10. Chapter Ten
It’s the day before the high school reunion, and the Blizzard machine whirs like an overeager toddler, flinging ice cream and candy bits into a chaotic swirl of all things sweet. We’re tucked away in our favorite booth at the local Dairy Queen, and Julie’s eyes are big as saucers, the same way they get when she’s on the cusp of juicy gossip.
She drives a spoon into her mountain of Oreo-packed vanilla ice cream with way more force than necessary. “Any news from your lawyers about Jace?”
I sigh, stirring the chocolate chunks of brownie and cookie dough around like they’re letters in ice cream alphabet soup, willing to give me the answers to all my problems. “I’m still waiting,” I admit. They’re digging through Metro’s and Jace’s finances, but it’s like waiting for grass to grow.”
“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all his crap. What kind of idiot goes out for a cheap hamburger when he has a perfectly cooked filet at home? You deserve so much better, Rose. I’m just saying.” Julie’s eyes soften as though she can sense how painful the affair still is for me. She gives me a sympathetic look. “How have you been keeping busy?”
“Work, mostly.” I focus on a particularly stubborn piece of brownie. “Scheduling my Dallas clients remotely and letting Sarah handle all the mixers. I even opened up my database to start taking a few new clients here locally.”
“Locals, huh?” Julie’s eyebrows do a little dance. “Sounds promising. I can think of at least a few women around town who could use their own personal dating guru—present company included.”
“Anything to keep my mind off the fact that my only attempt at marriage was a total bust,” I say with a shrug. I take another scoop of my blizzard anyway and try not to think about how Jace wants to snatch away a business I poured my heart and soul into. But even chocolate doesn’t soothe me.
Julie leans forward, her eyes twinkling with curiosity as she takes another bite of her Blizzard. “So, tell me about these local clients. Anyone I know?”
I fidget with my spoon, wondering how she’ll react when I tell her. “Actually, yes. I’ve been working with Henry.”
“Henry!?” Julie’s voice pitches up in surprise, and a glob of ice cream nearly spills out of her mouth. “As in… Henry Carter?”
“Yes, now would you be quiet,” I say in a hushed tone. I feel a twinge in my stomach at the mention of his name. “His daughter thought it was a good idea, and now he wants me to fix him up with a date for tomorrow.”
“And you helped him find one? A date… to the reunion?” Julie sets her spoon down, her gaze fixed on me like she’s trying to read between the lines of a juicy romance novel.
“Yeah. I mean, why wouldn’t I? He didn’t want to go alone. And since I’m not going because...” I trail off, picking at the laminated edge of the Taco Tuesday ad on display in our table tent.
“Because of Jace,” Julie says softly, understanding flooding her features. “That must be rough.”
“Let’s just call it complicated.” I force a smile that feels as stiff as the plastic booth we’re sitting in.
Julie tilts her head, studying me with sharp green eyes that never miss a beat. “You’ve got guts, Rose. I’ll give you that.”
I lean back in my seat and study her. “Why do you say that?”
“Um, only because you’ve been pining over him ever since we were in middle school.”
I feel my cheeks heat up, and I’m not sure whether to be angry or play dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I choke out.
“Come on, Rose. You two were stuck together like Velcro back then.” While her smile appears void of any threat, her words hit like a hammer. “I mean, everyone knew you liked him.”
“Everyone?!“ The word comes out as a squeak.
“Pretty much.” She laughs and shrugs like it’s no big deal—like she didn’t just rip off a thirty-year-old band-aid covering the years of humiliation and rejection I carried around like some worn-out doll. They were wounds that stayed fresh until the day I graduated and left Sugar Plum in the rearview once and for all. Julie reaches across the table and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “But hey, what do I know? After all, that was ages ago… right?”
“Right,” I echo. “Ancient history.”
I turn my attention back to my Blizzard, but Julie’s are fixed on me, and given my inability to hold a poker face, I crack under the pressure of her knowing gaze.
“Okay, fine,” I concede with a sigh. “Maybe I did have a crush. But why does any of that matter now? You said it yourself. That was ages ago. Besides, Henry has never seen me as anything more than a friend.“ Then again, I think… what guy has?
“Sure, Rose.” She pops a chunk of Oreo in her mouth and raises a brow. “You’re telling me you just—poof!—got over it?”
“Exactly, poof!” I say, emphasizing with a puff of breath. “Gone. Henry married Camille. He moved on, and so did I. Remember?”
Julie leans back, the booth creaking under her scrutiny. “Mmm-hmm. Married to a man who’s more myth than husband lately.” She twirls her spoon between her fingers. “And yet here you are, playing matchmaker for your old flame.”
