Chapter 9 #3
Because it was the last thing she expected to happen on this warm summer’s evening.
She needed to understand. You need to think, Wren, don’t react.
Think. She just needed to push the big, screaming, cartwheel emotions—he’s back, he wants me, he chooses me—aside and process what this could mean. Did mean.
Her dad taught her that permanence was a myth.
Big feelings were always followed by bigger exits.
The screech of tires at three a.m. would follow the gift of a giant stuffed teddy bear (two weeks after her birthday) and the fervent promise of a camping trip.
Promises were elastic. So she’d deliberately become a woman who excelled at beginnings—the flirtation, the spark, the electric first look.
She could choreograph attraction like a masterclass.
But what came after? The staying? The choosing? That was foreign territory.
In hindsight—and why hadn’t she realized this before—Alex flowed in and out of her life as well. He’d disappear to do a gig without telling her, or he’d be out of touch because he was infatuated with a dancer or a singer who’d caught his eye.
Yet she’d still considered herself safe enough to test the rules.
They were best friends. He knew her rhythms, her moods, her silences.
Their first kiss had been brilliant, long and sexy, and she felt like their friendship had caught fire.
The dance she’d created—it was more hers than his—had been her love letter to him.
Then when he told her he was in love with Jess, she gathered what was left of her courage and went all in—she told him that she loved him and asked him to choose her.
And now he was back, saying he’d been wrong.
That he’d chosen Jess when he should’ve chosen her.
Up until earlier today, she’d thought—believed—she was over Alex.
And she was, wasn’t she? Then why did she feel a little giddy?
Was the rush of exhilaration just because she was happy he was back, or might it be because she’d beaten beautiful, blonde, perfect Jess?
Or was it because this time he wasn’t leaving? This time, he was coming back.
And that was almost more terrifying.
“Explain where this is coming from,” she snapped out. “A year ago, you took my dance, and my confession, and chose Jess—someone you knew for a couple of weeks, above a person you knew for over a decade. And now you’ve changed your mind?”
“People do, you know. Change their minds.”
When she scowled at him, he lifted his hands.
“I made a mistake, I chose wrong. I chose new and exciting over stable and supportive.”
God, he made her sound like a comfy bra.
Alex, because he knew her well, realized that he hadn’t made any progress with that statement.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Wren.
I find myself wanting to tell you something, to talk to you, to work out a routine with you.
I hear a chord, and I think of you. Jess doesn’t carry the million memories you and I do. ”
Wren found herself softening, thinking of everything they’d done and meant to each other.
But then she caught herself and told herself to back up.
She couldn’t go from zero to hope in ten seconds flat.
How ridiculous was that? He’d left her once; who was to say he wouldn’t do it again?
And was there another, deeper, reason for this sudden change of heart?
It could be that he and Jess had a fight.
Alex was an attention hog, and if Jess was ignoring him, then she could see him running back to her.
Or maybe she’d dumped him because he’d messed around on her?
Alex’s sense of fidelity could be, um, rather fluid on occasion.
Wren had never thought he was perfect, she just always believed he was perfect for her.
“Did you and Jess have a fight? Are you having an extreme case of wedding jitters?” she demanded.
Frustration flashed across his face, and she caught a hint of his famous temper flaring again.
“Look, I’m trying to tell you that I mistook comfort for love and that I miss you, not just our friendship.
I admit it took me a while to work out what our kiss meant.
” He grabbed her beer and took a long sip, nearly emptying the bottle, and Wren remembered how they shared everything from water bottles to forks.
Being together had felt so easy, so damn natural. But she couldn’t forget that he’d walked away from her like she meant nothing.
“I thought I only wanted friendship from you, but I was wrong.”
He took her hand and linked her fingers in his, and she inhaled his scent, the one she’d known for the last decade. It was so damn familiar, and every cell and atom recognized it. It felt, damn him, like home. Like safety. Like he was where she was supposed to be.
Was it a habit? Was she reaching for something safe?
Maybe. Probably.