20. Jameson
Chapter twenty
Jameson
When I was twelve, my sister got some huge pink Barbie mansion that took up half of our living room. It had been a gift from my aunt—my dad’s sister who never had any girls of her own so always went all out on Lila. One day, my friends and I were fucking around playing football inside when I tackled my friend Brian directly into the dollhouse. The pink construction crumbled, completely wrecking the toy.
Lila cried for hours because she was sad, but also because she was so angry. It was the first time she had ever truly been mad at me for something I did that I couldn’t quickly make right.
I apologized over and over, but finally my dad took me aside and told me that I had two options: I could move on, and risk Lila never forgiving me, or I could make it right. But making it right would require sacrificing something on my part. I honestly considered just letting Lila get over it. I knew she would forgive me eventually. But I also knew I wasn’t likely to forgive myself for risking it.
So Dad let me do extra chores all summer, and it was all I did. It was the first time I realized I was exceptionally good at blocking out the rest of the world when I was focused on something important to me. I barely spent any time on anything that wasn’t earning money for the dollhouse. Two months later, I bought Lila a replacement Barbie house. It wasn’t quite as big as the first one, but it was the best I could do with the money I’d earned.
As the ice that filled my veins at the thought of the town knowing something I didn’t about the relationship between me and Bryn slowly melts, I recognize there is now frost coming from Bryn’s direction. Fuck. A replacement Barbie house may not be enough in this situation.
We both climb into the car, and she squeezes her hands together in her lap, turning her whole body away from me.
“I shouldn’t have asked to read your sister’s text messages,” I say, trying to break the tension.
“It’s fine.”
I’ve heard that from my mom’s and Lila’s mouths enough times to know that it’s not fine.
“Look, Bryn, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“It’s fine.”
I hate the dejected tone in her voice. I throw the pickup into reverse as I say, “It’s not fine. You’re upset. And I don’t like seeing you this way. Can you please talk to me?”
I can see her staring out the window from the corner of my eye as I make my way slowly back to her sister’s house.
Finally, she says, “You essentially read the Wild Bluffs version of the National Enquirer to decide if I’m interested in you instead of just manning up and asking me yourself. I was having a great time. The last few weeks have been great. And you decided you needed to see other people’s opinions of us?”
When I don’t say anything, she continues, “What would you have done if Izzy’s random high school friend who I haven’t seen in five years had said she didn’t think I was good enough for you? Would you have just ended things with me on the spot? Do you care that much about what other people think of us eating dinner together?”
“Dating,” I growl.
“What?” She’s still upset, but at least now she’s distracted.
“We aren’t just eating dinner together, we’re dating.”
“Yes. Casually officially dating. I know.” She sighs. “Look, my ex ended things between us after three years because of what other people thought about me, and it’s definitely a sore spot for me now.”
Oh, shoot. I really hadn’t thought about how it was going to make Bryn feel. I roll to a stop in front of Kelsey’s house and quickly grab Bryn’s hand as she reaches for the car door. Barbie house time, I guess.
“Please just let me explain? And, after I explain, can we please circle back to the casually officially dating?”
I can see the war happening in her head, but finally she sighs and says, “Of course.”
“My ex-girlfriend, Alexis, was…” Shit. How do I explain how taken in I was by her? How I loved her and she was fucking other guys for a year before I caught her?
Bryn’s still staring at me, a downcast look on her face, so I force myself to continue. “She was using me. The whole time. She moved in with me. She bought a fuckton of clothes and shoes and all kinds of other shit using my money. She used my name to make connections and get invited to the most important events everywhere.”
I drag my hand through my hair, feeling that same sense of bone-deep despair that I always do thinking about it, but Bryn squeezes my other hand briefly, just letting me know she’s still there.
I glance at her, and she shoots me a grimace. “Well, Alexis sounds like a shitty person.”
“Yeah. Turns out she was. She was also fucking every B-list celebrity she could find when I was away at tournaments.”
“So a shitty person and, clearly, a certifiable idiot if she was willing to risk being with you to sleep with, who? Jonas Charmon?”
A small chuckle escapes me at Bryn’s mention of one of the other golfers on the tour. A good guy, but he never seems to be in the top 10 and only makes the cut about a third of the time.
