the exact same second Wilson says, “I planned it. Jackie helped set it up.”
Well, I did a bit more than that, buddy.
Her eyes are narrowed. She sucks her teeth. “Right.”
Oh, she is not happy. I should’ve run out of here before Kenzie saw me. From her perspective, it must look like we were on the date and she’s the one intruding.
“And on that note, I should go,” I announce. Julie isn’t here to drive me home. but that doesn’t matter! I will gladly walk. Hell, I’ll crawl if I have to. Just get me out of here as fast as humanly possible.
“Thanks for the help,” Wilson says. I smile at him. It’s really all I can offer right now.
“See you,” Kenzie says.
I walk away, and I don’t look back.
At some point during the walk to the parking lot, tears begin to sting my eyes. I groan, forcing them not to fall, annoyed by my own emotions. This is exactly what I signed up for: help Wilson win back Kenzie. That’s what I did. Now I have to stop being a baby and move on alone.
It’s the alone part that’s getting to me.
I guess somewhere between grabbing lunch at the diner, hanging out in Wilson’s office, and late-night drives through town, alone morphed into together , and I had gotten too used to how that felt.
Now I’m back where I started.
I walk through the parking lot that opens up into the residential area. The streets are lined with new homes, and most of the roads are being repaved. I reach into my pocket to grab my phone to call Julie, when it begins to ring.
It’s Wilson.
I answer the call so quickly I nearly drop it. “What happened?”
“She left,” he says, his voice not giving any hint of emotion. “Can you come back?”
I don’t even respond, I just run to him. Down the sidewalk, weaving through the parked cars—until one car catches my eye. It’s Kenzie’s baby blue Mini Cooper, and she’s standing right beside it, staring at me. Something is telling me to go talk to her, so that’s exactly what I do.
She leans against the car, waiting.
I pose the same question. “What happened?”
Kenzie smiles sadly. “It’s not going to work out between us.”
The relief hits first, then the guilt. “Kenzie—”
“I never wanted to get back together with Wilson, Jackie. I only came here today to see how he was doing and say goodbye before I head home tomorrow.”
“You should have told him that,” I say, feeling incredibly defensive of him. “He planned all of this for you.”
“Did he?”
“What does that mean?”
Kenzie laughs. “Jackie, I hate the outdoors. I’m a city girl, it’s the reason I live in the city. I don’t know why Wilson had this idea that my dream date was a picnic. Don’t get me wrong, he knows everything about me. I just think he... got distracted by someone else.”
I know how that sentence ends. “Distracted by me, you mean.”
“I’m not upset. I honestly want him to be happy.”
I need her to know that nothing was intentional. That I wasn’t trying to like, steal him from her. “This started out as me helping him win you back, I promise. You should’ve seen how long he spent on that freaking gift basket for you, like it was the most important thing in the world.”
Kenzie smiles. Her eyes are far away, lost in some other memory. Maybe of Wilson, but a different version of him. “I don’t doubt it. He’s a bit of a perfectionist.”
“A bit?”
We laugh together. Ten pounds disappear off my shoulders.
She reaches out and taps my wrist. “It was great meeting you, Jackie. Whatever happens between you two, there’s no hard feelings.”
“Can I ask why you seemed so upset when you arrived today?”
She thinks on it for a moment. “I think part of me was hoping that when I got here and saw Wilson, something would click into place. That love would creep back into me and I’d want to get back together with him. I guess that would be the easiest thing to do. But when I saw you two lying there, it confirmed that we’re done. I’m sorry if it came off as being rude. It was only me processing the end of our relationship. And it always kind of sucks to see the person you once loved move on.”
Out of everything she said, the selfish part of me clings to the final bit. “You think he’s moved on?”
Kenzie nods back toward the park. “Go see for yourself.”
So I do. When I cross onto the grass, I spot Wilson without even having to search. My eyes are drawn to him like a magnet. He is sitting on the blanket all alone. “I was lying before. Now this is a truly depressing picnic,” I say when I’m standing right behind him.
He huffs out a laugh. “No kidding.”
I sit on the blanket, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I fidget until I need to break the silence. “Well, since Kenzie won’t be eating that food...” I hope it’ll make him laugh, but Wilson doesn’t protest. He just slides the basket to me.
“I spoke to her just now, by the way,” I say. “She told me what happened. Are you okay?”
I set out all the containers around me and begin opening them one by one.
“I think so. I really thought...”
Wilson keeps talking, but I’m no longer paying attention. My mind is completely stuck on the scene unfolding before me. When I open the first takeout box, it’s filled with breaded chicken nuggets. The next one is french fries. After that, two containers of ketchup. A bottle of iced tea. A bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. When I get to the dessert, my brain short-circuits. Wilson picked out a chocolate brownie, chocolate dipped doughnut, and chocolate lava cake.
He’s still talking, but I’m back sitting in that ripped leather booth at Angelo’s, replaying our conversation about what we’d choose for our final meal. I told him I was a simple girl who wanted chicken nuggets, fries, and ketchup. Dessert ? he had prodded. My answer was simple: Chocolate fudge brownie. No— Wait, chocolate dip doughnut. Or maybe a chocolate lava cake. You know what? All of the above .
The memory blurs with reality. All those foods I told Wilson I loved—the iced tea I had ordered, the Cool Ranch Doritos I mentioned were my favorite that day in his office when he was eating them, too. I knew he remembered the Twix bars, but I didn’t know he remembered everything.
“I thought I had planned Kenzie’s perfect date,” Wilson is saying. “I don’t know how I got it so wrong.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because another memory crashes into me with enough force to knock me off my feet.
The day I first met Kenzie, when Wilson and I sat together in Monte Jr.’s office, I asked him if he took Kenzie on nice dates. He had said yes. I remember my exact words : Planning a cute date in Ridgewood must be a pain in the ass. This town is impossible to romanticize. You know what I would love? A cute picnic in a park or something .
A cute picnic in a park or something.
Filled with all my favorite foods.
That’s exactly what Wilson did.
“Wilson.” I sound completely breathless. “You didn’t plan Kenzie’s perfect date.”
“What do you mean?”
“You planned mine,” I say.