Chapter Twenty-Five
He took us to The Lost Cajun, and we ordered a plate of beignets and two café au laits, just like that first day.
I took a sip of my coffee, trying to stall as long as possible.
He’s the one who finally broke the silence. “When does your internship start?”
“Well, there’s been a change of plans,” I told him, realizing that I had made the decision after talking to my dad. There really was no other choice. “I’m actually going to London.”
“Really?” He smiled as I nodded.
“I haven’t told my mom yet.I know she might not approve, but I really don’t want to go to law school and I’m tired of not doing what I want because I’m too worried about what others will think.”
“So what do you want to do?” he asked, and I could hear the double meaning. He wasn’t just asking me what I wanted to do with my life; he wanted to know where we stood now.
“That’s the thing. I don’t know yet. But I know that I’m never going to figure it out doing what others tell me to do,” I said. Before he could ask me to delve deeper into that, I asked him, “What about you? Any big summer plans?”
“Interviewing for jobs.”
That surprised me. “I thought you were staying at Parkhurst?”
“I’ve been exploring a few options,” he said nonchalantly.
“Anything close?” I asked, curious.
“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. “One that I’m particularly interested in is only thirty minutes away.”
I tore off a piece of a beignet and chewed on it carefully, thinking about what that meant. If he wasn’t at Parkhurst, that opened up possibilities that I didn’t want to let myself consider just yet.
After we finished our coffee, neither one of us was ready to leave yet, so we went for a walk. It was a warm evening; the inky sky was clear and full of stars.We didn’t talk much, just walked around aimlessly trying to soak in as much time together as possible because things could all be very different in a month.
Somehow, we ended up at the bench where we met for the first time. That day seemed so long ago, when really it had only been a few months. So much had changed since that cold December day.
We sat down, then he put his arm around me and I rested my head on his chest. It didn’t matter if anyone who saw us recognized us anymore. We sat in silence while I tried to compose my thoughts because I knew it was time for an explanation. I owed him that.
“I feel like I need to explain myself to you,” I said, turning to face him the best I could. “I know I have been difficult.”
“Somewhat,” he said pointedly.
“And you’ve been very patient with me.”
“Very much so,” he said, this time cracking a smile.
I returned his grin with a small smile of my own before taking a deep breath. “The thing is, I am jaded. I know that. But there is a reason.” Where do I start? I paused as I tried to figure out what I wanted to say. “You know when you are a kid, how easy it is to believe in happily ever afters? Because it’s literally all you see in movies and books. And even as you get older it’s still rare to find a movie or a book that doesn’t end in a happily ever after.”
“Daisy Miller,” he said, recognition falling over his face. “That first day we met, you were reading Daisy Miller and you said it was one of your favorites because it didn’t have the standard ending.”
I wasn’t surprised at all that he remembered that small detail, and it made me smile.
“Exactly. Most stories follow the standard boy meets girl, they fall in love, then something terrible happens to make it seem like it’s over, but at the end, everything always works out okay.So it tricks you into being brave and risking everything because you know it’s going to be fine in the end. Except…that’s not real life. And when you realize that the formula isn’t real…”
But he continued for me, “Like when you see firsthand a love that crumbles to dust right before your eyes.”
“It’s a lot harder to want to be brave and put yourself out there,” I finished.
“Tamsin, do you know why there are so many stories out there with happily ever afters? Because sometimes they do exist. Love is the beginning and ending of everything.”
“It doesn’t make it any less scary.”
“I get that. I’m scared, too. But I’m not willing to let that fear stop me from loving you because I think loving you is probably the best thing in this world, and that’s something worth being brave for.”
He reached out and gently wiped away a tear from my cheek before softly tracing my jawline down to my chin. The world around us seemed to fade away. His lips met my own, gentle at first, but then growing with intensity as if we both knew this may be our last kiss.
Of course, I didn’t want it to be the end. If I had learned anything these last few months, it’s that despite everything, I did want that ever-elusive happily ever after. But how could I possibly place my heart in the palm of someone else’s hands without knowing with one hundred percent certainty that it was the right one? I was sure at some point my mom thought my dad was the one for her, and look how that ended. Sure, he had eventually found his soulmate, but what about her? She was left with nothing but the fragmented pieces of her former life. No wonder she tried to control every aspect of my own.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” I asked, finally pulling away, my voice barely a whisper.
“But what if it does?” he responded with a crooked smile, his whiskey-colored eyes warm with hope. “What do you say? Want to be brave with me?”
“I think… I need some time,” I said nervously, unsure how he would take my reluctance.
At this point I wouldn’t blame him if he walked away from me forever. It might not be what he wanted to hear but I knew in my heart it was what I needed. I needed time to think on my own, free from distractions. Time to figure out myself and what I truly wanted.
As much as I wanted him, I knew I needed time to work my crap out before I deserved him.
“I can do that,” he said, ever patiently. I let out a sigh of relief and wondered what I ever did to warrant his love.
“What if everything changes while I’m gone?” My voice cracked as I tried holding back tears.
“Change isn’t always a bad thing,” he said reassuringly. “It could be something better.”
“But what if it isn’t?”
“Then we will look back on this time fondly, and I’ll never be able to eat spumoni ice cream or watch sparkly vampires on TV again.”
I laughed as I wiped away my tears.
Maybe it didn’t have to be over.
Maybe our paper airplane nosedived a little, but that didn’t mean that we couldn’t pick it back up and try again someday.