Chapter 20
HE’S JUST NOT NOT THAT INTO YOU
Ginny
I spend a restless night replaying Declan’s kiss and the feel of his body against mine so much that my dreams finish what we started when I finally fall asleep, much to my continuing horror and regrets.
Mabel eventually saves me from myself and wakes me up, though it’s entirely too early in the day.
Not actually early, just too early for me.
The sun’s up and shining happily, lighting up my disaster of a bedroom like yesterday didn’t happen at all. Not the storm. Not the cash.
Not me making out with Declan after pouring my heart out to him.
“Crush time,” Mabel says.
I pull my pillow over my head. “Go have fun without me,” I grumble.
“Declan’s gone.”
I spring to sitting so fast that dots dance in my vision. “What?”
“Left a little bit ago after getting some footage of Cricket and Dori and Winona in the fields, testing the merlot and Cab Sauv after the rain. He and Shade said they’ll get the video of the crush when we pick those.”
“So he just…left?”
“Apparently some opportunity he’s been waiting for came up.”
“He’s going back to hockey?”
She squints at me. “No. He’s going to shadow a guy who makes chocolate sculptures.”
“Oh.”
“And he brought his money-testing marker. The money’s real. Unless his marker’s a fake, but I don’t think it is.”
The money.
Dammit.
It’s real.
More real than my dreams of Declan.
Naked.
Kissing me.
Bending me over the counter in the gift shop.
Doing me on the tractor.
In my bedroom, which was clean in my dreams.
I shake my head.
Stop it, Ginny. Stop stop stop stop stop being bad.
Mabel pushes a pile of clothes aside at the foot of my bed and sits. “What happened yesterday?”
I grimace. “Bad decisions.”
She lifts her brows, waiting.
I know the how long can one of us stand the silence? game, and I don’t have it in me to win today, so I don’t even try.
“He kissed me.”
“How many of his tires would you like slashed when he comes back?”
“Don’t slash his tires. I asked him to.”
She doesn’t blink. “Why?”
“Because the cash freaked me out and I started verbally vomiting all over him about the time I got arrested for stealing lube when I was fifteen and then he was hugging me like he was this giant wall between me and false accusations and it was—” I swallow and look away. It was everything.
That’s what him holding me and protecting me was.
It was everything.
“And he was such a dick to me before, but when he hugged me, it was like—like I was safe.” Being safe has always been an aphrodisiac for me.
It’s why I’ve only had three real boyfriends and why the first time I had sex was with a bartender who pretended to be my boyfriend to make a creep quit hitting on me.
“And I know it’s because I wanted to be safe, not because I was safe, but I—it made me want to do something bad. Safely.”
“Do you like him?”
“Can you not be so straightforward before coffee?”
She smiles. “In desire for caffeine, there is truth.”
“I can’t like someone without overthinking it, so I don’t know if I like him or if I’m overthinking it.”
“Cricket overthinks. You overfeel.”
“I felt all of Cricket’s overthinking, and now I do it myself too. Can I have coffee now?”
“Was it a good kiss?”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean anything more than I wanted to be kissed and would’ve taken any kiss.” Lies lies lies.
It was exactly the kiss I needed from exactly the person I wanted to be kissed by.
No more denying it.
I have a crush on Declan Fox.
“I shouldn’t have kissed him,” I add in a rush. “He’s still friends with Alex.”
“Is he? Did he tell you that?”
He didn’t.
I saw it on my brief glance at socials after Declan himself went viral when the news broke that he put out a barn fire at Caro’s surprise wedding.
Mabel doesn’t press when I don’t answer.
Instead, she pulls out her phone. “Other news, did you see this?”
I wince.
A new video is making the rounds, this one of a woman with a deep Southern drawl asking for a slice of pee-can pah at a festival.
It’s ignited the pee-can or puh-cahn or pee-cahn or puh-can argument on the internet.
But more, it’s ignited a lot of mockery for pee-can. And pah instead of pie.
“You want to invite her?” I ask Mabel.
“I did a deep dive. She’s single, works remotely as an engineer for a big manufacturing company, and was on a road trip in honor of her mom.”
“Do we have space?”
“I’ll clear my projects out of the last bedroom.”
This is the other big reason we need to get the winery operational and profitable again.
