22. The Veronica Problem #2
I keep driving, though my eyes burn. I think back to high school. I remember Veronica. She wasn’t evil like Carol. Carol was the spawn of Satan. She’d stab you in the back, all the while pretending she was your best friend.
Veronica was different. She was the guys’ favorite because of the accent, and if Carol wanted to stay popular, she had to befriend her, but I wasn’t concerned with their popularity.
I was concerned with Bo and Tyler. No one spoke ill of my boys.
Yes, my boys. I may have been the younger sister, but I was full of fire and still was when needed.
But as I saw Veronica lean over and kiss Bo, it was everything I could do not to cry.
In high school, every guy wanted her. She was forward, had the accent, and was valedictorian.
Who wouldn’t want her? Bo did. I couldn’t help but wonder if they would have stayed together if she’d stayed. My heart hurt just thinking about it.
The road home was twelve minutes. I use every one of them.
It was nothing. He knew a lot of people.
She was an old friend. People kissed each other on the cheek all the time; it didn't mean anything, it was just a friendly gesture, and I was being ridiculous, right?
And she'd just kissed him on the cheek outside the inn after getting out of his truck. My mind started to go in circles. Now I knew what it was like being in Rusty’s head.
I talk myself into being completely fine four different times on the drive home.
It didn't take once.
By the time I got back, I'd changed clothes, put my hair up, and was sitting at the kitchen table with my binders open and a soda I’d already drunk.
I was a stress worker. I worked to work out stress, worry, and insomnia when I couldn’t sleep.
Mom said that made me a workaholic; I said it made me productive.
I'd already placed the order and added them to the binders; now I was just going over them again, for the third time.
Then I hear Bo's truck on the drive and pretend to be busy or focused.
Bo comes through the door, kisses the top of my head the way he always did, and I smile because I couldn't not. But something in me is still sitting at that corner on Main Street, watching a woman lean over the console, kissing my boyfriend. We are dating, right? I didn’t misinterpret that?
He moves around the kitchen. It stopped being mine the day he moved in. Picks up my empty soda can and replaces it with a fresh one, which makes my heart happy, and my chest hurt a little.
"You have a look," I say.
"I don't have a look."
"You absolutely have a look."
He sets his soda down and leans against the counter. "I ran into someone in town."
I set my pen down.
"Veronica Eden. She was in our year. She's back for a photography project." He watches my face. "You know her?"
"I saw her at Ethel's." I keep my voice even. "Mae Hutchins gave me and half the diner the full briefing."
The corner of his mouth goes up slightly. "Naturally."
"She asked me to dinner."
I try to keep the smile in place. I really do. But it slips, because I'm only human and I've been sitting with that image since Main Street, and I am tired of pretending I hadn't seen what I'd seen.
"I told her I was dating you." He holds my gaze. “Thing is, I did want to go to dinner.” He pauses for a moment, and my heart breaks.
A part of me knew that I would never be what the other girls were. Chic and classy. I am rough around the edges, and more than people knew, I am actually shy.
“Just not with her,” he says, walking up behind me and placing his arms around me. "It was a no-brainer," he whispers in my ear, which sends shivers up my spine.
I breathe out in relief. I can’t believe it. “You chose me over Veronica?” I ask, looking up at him upside down.
The corner of my mouth turns up before I can stop it.
"Really?" I ask.
And then the smile fades again. Because the inn was still there. The waves, the makeup, the lean over in the cab.
Bo's expression shifts. "What's up? You look like you're about to cry."
I take a breath. "I drove past the inn on the way home. I saw the two of you." I blink at him. "She kissed your cheek."
He moves around me, coming to face me. Pulls me up from the chair and into his arms.
"I don't know why she did that," he says, his eyes searching mine. "She hasn’t changed one bit since high school. But I told her about us,” Bo says, “and not one time was I ever interested in her.
" He tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
"It's always been you, sweet girl.” The corner of his mouth curves up.
"She said, ' Lucky her.’ I said, ‘Lucky me,’" he says.
I press my forehead against his chest for just a second.
Then I step back and pick up my pen.
"Gerald absolutely upsized that pot on purpose," I say.
"He did," Bo agrees, pushing off the counter. "And it's a better size."
I point the pen at him.
He grins and goes out the back door to install the sprinkler.
“Oh, and don’t make dinner. I preordered it.
Delivery should be here around five. I have to know if that no-nose wizard ever dies.
” Bo says on his way out, and just like that, we are back, even if my confidence is shaken a little.
If there was ever a reason to wonder, her name is Veronica Eden.
I sit back down at my binders, and the kitchen goes quiet again.
I think about what Mae had said. Dated Bo Gates for a hot minute their senior year.
A hot minute.
And Bo had said no to dinner. Had walked into my kitchen and told me about it before I'd even asked. He told her he was dating me, the one she called Fay, because she hated that I liked Bo.
I'd spent a long time being someone's something. Tyler's sister. Rick's daughter. The girl Kevin wanted.
But Bo Gates had called me his. My heart is dancing.
I close the supplier quotes and start the laundry.
I smile at the window.
Lucky me.
I am loading my jeans when my phone rings.
It is Mom. I answer, ready to hear her complain about Dad not wearing his boot.
“Hey there, sweety.” I know something is wrong just by her tone. “Just got a text from Tyler's headquarters.” She doesn’t even wait for me to ask; she knows. “He’s had an accident, but he’s fine. There was a landing crash, and he’s in surgery now. They’ll call later when they know more.”
Bo comes in right as I fall to my knees.
“What happened?” he asks, holding me to his chest. I tell him, and he just holds me. What is there to say?