Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A week later, my phone rang, Ida’s name flashing across it. I only had her number because I’d begged her to give it to me so I could send her a link to a fanfic (that she never responded to). She made me swear to only call her for emergencies.
My hand lingered over my phone, nerves spreading throughout me. And before I could think better of it, I hit the green button and answered.
“Hello?”
“Rosie? Is that you?”
I relaxed against the headboard of my bed. “Yeah. Hi, professor.”
She paused, most likely unnerved that I’d called her professor . The first and only time I’d done that before was when we first met, and she’d immediately corrected me.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m calling you,” she said softly. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how we left things and I feel horrible. I wanted to apologize again and try to convince you to come back to NYU.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I looked down, playing with a fraying string from my blanket. My throat was thick with the threat of tears. It hadn’t been an easy decision to leave. I missed New York every day, but I couldn’t go back and walk streets that would only remind me of him.
“I just finished your book. What you and Aiden have is such a rare talent, and I really hope you’ll reconsider. You’re an amazing writer, Rosie. Those last few chapters were amazing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, Aiden wrote the last few chapters so talk to him about it. I haven’t even read them.”
“What?” Her voice sharpened. “You didn’t read them?”
“I know that could get me in trouble, but I dropped out. So if you have to take it out on someone’s grade, make it Aiden’s.”
“No, Rosie, I think you really need to read them,” she said, her voice strained.
“No.”
“ Rosie, ” she said urgently. “I don’t want to tell you what’s in them, but—”
“Then don’t,” I cut her off. “I chose not to read them. I have no interest in reading them, and I don’t ever plan to. I appreciate you calling and apologizing but it’s no use.” I sighed, tears forming again in the back of my throat. “Thank you for everything, but I need to go.”
I hung up without another word and sunk into my bed, tears streaming down my face. Part of me was curious about how Aiden had tied it all up. But I wasn’t really in the mood to read how Hunter got promoted to CEO and Max was hit by a bus. I turned over in my bed, soaking my pillow with tears.
Later that night, my mom called for me from downstairs.
“Rosie. ?Tienes un visitante!”
I rolled my eyes. My old high school principal had been bugging me to start subbing at the high school.
“?Quién?” I called back.
“Ven abajo y mira.”
“If it’s Mr. Terra tell him I’m not teaching bratty fourteen-year-olds.”
“It’s not Mr. Terra.”
I paused, frowning. But soon curiosity had me padding down the stairs, the wood creaking beneath me.
“Mom, if this was a trick just to get me to talk to Mr. Terra, then I’m moving out. And I mean it this time. I’ll get a job at Dollywood and never look—”
“Hi.”
Aiden Huntington was standing in the doorway of my front door, his head skimming the top of the doorframe. He was holding a bouquet of roses wrapped in white paper. He was wearing a suit of all things—and he was here .
His suit jacket was crumpled, like he had been wearing it for hours. It looked like he hadn’t slept or combed his hair in days. Whenever his hair was like that—sticking up in every direction, the perfect combination of bedhead and gorgeous—it meant he had been running his hands through it, probably grasping at the ends.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked harshly. I was still on the bottom step. I shifted my weight, ashamed of myself for feeling self-conscious in running shorts and a ratty t-shirt from high school. I shouldn’t care what I looked like in front of him anymore, but part of me wanted to appear as if the breakup hadn’t destroyed me.
He wasn’t affected by my tone—his face was open and hopeful, his eyes soft and pleading. “I hoped we could talk,” he said gently.
“So, talk.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to keep as much distance between me and Aiden as possible. I couldn’t even stand to look at him, my chest hurt so bad.
“Could we talk outside?” He was eyeing the kitchen behind me. My parents and Maria and Peter were having dinner together, their boisterous laughs flooding through the house.
“Fine.”
