39. Mess & All
Chapter 39
Mess it’s everything. He has to see his entire family move on, and then he pretends like it’s all okay. He sees what he left behind.”
“He doesn’t exactly seem like he wants to settle down,” I confess. “He’s always sleeping around.”
“We all cope in our own ways.”
“And why is that your responsibility?”
“Because he’s my best friend.” Her shoulders deflate. “I would do the same thing for you.”
I cross my arms. “Okay … but what did he say to you before the baby shower? Why were you crying?”
She straightens her posture. I can feel her pride bubbling up, and then I see it just as easily fizzle back down.
“He said he wasn’t sure he was good enough for me.” She chokes out a laugh to herself. “He doesn’t even know how I feel about him, let alone how to be good enough for me.”
“I thought you were?—”
“We slept together once,” she says quickly. “It was a mistake. We both acknowledge that. He said he doesn’t deserve my friendship —” She cuts herself short with a hand to her lips.
Her eyes are watery again, and I don’t like it. Izzy never cries, and this is the second time I’ve seen her cry in a little under three days. It’s wrong.
I make my way toward her at the same time she strides across the room and buries herself into my chest. I’m not sure we’ve ever hugged. I’m well over six feet, and she’s five foot even. It’s an odd combination.
“I wish I didn’t like him so much.” Her words are muffled against my chest, as if it’s a secret. It’s not.
I stroke her frizzy hair, tucking some of the loose blonde curls behind her ear. “I know.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I’ll try.”
I cup either side of her cheeks and tilt her face up to look at me. “Listen, I get it. I wish I were half as charming as him.”
She rolls her eyes.
“But he has a hard time acknowledging when he has a good thing, and I can’t stand it. I’ll try to listen more. I’ll try to understand. But know that I’ll take your side every time.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I pull her head into my chest again, and we stand there for a few moments, letting the ambient music drift over us and the soft waves from Crocodile Cove whistle through the windows.
Izzy finally pulls away, stepping back and rubbing the heel of her palm into her eyes. “Let’s never hug again.”
I chuckle. “Ditto.”
We exchange smiles.
“So, what’s going on with Bonnie?” she asks with a sniff. “I heard you broke up. Kinda.”
“Kinda?”
“The gossip seesaws between a simple you broke up with her or you looked like a sad little puppy when the good girl of Never Harbor yelled at you .”
I nod slowly. “Well … yeah, it’s the second one, I guess.”
“Knew it.”
I snort. “She didn’t let me break up with her.”
She barks out a wet laugh, still rubbing her nose. “No kidding?”
I snort and shake my head, running my palm through my hair with a sigh.
“No.”
Izzy sighs. “That girl worships you, and you don’t realize you’re just as special as she thinks you are.”
I glare. “Stop.”
“I’m serious. You’re worthy of her.”
“I’m … something. Maybe. Not yet at least.”
“She seems to think you already are.” When I don’t respond to that, she nudges me with her elbow. “You won’t end up like your parents. You know that, right? Not with a heart like yours.”
I inhale and exhale. “Maybe.”
“Definitely,” she corrects me. “Not with how much she’s obsessed with you either. And definitely not with how much you love her.”
I jerk my head up, meeting Izzy’s eyes. The corner of her mouth is already lifted in a half smile.
“Don’t think you’re so slick,” she says.
“I know I’m not.”
I want to confess how much I love Bonnie, but that doesn’t feel right. Bonnie’s the one who needs to hear those words first. Instead, I just nod in confirmation, and Izzy returns the gesture.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Now isn’t the time to answer a text, but after a couple more buzzes, I take it out, and Bonnie’s name flashes back. My heart ratchets into my throat.
I wanted to be the one to call her first. I didn’t want her to reach back out. She shouldn’t have to. It’s my job to crawl back to her, and I wanted to do it desperately with all my ducks in a row.
But I’ll never ignore a call from her.
I pull it to my ear. “Hey, Clever Girl.”
