Chapter 17
Another Confession
Fenella
Present day
My mouth falls open after hearing Alan’s whole story. His life, from the moment he met Amy until now, is like a curse. I never thought there could be someone more unlucky than me when it comes to Amy.
Imagine having your entire identity stolen by someone you despise. Because of one reckless moment of desire, Clark Thomson disappeared, replaced by Alan Schmidt. There are too many differences between the two of them. No wonder I never suspected they were the same person.
But what’s worse than all that is realizing Alan planned everything. He changed himself and built a business for me? I don’t wanna sound full of myself, but that’s borderline obsessive.
My heart’s pounding. I stare at Alan, searching his face. There are no more lies. He’s laid out everything—too much, even.
So now what? I shift awkwardly in my seat, not knowing what to say after all those revelations. My hands stay buried in my jacket pockets as I pull it tighter for warmth.
This isn’t part of the plan at all. I thought I’d yell at him, tell him to leave, shut him down because I’d find his excuse unacceptable. I imagined myself calling him psychotic, manipulative, cruel. But now, I just feel sorry for him.
My whole body’s tense. My back aches from sitting here for over an hour, listening. After everything he’s been through, my own struggles don’t even compare. He’s done more than I could ever imagine doing.
“I don’t wanna sound full of myself, but are you sure you did all this for…?” My voice trails off.
“For getting your attention,” Alan says quietly, his eyes locked on mine.
“But Alan, Laird and I—”
“Yes, I know.” He exhales, rubbing his temple. “He was the only one I didn’t see coming. I didn’t expect Laird to meet you again before I joined Gene. I didn’t expect him to confess his feelings either.”
My cheeks grow warm. My mind flicks to Laird. Did he ever go that far to win me over? Oh God, he did say he moved to New York after law school just to find me, leaving his dad behind in Boston.
Still, everything I’ve done, everything Laird’s done, can’t compare to what Alan’s done. Has he lost his mind? Is this even real?
“Why me? I’m not as great as you think,” I mumble, frowning.
“I don’t know, Fenella.” Alan’s voice softens.
“Maybe it’s because you look like my childhood anime crush.
Maybe it’s because you were the only girl who ever talked to me in class.
Or maybe it’s just because you’re the only person I could never let go of.
” His forehead creases, a shadow of sadness flickering in his eyes.
“You were the one thing I held on to during my darkest times. I endured Amy because I believed one day I could stand in front of you without shame. I changed because of you.”
Again, my face heats up. My heart races, and not even the icy wind can cool the warmth spreading through my chest. His words sound like worship—dangerous, consuming, almost holy. It’s madness. Obsession disguised as devotion.
“I think this is the time,” Alan says suddenly, pushing himself up from his seat. “Fenella, I know this isn’t ideal, but I promised myself.”
He limps toward me, one leg stiff, the other struggling to balance on the wet ground. Then he kneels, supporting himself with his good knee.
“Alan? What are you doing?” My voice cracks. Oh no.
“Fenella,” he says, his voice trembling but steady, “I promised myself that when I told you everything, the whole truth, that’s when I’d finally tell you what’s in my heart.”
He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a small red velvet box. My hands fly to my mouth. Oh, no. No, no, no.
Alan opens it, and inside is a diamond ring, the kind only a high-end brand jewelry designer could make. My stomach flips. That thing probably costs tens of thousands of dollars.
“Fenella,” he says softly, “will you marry me?”
My mouth hangs open with a sharp gasp. My eyes widen, blinking fast as I try to process what’s happening. Not in a million years did I imagine a man with a limp and a burned leg kneeling in front of me, proposing in the middle of an open park in winter.
“Alan, I—”
“Fenella.”
He says my name again. I clear my throat, probably because I’ve been standing here with my jaw dropped like an imbecile. This conversation just took the wildest turn.
“Alan, please. Don’t make me the bad one again. Wasn’t it enough that I turned you down on prom night?” I plant my hands on my hips, pacing back and forth, running my fingers through my hair to calm myself down.
If I were Amy, I’d probably throw myself into his arms right now. But I’m not Amy Schmidt. I’m just me. A simple, foolish girl who still believes real love stories can exist in this messed-up modern world.
“Fenella, I can wait. Just take this ring for now. I promise I won’t ask for it back.”
“You’re not serious, Alan.” My voice snaps sharper than I intend.
“I am serious, Fenella. Keep it. Don’t give it back. When you’re ready, you can come to me wearing it. But if you don’t ever want to, you can sell it. Donate it. Whatever you want.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I turn toward him, my face twisted in disbelief.
“Yes, Fenella. I’m out of my mind. I just want you to take the ring and keep it. That’s all.”
Alan stays kneeling on one knee, the box still open in his hand. Around us, people stop and watch like it’s some grand romantic moment straight out of a movie. But to me, it’s more like a horror scene I can’t wake up from.
“So what then? If I take this ring, you’ll wait for me forever? Until death?”
“Yes.” Alan nods, calm and steady.
“No. Stop this, Alan. Please. I can’t accept it. I love Laird.” I shake my head just as firmly as he nods.