“Because he’s a client, Jules. That’s it.” My words feel as flimsy as a roll of single-ply toilet paper.
“Uh-huh.” Julie’s tone takes an unexpected dip into playful territory. “Hey, do you remember that time in the first grade when Henry gave you his prized baseball card because you said you liked the shiny ones?”
My laugh bounces off the walls, and I drop my volume when a couple in the corner looks over at us. “That was just Henry being nice,” I scoff.
“Oh, really? And what about in third grade?” Julie ticks off on her fingers. “You were the only one in school who ever managed to kick the ball backwards, yet Henry Carter still picked you first—every… single... time.”
“Coincidence?” I counter weakly, and a smile threatens the corners of my mouth. She makes a good point with that one, but I always assumed it was because he was trying to protect me—kind of like an older brother—If thinking about kissing your older brother in the ’80s was a thing. Probably not.
“Or how about in the fifth grade, when he ‘accidentally’ dropped his love letter to Cindy Harper on your desk?” Julie’s smirk grows even wider. “You can’t tell me he wasn’t trying to make you jealous.”
“Jealous? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Henry would never do something like that.”
I think back on that day and how it forever changed how I looked at Henry and how I knew I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to look at me the way I thought he looked at Cindy Harper when he wrote her that letter. That was the day I knew I was in love with Henry Carter.
“He’s a guy, Rose. They’re all dumb, which is even more the reason for him to do something that outrageous. It got your attention, didn’t it?“ She leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Face it, Rose. The way that boy mooned over you—I’m surprised you never saw it.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, but for a short moment, I allow myself the luxury of wondering—what if Henry Carter did like me back?
Something flickers, and suddenly, I’m back on my family farm with Henry. We were in the seventh grade when my horse, Sunshine, died. She was a birthday present from my parents when I turned eight, and she was the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen. My dad knew a local breeder of Andalusian horses and was able to get a good deal. I had never seen an all-white horse before. Henry’s parents were even nice enough to let us board her in one of their stables.
When she got sick, Henry took it just as hard as I did—maybe even more so. He even slept on the floor next to her for an entire week until the vet had to put her down. He always said it was because he didn’t want her to be alone if she went in the night.
He was always good like that, and I knew one day he’d be that man for someone special—someone beautiful and kind, someone who deserved to be loved the way only Henry Carter could love. But I also knew he was a fairy tale that wasn’t meant for me.
And guys like Larry Price and Jace Thatcher never let me forget it, either.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say, pushing my half-eaten Blizzard away.
Before Julie has time to protest, my phone buzzes in my purse, slicing through my jumbled thoughts. It’s a text from Megan, all caps and panic.
Emergency at work. Can’t make it tonight with Henry… SO SORRY!
I try to hide the look of sheer panic.
“Everything okay?” Julie asks casually.
“Uh, yeah,” I lie, typing out a quick response to Megan. “Just a little scheduling hiccup. Nothing I can’t sort out.” I force a smile, but deep down, I’m scrambling to come up with a solution for this monumental problem.
“You mind if I step out for a minute? I have to make a quick call.”
Julie nods. “Take your time.”
I slip out of the booth, and my heart thumps a panicked rhythm as I push through the glass door and into the hundred-degree Texas heat.
“Hello?” Henry’s deep voice answers after the second ring, but it sounds like he’s already halfway to defeat.
“Hi, Henry, it’s Rose. I’ve got some bad news...”
“It wouldn’t be the same bad news I just got five minutes ago, would it?”
“Shoot. I guess you already talked to Megan?” I lean against the brick wall, squinting against the sun’s glare. “I’m sorry, Henry. Truly, I am.”
“Rose, you’ve got to help me out here. If I’m stuck hanging out with Larry all night, who knows what kind of trouble he’ll get us into? Last time we had a reunion, he got so drunk he went cow-tipping in his underwear.” His plea tugs at something deep within me. One part of me is willing to do anything to see my friend happy, and the other thinks driving to Lubbock in the middle of the night with bail money sounds worse than fishing on the banana boat.
“Let me think...” I say, biting my bottom lip as life in Sugar Plum carries on around me. I bet not one of these cars in the drive-through line is aware of the mini-drama unfolding outside in the Dairy Queen parking lot right now, but something tells me I’m about to regret what happens next anyway.
“Anything, Rose. I’ll owe you big time.” I can almost see his lopsided grin through the phone, the one that always made my stomach do backflips back in high school.
“Alright, give me a little bit of time. I’ll figure something out, Henry. Promise.”