I walked past him out onto my front porch, my breath catching as my shoulder brushed his chest. He followed slowly behind me and took a seat on the porch steps next to me. There wasn’t enough distance between us, and I had to resist the urge to scoot to the opposite end of the steps. His long legs were folded, his knees pressing against his chest as we sat.
“These are for you. I got them from the shop downtown.” He pushed the bouquet of roses toward me, and I took them tentatively. I laid them down next to me, resisting the urge to sniff them.
“How’d you know where I lived?”
“I begged Alexa.”
“Traitor,” I muttered.
“I came here to explain.”
I scoffed. “Of course.”
“Rosie—”
“No, no, go ahead. Clear your conscience. I’ll sit here and listen, then you can head on home.”
I was provoking him. I wanted some sort of reaction because I’d truly rather fight with him at this point. It was so much better to be at war with him than to sit here and hope that maybe he had changed his mind.
“I plan on apologizing, too, but—”
“But only after you feel better about yourself.”
“Would you let me talk?” he snapped.
“Why should I?” I snapped back. “You’ve had a month to talk. I don’t know why it’s taking you so long to just spit it out.”
“It’s a two-way street, you know. You could’ve talked to me if you wanted to.” He was getting angry now.
“The difference is I don’t have anything to say to you.” I stood from the steps onto the pavement, suddenly needing to be away from him again. Any piece of myself I had begun to put together these past few weeks was falling away fast, and I couldn’t protect myself from him if he was sitting right next to me.
“I’m not doing this, Aiden. I’m not indulging you so you can go back to New York and feel good about yourself while I’m here in Tennessee, trying to figure it all out. I don’t care anymore.”
“That’s not true.” He stood, too. I had to look up at him to meet his eye and that just pissed me off further. I moved past him to the top step, so we were the same height. He rolled his eyes but stayed put.
“You don’t have to lie anymore, Aiden. It’s over. You don’t have to pretend you want to be with me.”
He looked like he’d been punched. “Rosie, what are you talking about? I’ve wanted to be with you this whole time! I never lied about that.”
“Oh please!” I said, throwing my hands up. “You hated me that first semester. You berated me constantly in class—”
“I didn’t know how else to get you to notice me. I told you this, Rosie. I thought I was protecting myself—and you.”
“What a fucking cop-out,” I spat.
“It’s not.” He pushed. “I liked you the moment I saw you, Rosie. I wasn’t lying at all.”
I’d done this before. I’d convinced myself that a relationship was something it wasn’t for nearly a decade. I let Simon walk all over me, because I thought it was better to love than to be loved. But I wanted more, I deserved more.
“All you did was lie. You lied when you said you liked me. You lied about the fellowship. You lied—”
“I didn’t , Rosie.” He stepped toward me and reached for my hands. I snatched them away, but that didn’t stop him. “Rosie, I’m an idiot. I don’t do romance. I don’t know how —but I’m trying right now to be one of your heroes.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Rosie,” he said his voice low and pleading. “I’m new at this.”
“I’ve read plenty of romantic heroes, Aiden. I’ve seen all different types of grand gestures, and I can say with certainty those heroes didn’t go in yelling.”
“You’re the one who started yelling,” he muttered.
“Whatever!” I threw my hands up. “You broke my heart, Aiden. Sorry if I’m not so keen on accepting your red roses.” I tried to keep the tears in. His eyes locked with mine, studying me. The only sounds, besides the birds chirping and cicadas singing around us, were the sounds of my beating heart and his ragged breath.
“I came here because you didn’t read the last chapters.” He grew serious at this, his voice low and intent. He held out the chapters between us, but I ignored the papers.
“Yes, I did,” I lied.
“No, you didn’t. Ida told me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course she did.”
He pulled his phone out, scrolling through it before holding up the screen to me. I squinted, reading an email from Ida:
I thought you should know Rosie hasn’t read the last chapters. I hope you both can forgive me for mentoring you one last time.
“She emailed me this morning. I went down to her office, and she explained everything. I didn’t know you hadn’t read the last chapters. I didn’t know you went back to Tennessee.”
