Chapter 18
eighteen
BONNIE
I was bowling the game of my life.
After a round of high fives following my strike during the eighth frame, I’d taken my seat with a grin still firmly fixed on my face.
Mac was up to bowl and away from our table when Candace asked, “So, Bonnie, how are things going with Jack?”
My smile wilted a little. Not for any real reason. Most of my concerns were imaginary. Or, maybe, unfounded was more accurate.
“Things are good,” I heard myself saying. “We’re casual, you know. Just seeing where things go. Having fun.”
I could tell by the look on Joan’s face that I hadn’t been as smooth and composed as I’d hoped.
“Casual, right. And you’re good with that?” Candace said. No judgment in her tone, just genuine curiosity.
“Good with what?” Mac asked as she slid into the seat next to me and snagged one of my fries.
I wasn’t . . . nervous about answering. But I was reluctant. I could feel the words stalling out in my mouth.
For the last three months, Jack had been mine and mine alone. My friends and family had given me space and hadn’t pushed after finding out I was dating the town loner and hot bartender from Magnolia. But I could tell they were curious.
Like right now. Candace’s eyes were alight and her expression eager. I knew she wanted me to be happy. So did Joan and my sister, too. So I wasn’t sure why this was so hard.
Maybe I was more worried about disappointing them if things started to fall apart.
For months, I’d been kind of a mess. They’d been gentle with me—still were, if I was being honest. And I didn’t want them to get their hopes up that Jack and I had some happily ever after looming on the horizon when that might not be where we were headed.
I still believed in happy endings and healthy relationships. My marriage to Danny hadn’t broken that in me. But, truthfully, I didn’t know what Jack wanted. Pressuring him to decide didn’t feel like the best way to find out.
“Good with Jack,” I replied, then grabbed a sip of soda. “Candace was asking how things were going. We’re good. Having lots of fun.”
Mac eyed me for a moment and then pilfered another fry. “Fun? Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Ugh, MacKenzie.” I whacked her on the shoulder.
But she shoved another fry in her mouth, unbothered. Grinning she said, “I’m just saying. A little fun never hurt anybody.”
“And as long as you’re on the same page,” Candace added, “about expectations and whatnot, then you should enjoy yourself, Bon. Be casual. Have fun. Whatever. Ride that motorcycle—”
“Motorcycle”—Mac winked obnoxiously—“right. Ride that motorcycle to your heart’s content.”
Joan and Candace laughed at my ridiculous sister.
“Anything to add?” I asked Joan. Since everyone else was taking a turn.
Joan’s dark brows rose in surprise. “No. Not at all. I’m the last person anyone should come to for relationship advice. And you don’t need it anyway, Bonnie. You have good instincts. Always have. You just have to trust them.”
I blinked, not expecting that sort of response from quiet, no-nonsense Joan Judd. It made the compliment that much sweeter coming from her.
“Thanks, Joanie,” I managed.
She was right. There were little voices inside all of us.
Ones that inserted themselves when the need arose.
A nudge here. A prod there. But oftentimes, it was easier to ignore them.
To stick with the known, if not comfortable.
To plug along on the easy path rather than take the hard road and listen to those instincts.
I’d known that there had been problems in my marriage. I hadn’t wanted to admit—to myself or anyone else—that things had changed with Danny. That maybe we’d grown apart long before he’d cheated. I’d felt undervalued in my marriage, ignored. More like a maid than a partner.
And now, my instincts were telling me something was off with Jack.
Things had been a little weird lately. After Jack had made lasagna for me last week, I’d noticed him pulling away a bit.
No, that wasn’t right. Rationing felt like a better way to describe it.
Like maybe if he could keep everything between us nice and even, then it wouldn’t get messy, or he’d have a better chance of staying in control.
My natural inclination was to assume I’d done something wrong.
It was natural to place blame on myself because that was what I was used to doing, but I couldn’t think of anything I’d done to inadvertently spook him.
We spent a lot of time together. We did relationship things.
Maybe initially, it had been all about fun and sex and exploring that part of myself.
But I’d always felt safe with Jack. I didn’t think I could have managed a one-night stand with a stranger.
The relationship part had come easy between us. I liked Jack and wanted to be with him, but I was trying to manage my expectations and not push for more than he was willing to give.
