Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ELLIE
SIX MONTHS AGO
There’s something about the late summer sun that’s so…
melancholy. I’m not really sure why I feel that way.
I don’t think it’s about summer ending. I like summer, sure, but I love fall.
Maybe it’s memories of going back to school?
Or maybe it’s the coming back from a summer vacation that I associate with the close of August.
My eyes are shut and the low sun is flickering through the trees, an alternating red and black flashing behind my eyelids as we take the train up the coast toward Ogunquit Beach.
We’ll still have to take a car from the train stop into town, but suffering through ten minutes is a hell of a lot better than two hours.
My stomach clenches at the thought. Josh and I are joining our friends John, Chandler, Zoey, and Graham at a rental house like we always have, but it’s feeling different than it has in the past. This might be the last one for a while. Maybe ever.
I got my job offer at General last week and I’d be crazy not to take it.
I want to take it. But it means our favorite vacation spot is no longer an hour and a half train ride away.
Not to mention how much farther we’ll be from our friends.
I feel a pang of worry at the prospect of not having a group of friends around in Minneapolis, but I remind myself that Josh and Dev will be with me and I will make new friends. Hopefully.
We haven’t talked about it much, but I assume Josh will move with me sometime next month unless he has issues with his job transfer.
I guess I could go first and he could follow if it comes to that.
I’ve never lived fully on my own, so even the idea of doing it for a month or two is a little intimidating, but I’m sure it’ll be okay.
After we get off at the train station, we make our way to the small line of taxis waiting for passengers. We slide into the first one and give the driver the name of the restaurant we’re meeting at, knowing we don’t have enough time to drop our bags off at the rental house first.
I can feel Josh watching me out of the corner of my eye. I buckle my seat belt, pulling it tight, and close my eyes. Ten minutes. One minute, ten times. I decide to count backward from sixty, ticking down one finger every time I get to zero.
I have one finger still up and am at twenty-seven when I feel the car stop and hear the driver repeat the name of the restaurant we gave him.
Cautiously opening my eyes, I sigh in relief when I see the familiar building outside the window.
I quickly unbuckle and get out of the car.
Josh pays the driver and walks over to me, grabbing the bag from my hand.
“You good?”
I give a jerky nod and forge ahead into the restaurant. Thank god Zoey promised I can drive her car while we’re here. And double thanks that our house is walking distance to the beach.
As we get inside, we’re met with crowded-restaurant ambiance and struggle to give the hostess the name on the reservation.
She finally hears us and lets us know our group has already been seated.
As she leads us to our table I take in the old floors and cozy seating.
The restaurant looks like it was just a house once, with lots of separate rooms instead of one big space.
The lighting is low and the flickering candles add to the warm atmosphere.
There’s a reason we make a point to eat here every time we visit.
I feel myself relax and get a little giddy at seeing my friends in one of my favorite restaurants.
I do my best to hang on to that feeling so I don’t get swallowed by the looming finality this trip represents.
I see Zoey first and nearly squeal. She’s been gone most of the summer visiting her family in California and this is the first time I’m seeing her since early June.
She’s a high school teacher, and while I wouldn’t want her job, her free summers always make me jealous.
Lucky bitch. I met Zoey my freshman year of college and we roomed together every year of school after that.
She’s sporting a true San Diego tan and her dark hair is down in waves.
Graham, her boyfriend, smartly moves out of the way as she nearly loses a shoe trying to get out of the round booth.
“Ellieeeeeeeee!” she sings as she hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. I do my best to give her the same treatment, but she’s got about three inches on me and a smidge of muscle. Maybe more.
I should really join her for that stupid yoga sculpt class she keeps begging me to go to. Ugh.
“Hi. You look hot,” I tell her, with not an ounce of jealousy. I scan her tan legs again and sigh.
“Oh hush, you know it’s the tan. It’s like makeup for your body.
” She laughs and scoots back into the booth, making room for me and Josh.
I slide in and say hi to everyone else as Josh gives John their signature man-hug before settling next to me.
His longtime friend thankfully made an excellent choice of partner, and now he and Chandler fit right in with the four of us.
Chandler gives me a big smile and I promise her a hug when we all get out of the booth.
“I want to talk to all of you, but I’m starving so can we order first?” I ask with a guilty smile.
Josh laughs and hands me a menu, which I immediately begin to scan. I’m looking at the drink list when the waitress comes over to take our orders. I order a fancy cocktail and the salmon and try my hardest to ignore my grumbling stomach. I should’ve eaten before we left.
“So what’s up with everyone?” Josh asks, dropping a hand on my bouncing knee.
I stick my tongue out at him and stop my shifting, turning to focus on the group. I see Chandler look at John, and watch John face everyone.
“We actually have some news,” he says, a nervous smile on his face. He leans down and is reaching for something under the table. He comes back up and is holding…a sonogram?
“Oh my god!” I screech. “You’re pregnant?!” I push Josh out of the booth and scramble over to the other side to give Chandler a squeeze.
“Congrats, man,” Josh says behind me, giving John another hug and then leaning around me to give Chandler one too.
I move out of the way to let the rest of the hugs commence and settle back in my seat. A baby! Eeeek! I love babies. This is so exciting.
“Ellie, I need you to get pregnant so we can have babies together. I know Zoey is a lost cause,” Chandler says.
I laugh at the last part, elbowing Zoey.
“Hey, I do all my parenting at my job. I have nothing left for these hypothetical babies,” Zoey reminds us. She’s always known she doesn’t want kids and I respect the hell out of it. Kids are no small decision.