“None of this even matters.” I turned around and started toward my door, but he was at my tail.
“I went to your apartment every day. I hit your buzzer a million times until Alexa would send me away, and that stupid fucking brick wasn’t there when I needed it the most. I went to Think Coffee every morning. I ate nearly every meal at the Hideout, hoping to see you there. I didn’t just lie down and die, Rosie, I just didn’t know .”
“Stop!” I said, tears finally brimming over. “Don’t tell me this! I don’t want to know any of this. How do I know you’re not lying again?”
“Rosie, if I knew you weren’t in New York, I would’ve gotten the first flight out here. I did that. The minute Ida told me everything, I went straight to LaGuardia.” He paused. “I didn’t write our breakup.”
“Sure,” I scoffed. We’d spent so much time writing ourselves into our book, but I’d never really known how similar we truly were to Max and Hunter. Competing for the same fellowship like they would for clients. We had written our fate, and I wasn’t na ? ve enough to think Aiden could let it end on a happy note.
“I didn’t,” he said emphatically. “I asked you after class if you had read it, and you said you did. I thought you were rejecting me, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have let you walk away that second time.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make his words feel like nothing to me. I felt myself believing him, but I couldn’t do this again. I wouldn’t let myself fall in love with the faux version of himself he was presenting.
“Rosie, I’m begging you to read them.”
“Don’t you see it doesn’t matter?” I snapped. “I don’t want to, Aiden. I don’t want to forgive you. I don’t want to get hurt again. I won’t do it.”
“So, I’ve got no chance?” He asked, raising a brow.
I swallowed. “None.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he said gently.
“Why? Because you know me so well?”
“Yeah, I do. You’re the most stubborn person I know, and if you didn’t want to hear me out, you wouldn’t be standing here in your front porch light, looking at me like that.”
“Like what? Like I want to gouge your eyes out?”
He smiled genuinely for the first time since we’d come out here. “There’s my Rosie.”
I turned away because I knew if I kept looking at his smile, I’d fold. And I wanted to. I wanted to throw my arms around him and leave it all in the past. But I couldn’t take another heartbreak.
“I’m not yours anymore.”
“Fine. If you’re not mine, then know that I’m yours. The minute I saw you, you had me hooked, and I never wanted you to let go. The entire time we were together all I could think was you were better than any dream, any piece of fiction I could ever write.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a stack of papers. “Just read them. Whenever you want to. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then next week. If not next week, then know I’ll be waiting for you in New York to come home to me.”
I glanced at the papers between us, convincing myself I didn’t care. That I wouldn’t ever want to know the words he’d written to get me back. But the romantic in me couldn’t resist. Hesitantly, I took them from his grasp and relief flooded his entire demeanor.
“I’ll wait for you, Rosie, I swear it. I’m in it for the long haul. I want all your tomorrows. Every single one you’re willing to give me,” he said pleadingly. Almost like a promise.
I took a shaky breath, holding on tightly to the papers. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You can’t wait here while I read them. I want to be alone.”
“Of course,” he said immediately. “I’ll wait at the coffee shop you told me about. The one where the kid you were tutoring spilled coffee on you? The one where your best friend had six coffees your sophomore—”
“Honeybee. Yes. I know the place, Aiden.”
“Just trying to prove I listened to you.” The corners of his mouth lifted. He reached for me this time, his hands grabbing my arms, and this time I let him. “I’ll be there. I’ll be there all night.”
I nodded once and watched as he made his way to the rental car. The blue sky was already turning pink and orange.
“What if I don’t read until the middle of the night?” I called after him.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Then I’ll sleep in the back of my rental car.”
I smiled ruefully then turned away from me so he couldn’t see me. “Okay,” I said, voice thick. “Okay.”
I watched as he pulled out of my driveway, down the street, and into the sunset.
Part of me wanted to wait to read the chapters. To make him suffer like I was and to call him on his bluff. But I couldn’t resist.
