Chapter 4
Nora
I’ve been trying to avoid the subject of your reincarnated relationship with Jordan, but it’s obvious your attention is there…as it should be,” Sydney says, but I’m barely listening. This lunch is turning into another situation I don’t want to endure now that Jordan and my fake girlfriend status has entered the conversation. Yet, it’s not as if it hasn’t been constantly weighing on my mind.
Like the best friend she is, Sydney took me to lunch to give me an opportunity to talk about it.
“When are you going to see him?” she asks carefully.
“When I’m forced to.”
“Delaying it is not solving anything.”
“Sure, it is. The longer I wait, the more likely he’ll remember, and this whole damn ordeal will end.” I take a sip of water because my throat feels like I ate fresh-off-the-skillet fajitas instead of a cool salad. “He can go back to hating me, and I can go about my life as if none of this ever happened.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want out of this second chance?”
My answer is a solid, you-know-me-and-don’t-be-ridiculous glare. Plus, responding would only dignify a question that never should have been asked.
“Fine. I’ll tuck that away for another time.”
“Or never.”
“There will come a time when this conversation ends differently. I’ll just keep my comments to myself until—Hey, is that Josie?”
My eyes follow where she’s pointing through the wide front windows of the restaurant, and I see Josie carrying four too many grocery bags. More like she’s dropping four grocery bags. Cans and apples roll across the sidewalk. Boxes tumble out of flimsy, overstuffed plastic bags. As her head drops back in exasperation, I get what feels like a steeled-toed boot to the shin.
“Go help her,” Sydney says when I don’t jump up with eager excitement. “It will do you both good to get to know each other.”
“Syd—”
“Go!” She nudges me with her hard-ass boot again and stupid me doesn’t dodge it despite knowing it was coming.
With a long exhale, I slide to the edge of the booth, rubbing my sore leg under my jeans before standing. “I hate you.”
“Love you, too,” she sing-songs as I storm out of the deli. This is our regular go-to lunch spot for escaping the hustle at VETS. What I wouldn’t give to escape the uncomfortable confrontation I’m about to thrust my stupid self into against my better judgment.
“Need a hand?” I hear myself ask, but it sounds hollow, like an unbalanced voiceover. Like someone else is hastily covering up what I really want to say with what I should say.
“That would be—” When she sees it’s me asking, her tone and demeanor switch from friendly appreciation to stubborn refusal. “I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Josie. Let me help by giving you a ride. How were you going to carry this back to your apartment?”
“It’s not that far, and if the bags hadn’t ripped…”
“Jordan’s not alone, is he?”
She lets out an audible exhale and collects the can of green beans that rolled against the light pole base. “No. Jackson’s with him.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just…” Feeling awkward, I stack the boxes of cereal and pasta into a tower and lift them into my arms.
“It’s what, Nora? You were worried about him?”
“Yes, actually.”
“That’s new.”
I take a moment to calm my rising temper before my tongue says what my brain is thinking. Rarely do I bother with that, but the shitshow casserole has already been assembled, and I don’t need to mess it up further by adding my salty seasoning. “Josie, just because our relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean I didn’t care for him.”
“Well, your actions said otherwise.”
I swallow the pile of salt my attitude poured into my mouth in response to the comment and try again. “My car is right there.” Her head swivels to take in her saving grace a few steps away. All she has to do is accept that the devil isn’t the one offering it and get in.
“Okay,” she surrenders, shifting the heavy bags in her arms. I take a few to relieve the load. “I’d appreciate a ride. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We drop the groceries into the trunk and take off without further incident and in haunted house silence. But now that I have a captured audience, I attempt to file down her hatred of me. “How’s the apartment?”
“It works.”
First pass at it, complete failure. As I search for another safe topic, she sits up suddenly, her eyes zeroed in on something in the distance.
“Oh! A yard sale. And they have a table.” Lost in her excitement, she seemingly forgets who she’s with, and sweetly asks, “Mind if we stop?” She leans on the dash to get a better view of the items as I pull up behind another car and park. “Thanks.”
The door flies open, and she rushes across the small grassy area before I turn off the engine, leaving me behind. Guess we’re doing more shopping on our four-block drive. When I catch up, she’s already clutching a stack of yellow, orange, and brown dishes straight out of the seventies.
“I love anything vintage,” she says to the older woman with a button-down plaid shirt, jeans, and fanny pack behind the table, tracing the edge of the table she saw from the road. It’s antique mahogany in exquisite condition, with carved legs and six matching chairs. “How much is it?”
“Four hundred,” the woman says, but Josie’s shoulders slumping in response has her adding, “or best offer.”
“On second thought, it might be a little big for our apartment. It’s beautiful, though. I’ll just take these.” Her smile fades to disappointment as she tosses a bundled set of silverware onto the bowls, juggling the heavy stack like a clumsy waitress. They shift and lean as she reaches for her purse.
“Why don’t I hold those?” Her head swivels in surprise at my presence, and without giving her a chance to be stubborn, I secure the dishes in my arms.