Izzy shoves one finger in her open mouth and makes a gagging sound at the nickname.
I flick her off, and she laughs.
I’ll shamelessly call Bonnie whatever I need to in front of others so that she knows nothing has changed. If I don’t get to say anything else before the end of this call, my woman needs to know her nickname remains the same.
But instead of Bonnie’s voice, I hear a very worried tone in response.
“Hey, bad news.”
“Lulu?”
“Bonnie needs you,” she says.
My blood rushes to my head so fast that I have to grab the edge of a nearby table.
“Where are you?” I snap.
“Our house,” Lulu answers.
If they’re at the cottage, then at least Bonnie isn’t injured. Lulu is smart enough to dial an emergency line anyway.
It doesn’t matter.
I don’t need to know what’s actually wrong.
I don’t think before saying, “I’m on my way.”
I hang up before Lulu can confirm and quickly pocket my phone.
“I gotta go, Iz.”
“Figured.” She snatches her limp purse off the bar and swings it over her head. “Let’s go get your girl.”
“You’re coming with me?”
“Didn’t you walk?”
“Oh. I?—”
“That’s what I thought.” She bumps past me, shaking her keys over her head. “Let’s go, Romeo.”
“I … thank you, Iz.”
She smiles. “You’re not as much of a loner as you think you are.”
With Izzy’s foot revving that Beetle as hard as its poor engine can take it, Izzy and I arrive at the cottage ten minutes later.
When we shut the car doors, I immediately rush through the garden.
I don’t need instructions on where she’ll be; I know my girl’s safe place.
When I whip open the shed door, the small room is already packed. It smells like burned-out candles, musty wood, and too many people.
Maggie, Wendy, and Lulu hover over the cushions in the corner, and between them all, with tears running down her pink cheeks, is Bonnie.
Maggie’s eyes widen as I stride in, bypassing their little group to get to her.
Wendy moves to the side when I place a palm on her shoulder to gently shift her out of my way. I don’t know which rumor she’s heard. Either she hates me since I broke up with Bonnie or she’s heard about my sad-puppy look and feels bad for me.
It doesn’t matter. I’m here for Bonnie regardless of what anyone else thinks.
“Hey.” I fall to my knees and cup the sides of her face.
She sniffles between my hands, still looking at the ground.
“Eyes on me, Shiv.”
Finally, her beautiful, glossy brown eyes meet mine. The rims are reddened, and her cheeks are blotched to a peachy pink.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “What happened?”
At that question, Bonnie flings herself into my chest. The shed might be musty with people, but Bonnie still smells like her coconut shampoo.
I take a seat beside her on the cushions, pulling her closer. She cries into my shirt, grabbing a fistful and holding tight. I massage the back of her neck as she crawls closer until her thigh is almost in my lap.
I look out at the women staring at us, but I don’t let go of Bonnie. Hell, she could try to make out with me right here, and I still wouldn’t let go. Their discomfort is not my problem.
From the open door, Izzy says, “Let’s go outside. Give them some room.”
“Oh, sure, yeah,” Wendy says distantly.
“I’m not leaving,” Maggie says defiantly.
I don’t blame her. It’s her daughter.
Wendy touches her arm and says, “C’mon, Mama. Rafe’s got her for now.”
For now? Forever.
Wendy coaxes Bonnie’s mom some more to get her outside, but eventually, they leave. I hear the low murmurs of their voices beyond the door. Maybe they’re talking about us. Maybe about Bonnie. It’s not my business. My only business is what’s happening right here with her.
I tip Bonnie’s chin up so her eyes meet mine again. It’s been a little over a day, and I’ve already missed those brown eyes.
“Hey. What happened?”
“I …” She sniffs. “I didn’t get it, Rafe. I didn’t win the competition.”
The words hit like a dart, right on the bull’s-eye.
She didn’t win.
Her eyes drift to the wall of art, zoning out on them, as if scrutinizing her own talent. My brow furrows, and I grab her jaw again, making sure she can’t look away this time.