Obviously, I wanted to invite him to come with me to Candace’s wedding in a few weeks.
I’d love it if he—and Lia—spent Christmas with my family out on the farm.
But I worried about going too far, demanding too much.
I didn’t want to sail across the imaginary line of casualness that we’d been dancing pretty close to for a while now.
I lacked experience to draw from, but I didn’t think folks in casual relationships met each other’s families or spent the night in each other’s beds without sex being a determining factor. Were they supposed to share meals? Holidays? Where was the stop sign exactly?
They probably also didn’t indulge their lover’s weird pet bunny by holding it up to the window to show it the wild rabbits outside in the yard. When I’d caught Jack talking to Oreo in the living room the other day, I’d almost died from the cuteness. Nothing about that had felt casual to me.
But since he’d made me dinner last week, things had shifted.
Jack was taking bits and pieces of himself and holding them hostage.
Physically, I hadn’t seen him much this week.
He’d been working late at Magnolia. And this past weekend was the first one he hadn’t spent at my house in quite some time.
He’d mentioned he needed to be out at the farmhouse, helping Lia with some repairs.
I understood. Of course, I did. But I missed him.
Clearly, I’d gotten used to the rhythm we’d fallen into. The late nights together. His leather-and-whiskey scent on my sheets. How he always kissed my forehead when he saw me and really listened to me when I spoke.
We’d still been texting. So at least there was that.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” I told the table. “Y’all keep bowling. I’ll be right back.”
When I finished up and reemerged in the lobby, Danny was leaning against the counter waiting for me. It had been stupid of me to think I could ignore him for so long. But, frankly, I’d assumed he wouldn’t put in the effort of seeking me out.
I hadn’t even looked for him down at the other end of the bowling alley tonight. I hadn’t noticed him or his team. He’d just been one more body in an ugly bowling shirt.
“You’re a hard woman to get a hold of,” he remarked.
“I can’t think of a single thing we have to discuss, Danny.”
He straightened to his full height and gave me a look like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So this is really how it’s going to be from now on? You pretending I don’t exist? We live in the same tiny-ass town, Bonnie. You can’t just ignore me.”
As if to prove my point, I moved to walk around him, but he sidestepped directly into my path.
I gave an exasperated huff. “What do you need to say so badly? You had me all to yourself for seventeen years. You couldn’t find the time then?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “All to myself. Okay, sure. I shared you with the tourists and the townsfolk. With all the Clarks, the farm, the festivals, your students and their families. Maybe if you’d been more worried about keeping me happy instead of every other goddamn person in Kirby Falls, then we’d still be—” He broke off with a sigh. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
Scoffing, I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly cold and growing more numb by the second. “Could have fooled me.”
He lowered his voice and repeated, “I didn’t come here to fight. I know you’re dating that bartender and moving on. Sowing your wild oats or whatever.”
I felt my mouth drop open at his dismissive words. How dare he?
Numbness quickly gave way to anger, white-hot and all-consuming. I took a step closer, replacing the careful distance I’d tried to maintain with blazing intention.
“You know what, Danny? You’re right. I gave a lot of myself to this town and the people in it. But the only person who ever made me feel like it was a waste was you. I’m done apologizing for how I spend my time. What I do or don’t do is no longer any of your concern.”
I was close enough to see the embarrassed flush enter his pale cheeks. But I couldn’t find any regret or remorse within myself. I was glad I’d said what I’d said. Danny needed to hear it. And he’d probably been stunned to hear me stand up for myself for once.
His eyes searched mine for a moment before he swallowed and said evenly, “I know that. I do. I just thought if we could talk for a minute. Slow things down and—”
“Bonnie, you’re up,” Joan interrupted, appearing like an avenging angel at my side. The look she aimed at Danny had him backing up a step, but her voice was eerily calm. “Time to go.”
Danny’s clear blue eyes turned pleading, but I ignored him and walked with Joan through the dim, hazy interior, back to our lane.
“You okay?” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Yeah,” I replied. And I meant it. For the first time, when confronted with my ex-husband, I didn’t feel that familiar knot of dread twisting me up on the inside. There wasn’t the painful pulse of my heartbeat in my throat, and I had enough air in my lungs. “Thank you, Joan.”