41. Bryn
Chapter forty-one
Bryn
Me
Are you okay?
Jameson finished his practice round over an hour ago and I still haven’t heard from him. Considering I had an early-morning meeting, it's likely the longest we've gone without talking since we started dating. We didn’t specifically agree to talk tonight, but it’s still unusual for him to not respond within an hour of me sending a text when he isn’t playing.
Now, I’m sitting in Kelsey’s kitchen, pounding a burrito bowl with extra hot sauce, replaying every minute of the meeting I had last week with Conrad Ferguson and his brother, trying to figure out where I went wrong.
Me
That big plan I had to try to save my promotion…didn’t work.
Izzy
Ugh. I’m sorry. You seemed so confident in it.
I had felt good about it. I had absolutely crushed my presentation on MyUsual. It had been surprising enough when Conrad’s assistant had invited me to New York for a meeting after I intentionally left Jameson’s name and our meeting at the New Year’s party out of my initial correspondence, but apparently, Conrad’s memory is in fine form, and he was able to put two and two together when he saw my name and “Hungry Guy” in the proposal.
Me
They claim it’s just not the right partnership for them. The main investor called me himself this morning to let me down, so at least it wasn’t an assistant brush-off?
Izzy
And this investor is…
Me
You know I can’t tell you. If I hadn’t told you about the meeting before I read the over-the-top NDA, I wouldn’t even be telling you this now.
On that note, a friendly reminder not to tell ANYONE.
Izzy
You’ve already made that clear.
Me
It’s a terrifying NDA.
It is too. I wasn’t even allowed to tell people that I went to New York for the meeting. I feel bad not looping Jameson in, especially since he was the one who introduced me to Conrad, but I’ve also never had a legal document make me anxious like the Ferguson Brothers Investment Firm’s NDA. That thing is intense.
I guess that’s the silver lining of them turning down my proposal to partner with Hungry Guy as investors in the multi-restaurant app that makes ordering your usual quick and easy.
I jump as a knock sounds on the door, a rare sound in my small town. Most people just walk right in.
“Come in,” I yell, making my way to the door.
My mom and Janice breeze in, letting in the cold of late February before Mom closes the door with a bang behind her.
She holds up a carton of ice cream, saying, “We came to see how you are doing.”
“How I’m doing?” I ask, unsure what she means.
“Yes.” She thrusts the ice cream at me before bustling over to the cupboard, grabbing two cups of water. “Janice just told me at coffee about the article. We came right here.”
I stop trying to open the ice cream long enough to shoot my mom a confused glance. “What article?”
Janice and my mom both go completely still, causing me to pause as well. “What article?” I repeat.
Tentatively, Janice starts to explain, “Well, Bryn, it’s...”
A loud bang echoes overhead, and Kelsey’s footsteps pound down the stairs, the sound so much louder than expected for someone as petite as my oldest sister.
“Bryn, did you see—” She halts mid-sentence, taking in our mom and Janice. “I assume you’re here about the article?”
Mom nods, adding, “She hasn’t seen it yet. We were just starting to tell her—”
“Here.” Kelsey doesn’t wait for Mom to finish, shoving her phone into my hand instead.
As I read, I feel the color drain from my face and the tears that start to leak from my eyes. “This isn’t...”
Kelsey scoffs. “Of course it’s not true, Bryn. Anyone who knows you knows that.”
I sit down, picking at plastic still encircling the top of my pity ice cream. “Jameson hasn’t talked to me since his practice round ended. Do you think he saw this and...”
And what? Just decided to completely ghost his girlfriend? Jameson wouldn’t do that. He loves me. He would let me explain. He wouldn’t just blindly believe the lies spewed by a toxic article that was about as click-baity as any I’d ever seen.
But for all the growth that Jameson has made in the last few months, he is also still healing from the wounds Alexis left behind. Still fears, more than anything, people using him for his money and connections—exactly what the article implies I am doing.
“No. Of course not, honey. He wouldn’t believe those lies about you.” Mom runs her hand through my hair, but I pull away, unable to believe this is happening.
Their kindness in the wake of my humiliation is making my skin crawl, the weight of their sympathetic stares crushing my lungs until there is no room for breath. I know they mean well, but I need them to leave.
“Right. Yeah. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.” I get up, herding the busybodies toward the door. “I appreciate you both coming by, but I’m sure it will all turn out the way it’s supposed to.” Catching my mom’s look of uncertainty, I give her a hug and say, “Truly, Mom, I’m fine. It was obviously a shock, but I’m fine now. And Kelsey is here, should I decide I need moral support.”
We both look back at Kelsey, who is puttering around the kitchen, making dinner for herself, and Mom raises her eyebrow as if to ask “You think she’s going to offer you moral support?” But I just roll my eyes and close the door, wishing I were in bed.
I head back into the kitchen and grab my phone off the kitchen counter where I left it sitting next to my unfinished burrito bowl and melting ice cream. I consider finishing them both, but the burrito half I ate is already like a stone sitting in my stomach, growing heavier with each thought running through my head. I don’t know how my meeting with Conrad was leaked, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Jameson is going to see me using him to access money and men to get ahead—just like Alexis.
