12
Annie
I knock on Jack’s door, my mind still back with Brandon and Pepper. I have seriously messed things up. I don’t want to see Jack tonight. I’m in no mood for romance and am irrationally irritated with him. I want to hobble home and pretend today and tonight never happened.
“Coming!” he calls after my third knock. He finally opens the door, his face pale and beaded with sweat, and my heart softens toward him.
“Annie! It’s good to see you.” He leans on the doorjamb for support.
The guy looks wretched. “But . . . you’d better go.
I’m sick. I’m afraid it’s Giardia. You were right.
I shouldn’t have drunk straight from the waterfall.
” There’s no way I’m going to tell him that he doesn’t have Giardia. I can’t betray Pepper.
“That’s terrible—can I get you anything?”
“It’s just enough to see your beautiful face,” he says with a goofy smile. He lifts his hand as if to brush my cheek but then makes a face as if he’s experiencing extreme discomfort and pulls it back.
“What about Pepto-Bismol?” I ask.
“That would be great!” he says, already running toward the bathroom. Maybe I should also find out how much Ex-Lax she put in those cookies?
“I’ll be right back,” I say to the empty doorway.
To save time, I go next door. I’ve seen inside Brandon’s medicine cabinet when Pepper needed a band-aid.
That man is prepared for every possibility.
I noticed maxi pads in there, probably purchased in preparation for when Pepper starts her period.
He is such a good dad. I’m still mad at myself for implying that he might not be.
The blinds are drawn, but the lights are still on. As I climb the steps, I hear raised voices.
“I might be a kid, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind,” Pepper says with passion. “I’ve seen Annie give you so many hints, and I’ve watched you ignore them. Don’t you like her?”
I freeze in place. I wait breathlessly for Brandon’s answer. He takes so long that for a panicky moment I fear they’ve heard me. That would be embarrassing, but maybe not so bad.
“Of course I like her—how can I help it? She’s joy personified. Everything is better when Annie’s around.”
I can’t say how good it feels to hear Brandon praise me. I’m soaking up his words. Everything is better when Annie’s around. One of Brandon’s simple compliments is worth three of Jack’s flowery, over-the-top compliments.
And then I’m struck with blinding clarity: I need to break up with Jack. It’s Brandon’s smiles I live for. Brandon’s affection I want. Why have I been wasting my time with Jack?
“Annie’s . . . amazing,” he continues. Brandon’s words fill me with happiness.
“But that doesn’t mean I want to date her, let alone marry her.
” My heart sinks so fast I feel a little sick.
“You need to let go of that idea. It’s never going to happen.
” He says those words with such force, they knock the wind out of me.
I can’t bear to hear another word. I silently creep away and slowly limp home through the dark resort, wiping hot tears from my eyes.
I get Jack his Pepto-Bismol and make the walk back to his cottage, still sniffling all the way. I leave it on his door and send him a text. I glance up and see the light still on in Brandon’s cottage.
Only moments ago, I was happier than I’d been in ages. I finally understood why why Brandon’s half smiles meant more than all of Jack’s grand declarations. It was Brandon. It had always been Brandon.
And now I know he doesn’t want me.
I stand and stare at his cottage for a long time.
I’m tempted to knock on his door and ask if he could have really meant what he said.
It’s never going to happen. His words cut through my heart, that doesn’t mean I want to date her.
Of course he doesn’t want to date me or marry me.
Why would he? I don’t have a real job, I doubt I have any real talent, and I would be a terrible stepmom.
Just a few months of my influence, and Pepper is headed toward a life of crime.
Brandon is too wise a man to love me. Tears run down my cheeks, and I think with some loathing that I’m completely ridiculous.
Of course he despises me—I despise myself.
I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my cardigan, feeling so pathetic. I look up to the sky. The moon has just peeked over the ridge, full and bright and shining. The moment feels significant, just like the night I met Jack under a full moon.
I walk home slowly in the moonlight, deep in thought. I don’t want to think about Brandon anymore. Jack loves me, and I . . . I probably love him. I have to.
Stupid Brandon. His words play in my head on repeat. His voice resolute and forceful: It’s never going to happen. I feel so foolish for entertaining the idea that maybe he felt something for me.
I need to think of Jack—how much he loves me, and all the sweet things he says and does. Jack thinks I’m wonderful, even when I’m a disaster. Jack chooses me. Jack wants me, and I should be happy with that. I rub the ring he gave me with my thumb, tangible proof that he loves me.