Sighing, I shake my head. “I don’t think Jonas was ever one of her targets. From what I put together after—when I obsessed over it all—it was mostly high-risk, high-return guys. Ones who aren’t famous now but definitely could be in the future. I found out because I came home half a day early from a training session with my coach and walked in on her and Newson, the backup quarterback for the Dolphins, going at it on our kitchen island. My kitchen island.”
“That sucks, Jameo. I’m really sorry that happened to you. And, honestly, it explains a lot about your golf game last year.” She looks down at her hands. “But I still don’t really understand why you cared so much tonight. Do you think I’m cheating on you? Can you not tell how much I like you?”
“Bryn, I’m…sorry.” I know it’s not enough, but I don’t know what to say.
She looks up at me, and I see the tears starting to form in her eyes. “Do you know how humiliating it was to stand there with you while you read through my sister’s texts about what the town thinks of us? Not because it was funny, but because you actually wanted to know. You needed to know what they thought about us.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your friends. It wasn’t my intention. It’s just that”—I take a deep breath—“the worst part about the Alexis thing is that my family and friends told me. They obviously didn’t know she was cheating on me, but they knew she wasn’t good for me. They could see the way that she used me without actually caring about me as a person.”
Her thumb is stroking mine now, a warm, comforting presence that encourages me to continue. “When I told Lila about a purse Alexis had given herself ‘as a gift from me for being gone so often,’ she lost her fucking shit and blatantly told me to break it off. But it seemed fair to me. I was gone”—I look at Bryn, making sure she hears this part—“I am gone all the time. So I ignored Lila. A few months later, I was home visiting my parents, a trip Alexis was supposed to be on with me but had canceled at the last minute, and my mom pulled me aside and gave me a whole speech about what love really is and how sometimes people just aren’t a good fit for one another.” I sigh, still ashamed when I recall how I treated my mom during that conversation. “I got mad and stormed out.”
I glance outside, watching a leaf blow across the street. Bryn sits there in a friendly silence, giving me the space to say what I need to say.
“So anyway, they all knew she was wrong for me. Even fucking JT—who knows absolutely nothing about women and relationships—knew she was a terrible girlfriend. But not me. I couldn’t see it. I was so blind that I thought I fucking loved her.” I look at Bryn again, trying to gauge how she’s taking all this. It definitely doesn’t paint me in the best light, but hopefully it helps her understand why I couldn’t walk away tonight.
“And so tonight you saw an opportunity to double-check. To see if everyone else could tell something about us that you were missing,” she says.
“I am sorry, B. I couldn’t not see what these people who have known you your whole life had to say about us together. I saw how annoyed you were, and it only made me feel more compelled to see what they had to say. Like you knew it would say something bad and so you didn’t want me to read it. But”—I flash her an embarrassed smile—“turns out, you may have been trying to save me from reading everyone’s assumptions about how big my dick is and if I’m boring in bed or not.”
She lets out a quiet laugh. “There is a strong division in this town about whether professional golfers are as boring in bed as their sport is. And, if you consider the average age of a professional golfer, I’m on Team Boring…on average.”
I smirk at her. “Oh, I assure you, I’m well above average. In all aforementioned measures.”
She blushes, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, and I pull her knuckles to my mouth, giving her hand a quick kiss. “Can you please forgive me for tonight? I promise, if I ever want to know what you are thinking or how you are feeling in the future, I’ll ask you first.”
She purses her lips, considering it. “Fine. I forgive you, as long as you promise never to trust gossip over me again.”
“Promise,” I say.
“Then it’s a deal.” She nods, letting go of my hand and opening the door before gracefully hopping down from the pickup.
I jump out my side and race around to meet her at the sidewalk. She raises one eyebrow and asks, “Oh, are you inviting yourself in now?”
I grab her hand and smile down at her. “We can hang out on the porch if you want, but yeah, I’m not ready for tonight to be over. Plus, I still want to have a conversation about the casual part of our casual official dating.”
“Yes?” she asks suspiciously as we walk toward the swing and sit down.
“I think we should drop it. This doesn’t feel casual to me.”
“It doesn’t feel very casual to me either,” she says.
“So officially dating?”
“Officially dating,” she confirms. “You can change your Facebook status and everything.”
I can see the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth before she finally gives in and lets it spread into a full grin. And, fuck, she’s so beautiful. I discreetly stick my other hand in my pocket, rearranging myself to hide the effect of her smile, her willingness to hear me out, to forgive me for being a dick.
I am officially dating the most amazing woman on the planet.