***
I sigh, tucking my hands into the oversized sweatshirt I threw on after barely making it through the end of my workday today. I quickly shut down any talk about the article itself, though a few colleagues tried to offer their words of support or anger at such blatant lies. I’m sure a few of them think it is true—the ones who know how badly I want this promotion, the ones who heard me taking credit for bringing Jameson on to the commercial campaign.
Kyle made sure to comment on the article, sweetly noting that he hoped it wouldn’t impact my presentation next week. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about.
I sent Jameson another text, asking for the chance to explain. Then, hours later, when I knew he had to be back at his hotel for the night, I sent him another. I called. FaceTimed. But everything went straight to voicemail.
Izzy and Becca barge in, bringing with them the faint, almost metallic smell that always accompanies cold days, bearing a pizza from Wild Crusts, the one pizza place in town.
Plopping down next to me and shoving her legs under my blanket, Izzy leans her head on my shoulder, a position we’ve sat in so many times throughout our lives, before saying, “Who would’ve thought that you would ever be interesting enough to get a gossip article written about you?!”
Becca glares at my sister over the slice of pizza she just stuck in her mouth as I huff out a laugh. “Have you heard from Jameson yet?” she asks cautiously.
“No. Not a text, not a call, not even a ‘fuck off’ to let me know where I stand.” I burrow deeper into the couch, wishing I could avoid this day. This hurt.
“What a dick,” my sister grumbles, reaching forward to grab a slice of pizza for herself.
“Iz...” Becca shoots my sister a warning look, almost like she’d already told her to be on her best behavior. My sister is kind—and sarcastic, yes—but she feels deeply. And when someone hurts someone she loves, she can be brutal, holding grudges far past the point when others have let go.
Shrugging, Izzy says, “How could he not respond? It’s his fault—his fame—that made that article even exist. No one would write an article about Bryn if she weren’t dating Jameson. If I were him, I would be here, begging for Bryn’s forgiveness.”
“He’s in the middle of a golf tournament, Izzy. The Waste Management Phoenix Open is this week. He can’t just drop out so he can fly here. This is his career,” I say.
“He can pick up a fucking phone and call someone.” Her dark eyes flash with rage. “Or he could extend you the same courtesy that you do any human and answer his phone when it rings. Respond to one text.”
I glance between the two of them. “I take it Kelsey has been keeping you up to date on the situation?”
“Mom called after she left this afternoon, and, yeah, Kelsey has been begrudgingly answering our texts about you today.”
As if summoned, Kelsey strolls into the room before curling up on the couch next to Becca. “It’s been very annoying. Almost as annoying as having a random pizza party at my house at ten on a Wednesday night.”
Becca rolls her eyes at the end of Kelsey’s tirade before bringing the conversation back to Jameson again. “All I’m saying is that there could be an explanation for why he hasn’t responded. Maybe his phone is dead.”
“And the entire Phoenix area is out of chargers?” Kelsey asks before leaning forward to grab her own slice of pizza.
“Okay, maybe someone stole his phone.”
Izzy raises an eyebrow. “At the exact same time an article comes out about his girlfriend?”
“Coincidences do happen!”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “This was bound to happen eventually.” At their confused faces, I shrug. “Well, not this exactly, but Jameson deciding that I’m not worth it. With Peter, I was too focused on my job. Now, with Jameson, it’s happening again. My job is coming between us. Is it such a flaw to want to be good at what I do?”
“Bryn—” Becca starts, but I shake my head.
“Look, I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t bringing up some shit from when Peter broke up with me. I also know that there are things I’m amazing at. I’m good at my job. I’m a fun, interesting person. But I’m not great at relationships, especially relationships where I’m supposed to act like I think the other person is the lead character, and I’m just there to support them. Look what happened in January. The first time we were supposed to get together, I had to cancel because of work.” I take a deep breath, trying to push down the sob threatening to burst from me. “Jameson is great, and I’m great, but I’m not the right fit for him. This would end eventually, and I guess it just seems like I should take the easy out now before I get in too deep.”
“So you’re just going to dump him?” Kelsey asks, flicking through something on her phone.
Becca shoots Kelsey a glare, but she simply shrugs a shoulder, as if to say “We were all thinking it.”
“Do you even have to dump someone who ghosts you?” Izzy asks.
“Jesus, Izzy.” Becca throws up her hands, clearly annoyed by us all at this point.
“Honestly—” I pause, considering if this truly is what I want before I start again. “I don’t think Jameson is ghosting me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but”—I shrug—“I don’t think he’s ghosting me. But I also think this is a sign that we aren’t supposed to be together. And it feels like I should listen to that sign.”
“I could text his sister, I suppose,” Kelsey says.
“Oh my God, Kelsey. How did you not think of this earlier?” Izzy asks.
“Well, I have her number because I’m trying to convince her to come work for me once she graduates. She’s interviewed, and I’ve offered her the job, but she’s not sure she wants to move to Wild Bluffs, and I need someone who is at least nearby to meet occasionally. It felt weird to then text her about her brother ghosting my sister.”
“He’s not ghosting her!” Becca explodes.
“I mean, he may not be intentionally ghosting her, but at this point, I think we can all agree she is experiencing ghosting,” Kelsey lobs back.
Izzy pulls out her phone, raising it to eye level to unlock it. “Give me her number. I’ll text her.”
We all sit in silence, waiting as Izzy’s fingers fly over her screen. “There. Now we wait, I guess.”