“There’s another sale down around the corner if you’re interested,” the woman snaps the tension between us, and Josie passes her a ten-dollar bill.
“Thanks,” she says and turns to me. “I’m going to jog over there to see if I can find anything else for the apartment.”
“Sure, but why do you need all this? Aren’t you moving back to New York when Jordan returns to the base?”
“Sydney didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Let’s put those in the car and take a walk.”
I follow her back to the car, too stunned by her tender delivery and warning about more secrets to think for myself.
The next yard sale is within view when she finally breaks the silence. “I’m staying in Richmond for the foreseeable future, and Jordan’s not going back.”
“What?”
“The accident happened on the day after he left the base for the last time, honorably discharged by choice, of course. Not because of his injuries, as you probably think.”
“I didn’t know he…I thought he wanted to make the military his lifelong career. And that he’d go back to serving after he healed.”
“That’s what he thinks, too, thanks to his symptoms.” She sighs. “Part of me thinks he retired for you.”
We reach the sale, and as I follow her past each table, disbelief has me seeing none of it. There’s no way he left the military for me. We hadn’t spoken for over nine months. If anything, he did it to forget me.
“Jiminy crickets! Look at this quilt.” Her excitement grabs my attention. She traces the intricate pattern with a finger, checks the price tag, then tucks it under her arm before moving on. “Since I didn’t hear otherwise,” she says without looking away from the items, “I assume you decided to do what I asked.”
“I have,” I manage while trying to ignore the nerves that feel more like blood-thirsty vipers in my belly. “But not without a mountain of reservations. This could end far worse than if we just told him the truth.”
“Possibly, but it’s up to you to ease him into it and make sure he doesn’t come out of this more damaged.”
“How in the world am I supposed to do that? He’s going to be—”
“Ooo. Stainless steel pots.”
“Josie.” I gently grab her arm and turn her to face me. I need advice, even if it’s from the queen viper herself.
“Just make him fall out of love with you.” She shoots venom at me with her blistering glare. “You’ve done it before. You can do it again.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair? The truth?”
“You don’t know—”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
I glance around, and thankfully, the only other shoppers are an older couple, paying us no mind. The home’s residents are another story. But Josie barrels on as if she wants the entire block to know what she thinks of me.
“I was there for him when you weren’t.” She steps closer to challenge me, and I hold my ground, respecting her strength.
She’s scrappy, smart, and fierce despite her small stature. And if she didn’t use her disdain for me as a weapon, I might actually like her. But we’re nowhere near that now.
On the surface, we’re not so different. While I haven’t fought for everything in my life as she has, no one’s handed me anything either. My own battles have hardened me, and my work ethic has rewarded me. I protect my friends and family, too, just as she is protecting Jordan.
“You want to talk about fair?” The folded quilt she’s hugging to her chest fills the inches between us. “What about Jordan? He served eight years for his country in the most dangerous situations and returned with not one blemish. Less than forty-eight hours after he leaves, he’s almost killed by a frickin’ drunk driver. He doesn’t remember any of it, or that he’s moved on from the one person who broke him more times than any drill instructor or weapon ever could. So, tell me, Nora. How fair is that?”
“It sucks, Josie, but this situation is not my fault. It was your idea to bring me into it, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop treating me like the enemy.”
She stares me down as she backs away to resume shopping. “Alright,” she says easily, picking up a small wooden cutting board to examine the dents and grooves on both sides. “Answer this question first…truthfully.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
A smirk lightens her eyes when she glances my way. “Did you ever love him?”
Damn. Anything but that. As promised, I answer honestly, giving her insight into something no one else knows. “Yes.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Do what?” I stall. I know what she’s asking, and I can’t avoid her question, thanks to my I-have-nothing-to-hide arrogance. My eyes blur over the eclectic arrangement of trinkets on the table.
“Don’t give me that shiitake.”
“Shiitake?” Snapping out of my sulk, I pinch back a laugh. Is she really so perfect that she can’t taint her flawless lips with a curse word?
“You know what I mean.”
“It’s shit. Mushrooms don’t have the same effect as a steaming pile of—”
I gasp when my eyes land on a rainbow squishy toy in the shape of a pile of poop. It has a goofy smiley face on it that matches my gratification over the impeccably timed irony. I snatch it up and display it proudly on my palm. “I’m getting this for you.”
She giggles before remembering she despises me. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“No. I’m hopefully making you hate me less.”
“I don’t hate you.”
My throat tosses out a yeah-right scoff as if I have no control over my body.
“Truly,” she insists. “I just don’t trust you with my brother’s heart.”
Can’t blame her.
“He seems to have a softness for you.” She adds a light blue shower curtain and matching bath rugs to her arms. “Or a high tolerance, depending on how you look at it.”
It comes out like she’s talking through something she doesn’t understand, so I choose to believe she didn’t mean it as an insult. After all, she’d protect Jordan with her life and only sees good in him. If I allow myself to see her point of view, she’s right to guard him. He is one of the purest, kindest, sweetest souls, and I’m none of those things.