We’re running out of space to host women who’ve gone viral and need an escape from the attention and negativity.
It would be lovely to be able to afford to put a couple tiny houses on the property so that we can expand and keep doing what our entire purpose is.
“So you’re keeping the mother-in-law cottage and Heath’s basement open for Declan and Shade?” I ask.
“For now.”
I glance at Mabel’s phone again, where a notification has popped up in the app that Foxy Goes There is livestreaming.
My finger disobeys every order I give it to not reach out and click on the notification.
Mabel lifts a brow as Declan’s voice comes through her phone.
“—on the road headed somewhere exciting,” he’s saying as he walks through a parking lot.
“Two things I can tell you about where I’m headed.
One, this was my second-biggest dream when I was a kid, right after challenging Santa and his reindeer to a hockey game, and two, I expect I’ll blow a tire with what I’m attempting tomorrow. Gonna be messy.”
He grins at us through the app, hair blowing in a light breeze, dimples dimpling, stubble stubbling, then flashes the camera down to Flow, who grins as well.
She has swagger today.
“Think you’ll be helpful, Flow?” Declan asks the dog from off-screen.
Flow barks once.
Declan comes back into view, still walking, still happy and smiley and excited. “Yeah, I think she’ll be trouble too.”
Flow growls softly, and Declan laughs.
So lighthearted.
So comfortable letting the entire world watch him live.
So unaffected by kissing me yesterday.
I shiver and shut off the livestream.
Mabel’s still watching me. She never stopped.
“Not long after Alex asked me out, I was hanging out at the apartment he shared with Declan,” I tell her.
“Alex had a sweet tooth but he wanted to eat healthy, so I’d found this recipe for high-protein cookies that I was baking for him.
I was pulling the first batch out of the oven when Declan walked into the kitchen.
I started to ask him if he wanted to try one too, and he just said no, turned around, and walked away before I could finish the question. ”
“Dick,” Mabel says.
I pull my knees to my chest and hug them.
“He had this look on his face—like he knew that I was a phony, that I tried too hard, that I really was the obnoxious brat I played on TV—and at the time, I thought he was judging me. But now—now him and his I liked you has me wondering if he was making faces at himself and talking to himself when he said no. Not to me.”
“You’re making excuses for him that you don’t have to make,” she says softly.
She doesn’t add the other part that lingers in my mind.
Like you make excuses for your mother.
I refuse to look her in the eye. “And then I go down this spiral of did he see the real me?, like they do in romance novels, you know? He keeps saying these things—you didn’t pick what your mother put you through, you deserved a parent not a publicist, give yourself credit for who you are despite what the world expects you to be—and it’s like, no one else has ever—ever—put so many of my thoughts into words.
” I roll my eyes. “Outside of therapy sessions and things that we all say to each other around here.”
“What did he study in college?”
“Finance.”
“Not psychology?”
“No.”
“Has he been to therapy?”
“Not that I’m aware of. But I’ll never date again, so it doesn’t matter.
Except if there was ever a man who could somehow actually both love me and all of my insecurities around love and manage to convince me that he really loved me, then wouldn’t I be robbing myself of a chance at one more normal thing in life that I deserve?
Except I don’t deserve it because I tried to break up my ex’s wedding.
My ex, who’s Declan’s best friend. But Declan might see me.
But even if he did, he’d have to break up with Alex to be with me, and that’s not fair to them for me to hurt either of them more. ”
Mabel takes my hand and squeezes while I drop my head to my knees.
“I know, I know, more therapy,” I grumble.
“Talking to someone will only get you so far. Living is the other half of it. Put what you know into practice.”
“I’m not dating Declan.”
“Do you like him?”
“I have too much history with him for that to be a simple question and too much self-doubt for me to believe what I think the answer is.”
“Life’s messy, Gin. Living’s messy. No matter what you want it to be.”
I lift my head and squint one eyeball at her. “Have you been talking to my therapist?”
She smiles. “No. You helping with crush or not? And let me know if you have any objections to inviting Adelaide to join us here for a bit.”
“I vote invite her, and yes, I’m coming.”
“I want video for us, if that’s okay with you. Our first crush for our own wine.”
Of course I’ll let Mabel record me doing crush. I trust her with everything inside me and more. “Why can’t you be a guy? I love you. I’d marry you if you were a guy.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d think too hard about if I liked you for you, or if I liked you for how hard you work to make me like you.”