Alan’s love might be bigger, louder, deeper—everything a poet would write about. But my heart’s already made its choice.
“I’m sorry, Alan,” I whisper, my chest tight. “I can’t accept it.”
I can’t carry the weight anymore. I came to Boston hoping to find a little peace, just some quiet from all the noise in my head. But of course, Alan has to chase me all the way here. Figures.
I don’t care about anything anymore. Right now, I just need silence. That’s why I go home and leave him behind.
When I get there, it hits me—I left my mom alone at the park with all those things. The trolley’s still there. She must’ve pushed it all the way back herself. She’s tough, but the thought still makes me feel guilty.
No. I can’t see Alan again. How could he hold on for this long? How could he do everything with me as his only goal?
I head upstairs to my room and drop onto the bed.
I rest the back of my hand over my eyes and stay still for what feels like forever, lost in thought.
My body curls up, eyes shut tight against the light that hurts to look at.
My breath comes fast. I whisper curses about my luck, quiet and bitter, until the room is getting too small for all this pain.
* * *
The biting cold wakes me up, making me sneeze a couple of times. I sit up and glance at the open window. The orange sun looks dimmer than it did yesterday. I get out of bed, walk to the end of the room, turn on the heater, and move to close the window.
Outside, Alan and my mom are walking along the sidewalk. He’s pushing her trolley, piled with stuff, helping her up the steps to the house. I keep watching him as he walks away.
Then he looks up, like he knows someone’s watching. Our eyes meet. He lifts his arms high and yells, “Fenella! I’ll wait for you!”
I freeze, then duck behind the wall. I wait for him to leave, but instead, he keeps yelling, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
“Fenella! I’ll wait for you until you come to me! You hear me?!”
I groan and cover my face with both hands. My body trembles as I sink to the floor, crouching, head resting on my knees. I don’t move an inch. I just sit there, praying he leaves soon.
It takes a while before I dare to peek out the window again. My head rises slowly above the sill. Alan’s gone. His silhouette disappears down the street. I let out a long breath and finally close the window.
“Fenella,” my mom calls, knocking on the door.
I gasp. “Yeah, Mom?”
She steps inside, looking tired. She sighs and sits on the edge of my bed. “You came home early.”
“Sorry, Mom. I left you alone at the park.” I bite my lower lip, awkwardly leaning against the window. My hands hover there like I’m trying to hide the whole embarrassing Alan situation. I just hope she didn’t hear him shouting, but his voice was too loud to ignore.
“It’s fine. I’m used to doing things alone.” Her voice is soft, calm.
I drop my head. Guilt twists in my chest. I hate that I can’t come home more often, that she’s still living here by herself. I’ve begged her to move to New York with me, but she won’t leave this house. She has a thousand reasons, all stubborn ones.
“How much did we make from the bazaar?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“Sixteen grand. Can you believe that?” She laughs.
“Was it all Alan’s money?” I ask quietly.
“Mostly, but not all. A couple bought my dinnerware set for thirty bucks before he came.” She exhales with a small smile. We fall silent for a moment before she asks, “Is Alan your boss?”
“I quit his agency,” I say.
“Because you didn’t wanna look like you were dating your boss?” she teases gently.
“Oh no, Mom, that’s not it. I’m not dating him.” I shake my head fast.
“Really? Then why’d he leave this ring box with me?” She pulls a red velvet box from her jacket and sets it on the bed. I just stare at it, too scared to touch it, like hot charcoal ready to burn my hand.
“You don’t like him?” she asks.
“I already have a boyfriend. Laird,” I say softly.
She goes quiet at his name. Her gaze lingers on me, then she sighs. “Some things never change.” She chuckles faintly. “So, where is he? He usually comes home the day before the Christmas Eve party.”
“They still do that every year?” I ask, glancing out the window at the Evans house across the street.
“His father loves showing off his success and his two sons. He invites half the neighborhood every Christmas Eve.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t Laird tell you when he’s coming back to Boston?”
I sigh and sit beside her. “There’s a big problem.”
I tell her everything. About Laird. About Alan. About the scandal. When I reach the part about the park this afternoon, my voice cracks, and tears start falling.
“Sorry, Mom. I can’t make you proud.”
“No, Fenella. You’ll always be my pride.” She shakes her head.
“But if you saw that ad—”
“I saw it. I think it’s funny. Creative, even. Don’t worry too much about it.”
“You saw it?” My eyes widen. “Oh my God, that’s embarrassing.” I cover my face with both hands.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“It’s all because of Alan,” I say, my voice breaking. “He trapped me. And after all that, he says he’s loved me this whole time. I can’t—I just can’t accept it.”
The words crumble into sobs. Tears streak down my cheeks as my mom pulls me into her arms. I bury my face against her shoulder.
“I don’t love him,” I whisper. “But the guilt is eating me alive, Mom. My heart’s such a mess right now.”
She strokes my hair and keeps patting my back, her warmth steady and patient. The scent of her shampoo swirls to my nose, reminding me how much I’ve missed her. And for a moment, I’m just a little girl again, lost and clueless about the world.
“You do you,” she murmurs. “Focus on your own happiness first.” Her voice is soft, and the room is finally quiet again.