I unfolded the pages and turned to the first page.
I lived a life waiting for the other shoe to drop. When life became too good, there were consequences. When my mom got successful, she got sick. When I finally felt settled into college, she died.
I walked on eggshells around Max, petrified that I would be the one to cause us to break. That something would inevitably mess up everything between us.
We had submitted our final presentation. The project drew us closer, but I was waiting for it to drive it us apart. Max was hoping this presentation would serve her well in her application for a promotion. She didn’t know that I was vying for that promotion, too. I wanted the promotion for different reasons than Maxine. I wanted a tangible way to prove to myself that if my mother were still here, she’d be proud of me. That she, and even my father, could see that I was living up to her legacy while making my own.
But after discovering Maxine’s motives for the promotion, the way it would change everything for her, I tried to back out. I spoke with our supervisor, but if I backed out now I jeopardized my reputation, and I couldn’t go through with that. I walked with that regret with every time Max spoke about the promotion, every time she hoped for it. We were supposed to find out soon, and I was dreading it.
We were meeting for dinner and the promotion was the last thing on my mind. I always felt a buzz of anticipation when I knew I’d be near her soon.
I spotted her walking toward me from across the street. Her eyes were hard, her mouth turned down in a frown. Something must be wrong because my Max smiled.
When she approached me, I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping her into a hug. My parents had never been affectionate growing up, even my mom. She’d lay a hand on my forehead if I was sick or hug me when I hurt, but that was about it. With Max, I found myself in a constant state of wanting my hands on her. In the middle of the night, if we drifted apart, I’d reach for her until we were pressed close together. It was impulsive, instinctual.
“I missed you today,” I said, kissing the top of her hair. She was stiff in my arms. I pulled back, search in her distant eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Fine” was all she said.
“Okay. Dinner here still sound good?”
She could barely meet my eyes. I had always been good at reading Max. From across conference tables, I could see her eyes light up when she thought something was particularly funny. In our tiny office, I could hear in her voice when a client made her mad, but she refused to be impolite. But I couldn’t read her now.
“This is good.”
Whenever we would get in a fight, I could sense it in my chest. Like the universe would unbalance and my body was preparing for me to quickly construct walls. I could feel the animosity between us and slowly, my defenses built.
I frowned, refusing to let it go. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said sharply. I peered down at her, trying to read her face. Trying to detect any sign of anger or hurt, but it was impassive. “Hunter, it’s nothing.”
“I know when you’re upset, Max. I know you.”
“Maybe you don’t,” she snapped. “And maybe I don’t know you.”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked, even though I knew. I didn’t have to check my phone to confirm that everything I was dreading was right here, right now.
“Why didn’t you tell me you applied for the promotion?”
Before my parents got divorced, my father spent most of his time at home yelling at us. He’d sling words at my mom and me like they were weapons. He yelled until his voice was raw and our tears were all shed. The older I got, the more I realized how much he’d fed off that fear in our eyes. I’d learned to keep my face still, unreadable, until I knew how to respond. It was my fight or flight response when I feared losing. And I was desperately scared of losing Max.
It was the way she said it that hurt the most. I’d not only broken her trust, but I’d hurt her. I knew I should just apologize, but all I knew how to do was defend until I was blue in the face. I was still learning how to love, slowly taking notes from Max as she did it so fiercely, so carefully. I was new at all of this and fucking it up.
“I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant,” I said slowly.
“I told you countless times how much I wanted that position. How it could change everything for me. I must’ve brought it up every single day, and you didn’t think to even tell me?”
Her hurt morphed into anger in front of my eyes, her voice sharp like I had never heard before. Like she hadn’t had the time to consider the true impact of them before they fell from her mouth. My first thought was that maybe she’d spent too much time with me.
“Why are you making such a big deal of this?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Because it is a big deal,” she insisted.