The moonstone shines ethereally in the moonlight. It feels almost like magic. The Universe is telling me something, I need to listen.
***
Two days later, I’m in the garden weeding when Jack pulls up in front of Bumble Cottage in a green Mini Cooper convertible.
I hurry out to greet him, my ankle now fully recovered (I was right; I didn’t need to see a doctor—take that, Brandon!).
He pulls me in his arms and gives me a showstopping kiss.
“I brought you a present!” He waves to the car sparkling like an emerald in the morning sun.
“A car?”
“Now that I’m staying at my boat, you need a car to visit me.
” Jack “miraculously” recovered from his Giardia and checked out of Norland Park the day after the Ex-Lax cookie debacle.
He moved back to Monterey—after “someone” broke into his cottage, he felt safer living on his sailboat docked at the yacht club.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? This is the car of my dreams!”
“I know red is the typical color for convertibles. But I think this goes better with your hair and matches your eyes.”
“I love it,” I say, lightly brushing a hand across the hood.
“I thought you might,” he says with a sweet smile.
I walk around to the driver’s seat. “May I?” I ask, my hand on the door latch.
“Yes, of course—it’s yours.”
“Jack, you can’t give me something like this. It’s too much,” I say while I’m making myself comfortable in the leather driver’s seat.
“Why not?” he says, jumping in the passenger side. “Someday everything I own will belong to you.”
I glance over. He’s looking right at me, waiting for my reaction, hopeful but also a bit nervous. “Do you mean that?” I ask.
“Yes.” He takes my hand. “Annie, I don’t know how I can make it any more clear how much you mean to me.
You are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever met.
I have never been so head over heels in love.
You are all I think about.” I feel a pang of guilt, considering how much I’ve struggled to think about Jack, how often my mind drifts to my disappointment in Brandon.
Whenever Brandon’s words, cold and disapproving, echo through my mind: That will never happen, I tap the moonstone ring Jack gave me and think of the moon rising, clear and luminous—a sign from the Universe that Jack is the one. I twist the ring now, nervously.
“Oh Jack! I can’t believe anyone as wonderful as you could be in love with me.”
“And you? Do you love me?” he asks a little nervously. I find this little bit of vulnerability so endearing. Jack waits for my answer with earnest eyes.
“I do. I should have said so long ago. I love you, Jack.” He smiles big and kisses me, and for a minute there, I think the moon really knows what it’s talking about.
We’re interrupted by a polite cough. I look up and see Edward and Elinor walking up the tree-lined lane with Brandon looming behind, scowling.
That will never happen. I tap my moonstone ring and look at Jack—beautiful, brilliant Jack who bought me this car and tells me he loves me every day. I get out of the car.
“Can you believe it? Jack bought me a car! Look at her—she’s so beautiful. I’m thinking of calling her Esmerelda.”
Elinor stares at me, her mouth agog.
“It’s a fun car,” says Edward. “Nice color.”
“It’s impractical,” says Brandon. “If you’re going to have a new car it should be all-wheel drive. You need to be safe in the rain and when the roads are icy.”
Now I’m the one agog. How dare Brandon criticize Jack’s gift?
“True,” says Jack, “But this is just a summer car. Believe me, when Annie moves out to Maine, I’ll buy her a vehicle that’s safe in the snow.”
Jack may as well have decked Brandon. For a minute his face flares with hurt and anger.
But why should Brandon care if Jack bought me a car?
That doesn’t mean I want to date her, let alone marry her.
The look is gone—I must have imagined it.
It was probably indigestion. I twist my ring and smile at Jack, who admittedly appears to be gloating, just a little.
***
“Are you really planning to move to Maine with Jack?” Elinor asks the next morning as we both bustle about the kitchen grabbing a quick breakfast.
“Oh . . . no! Or maybe? Jack is always talking about our future together.”
“Really? And what do you have to say in these conversations?”
“Well, at first, I just let him say that stuff. Because I wasn’t sure if I loved him. But now I think I do.”
“You love Jack?” Elinor’s giving me her most annoying, skeptical look.
“Yes—yes . . . absolutely.” Even I can hear how weak my words sound. “There’s so much more to Jack than his looks and money,” I say. “For one thing, he reads.”
“Oh goody! He’s literate.” I ignore Elinor’s jab.