Chapter 17
I slept fitfully that night. Tossing, turning, trying to get comfortable, remembering Jack’s amazing kisses, the thrill of his hands on me, the electric shocks I’d get wherever he touched me. The intensity of his eyes.
But his words threw ice water over all of it.
Not A Big Deal.
How could he say that? I’d been seriously tempted to go home with him.
To just give in and enjoy being with him.
If those kisses were just a preview of coming attractions, I know it would have been amazing.
Wonderful. But to give myself to him when he thought it would not be a big deal?
It would be a very big deal, to me. But clearly not to him.
I was right to hold him at arm’s length, emotionally.
He’d just told me that he had no intention of us ever being a couple, of having a real relationship.
I had been mistaken before. I’d thought that I’d been in a real relationship.
I’d thought we’d loved each other. But I’d been wrong, and it had taken me so long to heal from that devastation.
In a way, Jack was doing me a kindness; spelling it out ahead of time, so I could save myself the heartache of loving him and finding out I meant nothing more to him than a passing fancy.
At 4:30 I gave up the pretense of sleeping, got up, pulled on my workout clothes and went to the gym.
It was nice to have it almost empty. I got the pick of the weight machines and then logged several miles on my favorite treadmill.
Yes, technically, they were all the same, but the one second from the right was mine.
I came home, showered and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and went grocery shopping.
I enjoyed the zen of pushing a cart up and down the aisles, letting my mind go blank, only thinking about my shopping list. Cottage cheese.
I would not think about Jack. Orange juice.
I would not think about sitting on his lap, with his arms around me.
Lettuce. I tried not to shiver as the memory of his kisses on my neck caused my goosebumps to erupt.
Focus, Eve. Udon noodles. Udon noodles. Did I need udon noodles?
What are udon noodles? I gave up and took my meager groceries home.
I put away the groceries and realized it was time for my weekly call to Grandmère. I tried to call her every Sunday and give her an update on my life. I knew she was especially interested in my love life. Ever since the debacle of LCB she’d been concerned that I would end up old and alone.
“Bonjour ma petite!” she answered, with her usual warmth. Hearing her voice always felt like getting a hug from her.
“Bonjour, Grandmère, how are you doing?”
“I am well, sweetheart. How are you?”
“I am fine, Grandmère,” I lied, trying to hide the sadness in my voice. I didn’t want to worry her.
“You had the big concert last night, did you not?” I’d told her last week about the ticket and the plans to go shopping. She’d been excited for me to have a big night out, something different from my usual routine of work. Back to that fear of me ending up old and alone.
“Yes, I did.”
“And was it wonderful?” she asked breathlessly.
“It was a very good concert, yes. They sang some of my favorite songs and it was a lot of fun.”
“And your young man, how was he? Did he take you to the back of the stage?”
“Yes, I went backstage and got to meet the whole band.” My cheeks flushed at the memory of how exactly I’d met them, wrapped up in Jack. “They were all very nice.”
“And you will see this young man again, yes? Are his intentions honorable?”
I stayed silent a moment as tears filled my eyes. Swallowing the sadness I said, “I don’t think I will see him again. I don’t think he wants to have me as a girlfriend.”
“Chérie, then he is clearly an idiot. What sensible man would not want you?”
Any of them, I sniffed to myself.
“It doesn’t matter, Grandmère. He was no one special.” It was a lie. He was special. So much so that my heart ached just thinking about him.
“Eve, I do not believe you. Has he hurt you?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m fine. I’m just,” I searched for the right word, “sad.”
“What has he done to make you feel sad?”
“He didn’t do anything. He just let me know he’s not interested in me in a serious way. And I just don’t have the time or energy to do meaningless relationships.”
“You mean like hooking up?”
“Grandmère, where did you learn that term?!” I asked, shocked.
“Oh, Bernard keeps me up to date with all the culture.” She sounded pleased with herself.
“I do miss you and Bernard. How is he?”
“Oh, that old gasbag, he is always up to something. Did I tell you he won a new car in his poker game last week? Yes, a brand-new Mercedes from some young fool who thought that because Bernard has wrinkles and little hair, he is an old fool. Ha, he showed him! And then he took me out for macarons to celebrate. It is a very nice little car. We will take you for a drive when next you visit.”
I smiled. That sounded just like something Bernard would do. I loved the pair of them. I suspected they loved each other, but they were much more suited to be neighbors than to live together.
“I look forward to it, Grandmère. Listen, I should get going. I’ve got a lot of work to do here.”
“D’accord, ma petite. Please take care of yourself since I’m not there to do it. Make yourself a good dinner and have a bath. You will feel better. I love you, dear heart.”
“I love you, too, Grandmère.”
Thinking of Grandmère and Bernard and eating macarons made a wave of homesickness wash over me.
Normally when I thought of home I thought of New York and my beautiful apartment, but in this instant, home was sitting between Lily Lambert, my lovely grandmother, and Bernard on her Louis IVX sofa, eating pink macarons (we always bought a selection, but it was understood the pink were mine) and sipping thick, rich hot chocolate with whipped cream on top.
That was how I made it through my first winter without my parents.
Wedged between their love and concern, with treats to coax a smile from me.
I ended the call and plugged my phone into the charger, turning it to airplane mode.
I did laundry. Which was a mistake. My concert outfit was on the top of the laundry hamper.
I took the Future Mrs. Jack Garcia shirt and stuffed it into the garbage.
What a joke that was. I was past, present, and future Miss Eve Lambert.
Apparently, I was not wife material. The rest of the concert accessories followed the shirt into the trash.
Trash in the trash. That made me smile a little bit.
The momentum of purging put me into full cleaning mode.
I needed to clean out my home and maybe that would give me some mental clarity as well.
I vacuumed, dusted, and wiped down every hard surface.
When I still had images of Jack pop into my mind, I went hardcore and emptied the fridge, throwing away everything close to expiration date, wiping down the shelves. and washing the drawers.
After I put away all my cleaning materials I was exhausted.
Mentally and physically. I was tired of trying to fight off the thoughts of Jack in my mind.
I sat down with a yogurt for dinner at the kitchen table.
I peeled back the lid and ladled up a spoonful.
A tear rolled down my cheek. And another.
It started out as rogue tears escaping but turned into great heaving sobs.
I liked him. I really liked him, I finally admitted to myself.
He’d turned my world upside down in such a short span of time.
He was like a bull in the china shop of my life.
But, strangely, in a good way. I hadn’t laughed as much as I did with him since…
since LCB. And that was the problem. He’d snuck in, under my radar, made me laugh, made me care, made me want him.
And was he any different than LCB? Apparently not. He wanted to use me just like LCB had.
With a heavy heart, I threw away my yogurt container and put the spoon in the dishwasher. There. Spotless apartment. Train wreck in my heart.