“Hey, there will be other competitions. Other jobs. You can’t let this one get you down.”
“I feel …” Her bottom lip wobbles. “Like I’m a failure.”
“Don’t you dare believe that.”
“What do I do now?”
“You keep going.”
“But I’m not good .”
“Excuse me?” I snap. “I hired you because of your talent. Because I couldn’t believe someone else hadn’t done it first.”
“You didn’t see my portfolio until after you hired me.”
“I knew what you were capable of. I didn’t know you’d changed to doing something else, but I knew your art from before.”
“From when?”
“From all the times you did projects for your brothers. From the art shows in town. From the different competitions you’d won before and how everyone and their mother wouldn’t stop talking about Bonnie Davies and her beautiful art.”
“Those were in high school. I’m not that girl anymore.”
“And thank God.” I grip her chin so that she looks directly at me. “You’re better .”
Bonnie blinks at me. “I … I don’t know.”
“Who you are—the artist that you want to be—is only getting more talented by the day. Internships didn’t work out because you weren’t being you. But anyone who’s met you knows your skill. And if they don’t, then they just don’t know you well enough yet.”
Bonnie blinks at me, another tear streaming down her cheek. I swipe it away with the pad of my thumb. Her eyes snag on my middle finger’s ring cooling against her cheek.
“This didn’t work out,” I say. “That’s all right. Other things will.”
“Are you disappointed?” she asks.
“Hell no. I’m so fucking proud of you, Bonnie. So proud.”
“Why?”
“Because you took a leap of faith into something that made you happy. You took a risk, not knowing whether it’d pay off. You made a bet on yourself. And how could I possibly be disappointed in that? You’re gonna be all right, okay? You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”
She leans into my chest, letting out another exasperated sigh. It seems like most of the tears have faded away. I hold her close, kissing the top of her head.
“How did you know to come here?” she murmurs.
“Lulu called.”
She sniffles through a small laugh. “She knew I needed you.”
I run my palm over her shoulder and kiss into her hair again.
I need you too .
The shed door whips open. Izzy opens her mouth, closes it, then groans.
“Well, hate to break this up, but … we’ve got a woman in labor.”
Bonnie jerks forward in my arms. “What?!”
We both swivel our heads to look at Wendy, just beyond the door, who seems perfectly fine. A little fidgety as she talks to Bonnie’s mom, but definitely not in labor.
“Not her,” Izzy says. “She’s too early, idiots.”
“Oh my God, it’s Marina,” Bonnie breathes. She yells out to Maggie, “Ma, why are you still here? Go!”
Maggie’s eyebrows turn in. She winds her hands together. “But … I don’t want to leave you.”
I see Bonnie’s face go slack, as if she’s in disbelief that her mom would choose her first. And then there’s a little twitch beside her mouth as she says, “We’re right behind you. Go. I’ll meet you there.”
Bonnie stumbles to stand, tripping over her pile of blankets and pillows. I grab her elbow and support her the rest of the way up until she’s back on her socked feet.
“Where’re your shoes?” I ask.
She looks around the shed, stuffed with piles of notebooks, candles with black wicks, and loose, rolling pens. “Somewhere around here.”
I shake my head. “You’re such a mess.”
Bonnie sheepishly smiles, but I grab her jaw and bring her lips to mine. She melts into me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt and dragging me until we’re chest to chest.
It’s fire.
It’s relief.
It’s everything in between.
It’s her .
Mess and all.
“All right!” Izzy says, clapping her hands together. “We gotta move, you two!”
“Then, let’s all load up,” I say, eyeing Bonnie’s boots in the corner and snatching them in my palms.
“Wait, you’re coming with us?” Bonnie asks me.
I lean closer, capturing another kiss before nipping her bottom lip and murmuring, “I’m following you everywhere for the rest of time.”
She grins as I lower to my knees, tuck her feet into her boots, then leave the shed with her hand in mine.