“Again, before caffeine? Really?”
She pulls an envelope out of her back pocket. “And, unfortunately, one more. Declan asked me to give you this. I don’t want to, but I think you need me to. So that it’s your decision to read it or not.”
I eyeball the envelope.
It’s thick paper, square, definitely some kind of card, not whatever scrap of paper he could find.
“Did you read it?” I ask her.
“No. Want me to stay while you do?”
“Yes.”
She sits again.
I take the envelope.
Linen.
He used a thick linen envelope.
And he sealed it with wax.
I tell myself he probably sends all of his written messages this way, that it’s a thing that people with big bank accounts do, except it’s not something I ever would’ve wondered about Declan.
If he cared about what kind of paper he put notes on.
That he thinks to write paper notes instead of getting an email address.
That he has his own personal seal, which is simple and honestly funny, the face of a grinning fox in the middle of a simple silver circle, and not at all the ostentatious kind my mother would use.
I don’t like what thinking about his attention to detail is doing to my belly and my chest.
Maybe his mom sent it to him, and it’s the only paper he had.
While he’s traveling.
With minimal extra stuff beyond clothes and a computer and a phone and his dog’s supplies.
But he has a wax seal that he took the time to use.
“You can open it later,” Mabel says softly. “Or don’t open it at all. You know I won’t judge you for it, and no one else knows he asked me to give it to you.”
I shake my head and break the seal on the flap, ignoring the way my heart is suddenly beating faster.
Inside is a thick ivory linen notecard with an embossed straight-edge frame.
Strong handwriting in thick black ink decorates the inside, front and back.
It’s much neater than the signature he would scribble on pucks and headshots and the backs of jerseys.
Ginny –
I’ve been lying to myself, and to you. Watching you this past week with your family, with your friends—you’re still the same Ginny I remember, and I still like you. You’re strong and bright and generous, always ready to give your whole heart to the people around you.
But that was never why I liked you. I’ve always liked you because you could’ve taken the easy path and leaned in to what the world believed you to be for your own fame and your own profit, but you’ve stayed true to the beliefs you’ve developed on your own about what’s right, what’s wrong, and how you want to live.
You work harder every day to be the person you want to be than I’ve ever had to work at anything, and I have an undying respect, admiration, and appreciation for you.
You’ve held my heart captive since you introduced yourself with that bright smile and your self-aware “Hi, I hope I can prove I’m not what you expect me to be,” which you’ve done over and over and over again, whether at your best or at your lowest.
But I know I’m not what you want, and I know I was out of line yesterday. I promise to keep my distance whenever I’m around for filming. I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have or be one more complication in your life that you don’t need.
You deserve all good things in life, and I hope you find everything you’re searching for.
Best,
Declan
p.s. Flow would still love to see you anytime you’d like to see her. It’s not her fault she’s stuck with me.
I read it three times, my pulse ratcheting up higher and higher until I’m rubbing my breastbone as I hand it to Mabel and let her read it too.
She meets my gaze when she’s done. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She nods. “Here if you need me.”
I grab her in a hug. “He doesn’t really know me.”
She squeezes me back tighter and doesn’t tell me I’m wrong.
That I’m too close to myself to see what he sees.
That she’s told me herself many times before that I need to give myself credit for the person I’ve chosen to be instead of the person my mother raised me to be.
That I dated the wrong hockey player for all of those years.
“That’s not a letter that a man writes if all he ever did was simply like you,” she murmurs.
I shake my head and pull away from her. “Doesn’t matter. He’s temporary, he’s my ex’s best friend, and even if I liked him back, I’d get neurotic with wondering if he liked me or if he liked the person I pretend to be.”
Mabel glances at the note, then back at me. “You’re not pretending to be a good person, Ginny. You are a good person.”
“I’ve yelled at him a lot.”
“Have you said anything intentionally mean or untrue?”
“No. Never. Of course not.”
She gives me a half smile. “Then you’re a good person who’s done putting up with his shit. You get to call people out when they hurt you.”
Once again, she leaves the other half unspoken.
That anyone who’s willing to listen when called out, anyone who’s willing to apologize and try to make amends, is probably more worth my time.
I climb out of bed. “Let’s go crush some grapes. After coffee.”