Chapter 42
Isabelle
I had to fix things with Austin. Because he was my future. No matter how scared I was, that wasn’t going to stop being true.
But Selena was right, so a few days after the Winthrop interview, Blake agreed to meet me. I walked along the stone path to
where I asked Blake to meet: in front of the Peter Pan statue. It felt oddly symbolic.
I took a seat and waited for him. The warm summer breeze was a gentle reminder of all the ways I let myself fall into something
that was easy rather than try for something that wasn’t. Blake and I twisted ourselves into pretzels to fix something that
wasn’t going to work in the present day. Our version of Neverland was the empty shell of a relationship I’d carried for too
long.
We’d both grown up but the remnants of what we always promised each other didn’t.
When I saw him, wearing a neatly pressed shirt and pants in the summer warmth, I smiled.
“Thanks for meeting me.” I stood from the bench when he approached.
I needed to tie off this thing with Blake neatly, because he may have made the wounds, but Austin was paying for them. And
I didn’t want him to.
Blake shifted awkwardly, his arms opened for a hug before pulling them back to his sides. “Yeah.” He looked at the bench and
took a seat. I took one next to him.
Then we both sat silent, staring at the statue like it was a game of chicken.
Except, this time, I think we were both a little too scared to confront each other. We didn’t really fight, which was why
it never really ended, at least not for me. When we did argue, it felt like the world coming down. Because it sort of was.
Our backup plans, the lifeboat we’d made for ourselves—each other—sank a long time ago.
“I wanted to explain. About Francesca,” he began. “Without all the verbal jabs this time.”
“Before you do, I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I said quickly before I could lose my nerve. Owning up to what I blamed him for
even though I was at fault here, too. “You were right. I chose.”
Thin lines sank into his forehead.
“It was me,” I went on. “I thought choosing you meant giving up me.”
He rubbed his fingers back and forth along his forehead. He was . . . confused? Maybe shocked. I don’t think I actually apologized
for that, for pinning it all on him when I’d made my choices a long time ago.
“I made it seem that way,” Blake added curtly. “Always asking for you to make the change. Honestly, I never really considered it from your point of view. I blamed you for finding reasons to end us.”
I looked ahead again. “And you don’t have to explain about Francesca. It’s not my business.”
“I owe you an explanation. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s just . . . with Francesca,
I don’t have to worry about competing priorities. No feeling like I’m being pulled in another direction. My work takes priority,
and that’s fine with her.”
A part of me wanted to yell at him for being selfish, but then I realized how hypocritical that would be. They were happy.
Or whatever it was they were. It worked for them, so I had no business judging. But whatever it was, I didn’t want that. Hearing
him say it now made me realize exactly how idiotic I’d been. I wanted what my best friend had. A love that was complex and
a man who pushed me to be better, because sometimes I stood in my own way out of fear.
But that guy had never been Blake. It was my own fault for not seeing it sooner. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
“I know you’re judging me.” He gripped the bottom of the bench and looked at the ground.
“I’m not.” I put both hands up.
“You are.” He looked up.
“Maybe a little.” I winced. “You sound a little selfish,” I added. I couldn’t help it. “Sorry.”
“It works for us.” He drifted off and I turned my head to see a small smile cresting along his jaw. “But I am happy. I’m happy for you, too.”
I smiled. “I’m glad.”
He nodded and stood. With a deep breath, he took two steps, but a part of me had to know.
“Did I break your heart?” I called after him.
He turned. With a slack jaw, he took the two steps back and sat down.
“Yeah.” His chest heaved with that one heavy syllable. “You fucking destroyed it, Isa.” He ran a hand down the side of his
face, looking around the park like he was trying to imagine us in it together, now. And finding it to be an impossible task.
“I kept telling myself, ‘One more try.’ Or ‘This time she’ll see it’s for us.’” His tongue rolled from one cheek to the other.
“It never happened.”
“I’m sorry,” I said resolutely. “Not for choosing myself but for blaming you for doing the same.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
I was selfish when I needed to be. So was he.
And in that moment, I was thankful we were. Because seeing him again made me ache, but remembering the look on Austin’s face
when I told him to go—that felt insurmountable.
“No, it wasn’t.” I rolled my shoulders back. I wanted this to end nicely because I did want him to be happy. That was probably why trying to make him jealous at the wedding didn’t feel like I wanted it to. At
the end of the day, I didn’t love him, but I also didn’t hate him. “Can I have a plus-one to your wedding?” I joked.
His tense stare forward broke with a chuckle. Then a rolling laugh. A loud one.
I blinked a couple times in disbelief. What I said wasn’t that funny. It took a second to make sure those weren’t sobs, but they weren’t.
He doubled over with laughter.
“Are you having a mental breakdown?”
“Fuck, maybe.” He ran his hand down his face and sat up. “How did we get here?”
Before we dated, years ago, we were friends. Then dating muddled it, and the amity was secondary to hurt feelings and hurt
pride.
“Maladaptive people pleasing?”
He paused and looked at me like I’d just proved the theory of relativity. He started laughing again. “Yeah . . . I’m getting
married. You became a surgeon.”
“Congratulations, by the way.” My chest began to shake with a few chuckles. His marginally psychotic laughter was contagious.
“Where are you registered?”
We stayed like that, in the same park we always used to come to together. The same one where we made promises that—in truth—neither
of us had any plans to keep. But they were a security blanket.
“You know, when I asked you if it was serious with Austin, it wasn’t because I was jealous,” he said into the quiet. I looked
at him incredulously. “I mean . . .” He let out a resigned exhale. “I was a little jealous. I get engaged, so Isa has to one-up
me by dating the guy I idolized.”
I shrugged. “I don’t like to lose.”
“I asked you if it was serious because you never looked at me like you look at him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look at him . . . I can’t explain it.” He looked up at the sky, searching his memory. “You looked like you weren’t planning what you want to say next. You looked like you were . . . listening.”
My heart dipped. “He’s . . .”
“Yeah.” Blake agreed into the silence when I didn’t finish my thought. “I can tell.”
Austin let me be myself without condition. He liked me as I was now, and I knew, down to my bones, he’d like the person who
would change with time. Because I wasn’t static or simple; I was a kaleidoscope of different things. And he liked every possibility.
My ribs ached and emotion welled in the back of my throat.
A realization came into focus . . . he loved me.
“I hope it works out.” I stood and began to turn to walk in the opposite direction but stopped. “For both of us, I mean.”
Blake represented a part of my past and an idyllic future that couldn’t ever exist in reality. Closing this chapter was long
overdue. The misguided hope and the hurt feelings. All of it.
He smiled a half smile. “Yeah, I do, too.”