“We know,” I tell her affectionately and pat her leg.
“So…how about it, Ellie?” Chandler asks with a waggle of her eyebrows.
I laugh at her antics and knock my shoulder into Josh next to me. “I think the plan is to wait a couple years,” I tell her.
“Oh nice. Didn’t know you changed your mind, man. You gonna get it reversed?” John chimes in, and my gaze shifts from Chandler to him, but he’s looking at Josh.
I try to process what he just said while simultaneously watching his expression go from casual to…panicked.
It’s like my brain is moving in slow motion. I can see the alarm on his face, plain as day, but I can’t seem to connect the dots. Reversed… Reversed…
The loud chatter of the restaurant seems to fade to the background and a slight ringing in my ears takes over as my mind finally puts it together.
I feel my face get hot and then it’s like something is squeezing my ribs.
I try to quell the rising emotion so I don’t make a scene.
A quick glance at the table and I know it’s too late.
Everyone, even Zoey, is looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.
If there was any chance of me playing this as if I knew what was going on, I blew it with my dumbstruck reaction thirty seconds ago. I’m suddenly glad I haven’t eaten yet.
“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” I force a tight smile and angle a thumb toward the back of the restaurant. Josh isn’t dumb enough to keep me at the table and moves out of the way to let me out. I feel him following close behind me and can’t decide what to do.
I push open the bathroom door. He can wait.
I flick the lock and lean my forehead against the cool wood.
Okay. Okay. What the fuck.
Finding out my boyfriend of three years got a vasectomy in front of a group of friends was not on my bingo card. You know what else wasn’t on my bingo card? My boyfriend getting a vasectomy.
My mind is spinning with so many questions and so much hurt I can’t even form a coherent thought. When? Why? What does this mean about our relationship? I think back to when we started dating and how Josh asked about what birth control I was on. We’ve talked about kids, for fuck’s sake.
“Ellie?” I hear Josh’s muffled voice from outside the bathroom door as the handle gives a jiggle.
“This is the—” My voice cracks and I want to die. I swallow and clear my throat, trying to keep any tears from emerging. I really don’t want to do this here. “This is the girls’ bathroom,” I remind him, hoarse, shaky voice be damned.
I hear a rough sigh and the handle stops moving.
Where do I go from here?
PRESENT DAY
I tell myself it’s not even close to what happened last summer, but those hardwired feelings of betrayal surface like a reopened wound—painful and all too familiar.
Matt lied. And I know it was by omission, but I’ve been there, done that and my radar is throwing up a little red flag.
A fucking hockey player, of all things.
I pace my kitchen like a sad, zoo-caged animal and debate trying the “screaming into a pillow” thing with this kitchen towel to see how that makes me feel.
I don’t think I could actually scream though.
Also that’s probably gross. I’ve been aggressively wiping the counter with it for the past ten minutes.
Goddammit.
He was so nice. And sweet and patient and…ugh, hot. No wonder he has massive quads and a literal six-pack. Obviously finding the perfect guy to practice with would come with a catch.
I don’t know where to go from here. I laugh humorlessly at the cruel reminder of having that exact thought all those months ago.
There’s just really nothing like finding out your boyfriend of three years withheld life-changing information from you for your entire relationship. It leaves a bit of a mark.
And I know Matt and I weren’t in a relationship of any kind, but I liked him. A lot more than I thought possible after one night together. But I don’t really want to get involved with a pro athlete of any kind, let alone hockey. I just can’t imagine we’d be…compatible.
Memories of last night might beg to differ though.
I’m just so…so bummed. With Matt. With myself. Of course he’s a freaking hockey player. I slept with a hockey player. My stomach drops at the reminder. How could I do this?
I wish I had never gone to that bar. Does he even own it?
A prickle of unease crawls up my spine as I think about what else he could’ve lied about.
People lie to get laid all the time. Then I remember I propositioned him and want to slap my forehead with my palm.
He also didn’t seem like a liar. I shake my head, desperate to clear this mess in my mind.
I could find out if he was truthful about one thing…
Resolved to get at least one answer, I throw on some less sleep-ridden sweats and grab my jacket, beanie, and keys.
I’m so singularly focused on my mission I don’t even remember the walk, but by the time I go to open the bar door, my hands are practically frozen solid.
I do my best to curl them around the handle and pull it open.
“Sorry, we’re close—” Nate’s shout from the back is cut off when he glances up and makes eye contact with me. “Oh, hey. Uh, Eleanor, right?” Nate asks with surprise, glancing between me and the door.
Good memory. “Ellie.” I correct him on autopilot.
He nods and stands up straight from where he was crouched near some bin on the floor.
“Does he…” I clear my throat and try again. “Does he own this bar?” It comes out shakier than I wanted, but at least I asked what I came here to find out.
Nate’s expression shifts from apprehension to confusion. “Matt? Yeah, he co-owns it with me.”
Oh. Well, all right. I feel myself deflate, the initial shock and sting settling into something tamer. And without those things to focus on I find myself…embarrassed. What am I doing here?
“Okay, thanks.” I nod quickly and turn to leave.
“Hey, Ellie?” Nate’s voice stops me and I face back toward him. He’s looking at me with some unreadable expression. “Is everything okay?”
What am I supposed to say to that? Oh, yeah, everything is great.
I just slept with your friend and am feeling unreasonably bothered that he withheld information I had no right to.
I fight a physical cringe. I aim for a casual shrug instead.
“Yeah, sorry about barging in here,” I tell him, my blush likely giving away my newfound shame.
I push the door open and walk out, desperate not to make more of a scene than I already have.