“You can’t be upset that I beat you, Max.” My anger was boiling over and while trying to salvage what we had, I knew I was close to destroying it.
“I’m not upset you beat me, Hunter,” she said. I could see the anger and frustration in her eyes and voice. “You should know me better than that. If I had known you were applying, I would’ve cheered you on. Instead you kept a secret like this from me for months. I thought I could trust you.”
“I never lied, Max.” I was clawing at scraps. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to sit with her in the corner of a crowded restaurant and watch her eyes spark up every time she spoke. I wanted to have my hand wrapped around her knee under the table and to roll my eyes when she stole the food off my plate. I didn’t want to stand at the edge of a block and lose all I had. “You’re just mad that I’m going to beat you.”
She jerked back, as if I had hit her. “I’m not worried about that. I don’t care. I thought we had gone to a place where we could be honest with each other, but you’re hiding from me.”
“It’s not my fault you feel so inferior, Maxine. What, you want me to hand it to you? Give you the easy way out? You’re already doing that by living in your own daydreams.”
The words rose in my throat before I could shove them down. Acid burned the back of my throat at the hurt written across her face as the other shoe finally dropped. The way she was looking at me was destined to haunt for me a lifetime.
She didn’t say anything, just turned around on her heel and walked away.
A foolish man would’ve let her walk away. He would’ve been too scornful and proud to ever try again. He would’ve let weeks pass by without begging for forgiveness or hearing a word from her.
I hadn’t thought love was ever in the cards for me. I watched the people I loved, and the people who were supposed to love me, walk away without a second thought. I settled into a life without love, never looking back, because if I were to fall, I knew it’d be slow and rare. I gave up the worst parts of myself to my words on paper so no one thought I was hiding. So everyone knew precisely what they were getting into with me. And maybe my characters didn’t get their Happily Ever Afters, but they’d survive. They’d walk out limping, but walk out, nevertheless. I couldn’t help but imagine how it could’ve been had maybe I tried a little harder. I didn’t know how to love, but for Maxine, I wanted to learn.
“Maxine, wait.” I jogged down the block after her, pushing past the people. “Max, I’m sorry.”
“It was all a lie.” Tears were pooling in her eyes.
“None of it was.”
“It all was.” She hiccupped between her words. “I really hate you sometimes, Hunter, I really do.”
“Well, I hate you, too,” I said, softly. “I hate the way you laugh at every joke in a TV show, even if it isn’t funny, because I know you just get caught up in the moment. And I hate how you get caught up in the moment, too, because it feels like you go somewhere without me, and I wish I was your shadow so I could never be apart from you.”
She shook her head. “Hunter, it’s not that easy. I—”
“But I love you too,” I said softly. “I haven’t told you enough just how much I love you. I love the way you look at me and make me feel like you’re shining a spotlight on just me. I love the way you smile at me first thing in the morning, even though you’re not a morning person. And I love the way you always have to win every fight we have—and you can win, Maxine. You can win this one. Because I miss you more than I’ve ever dreamed of missing another person. And I’m sorry. I know I’m not easy to love, either. I’m too angry and jaded, but I want to be someone you can see yourself loving. The kind of guy that you instinctually look for. You can win every fight we ever have for the rest of time, just don’t give up on me.”
I tentatively grabbed her hands. She gripped them back tightly, her eyes shining with tears.
“You’re lucky you’re wearing your peacoat.”
I choked on a laugh, pulling her into my arms. Moments like these, when we were bundled up in each other and I had no clue where she started and I ended, made me believe in Happily Ever Afters.
Rosie, I’m sorry. I love you. You once told me that when you fell in love, you didn’t want to have to second-guess what you felt. I’ve never second-guessed what I feel for you. I know you prefer what’s in your books, and I pretend I don’t want to be like them, but I do. I want to be the person you picture when you’re reading and dreaming because you’re who I picture every single time. I love you. In light and dark, in romance and litfic. In this lifetime and the next.