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“I mean,” I say, rambling because I can’t stand the silence. “I guess I can’t go my whole life just working little side jobs and hoping I’ll figure out my future later. Right? Maybe I really should consider taking a real job like this. It’s just so far away…”
I want him to reach across the table, take my hand, and beg me not to do it. I want him to say I belong here in Frosty Harbor with him–that he doesn’t care if we haven’t even known each other a full month, because he knows he doesn’t want to let me go. I want him to say all that because I’m too scared to make the decision for myself. I want him to convince me I won’t be giving up on this job for a guy who still isn’t sure he wants to be with me.
I want the kind of act of commitment people make after months or years of being together. I want all of that from a guy I’ve known for like twenty-five days or something? It’s ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop my chest from aching when I see the way his expression has gone flat.
Our server sets the food down and Jesse picks up his silverware, eating without a word.
My stomach clenches as I build myself a chicken, steak and shrimp fajita. I couldn’t make up my mind, so I went with all three meats.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask. It’s about as direct as I can bring myself to be. The question feels so obviously designed to get him to say what I want. Do you want to beg me not to go? Or even just gently suggest I could think it over through the holidays?
“About the job?” he asks. His casual tone slips into me like a knife, which he twists when he shrugs. “It sounds like a real opportunity for you.”
“Yeah,” I agree. I flash a smile that only lasts a heartbeat. “It does.”
I can’t handle the awkward tension between us after that, so I launch into a funny story from my childhood about when Jake accidentally hit a street hockey puck so hard it embedded itself in some guy’s Mercedes. After that, we talk and finish dinner, but the silences between our conversations don’t feel comfortable like they always do. They feel oppressive.
When we’re back at the cabin, I set my coat down by the door and rub at my temple. It’s more show than reality. “Ugh,” I say. “I’m getting a pretty nasty headache.”
He looks concerned. “Get comfy on the couch. I’ll grab you some medicine.”
As much as I want the routine where he pampers me to play out like it has a few times already, I shake my head. “It’s okay. I was actually thinking about just crawling into bed. In the guest house,” I add, because I don’t want him to think I’m talking about going to his room together. Every time we sleep together, I get more confused and I get more attached.
After tonight, I feel like I might need to start preparing myself for the end. Because, if I don’t, it’s only going to hurt more when I go.
And how can I not go? He’s going to think I’m some kind of psycho stalker if I turn down an opportunity like Landon is offering to stay here with him. No matter what we’re feeling, it would be crazy to make a decision like that after so little time. People need time, right? It takes time to figure out if you’re right for someone, especially when more than half of the short time we’ve had was spent aggressively pretending we were only fooling around.
My headache suddenly feels very real.
Jesse comes back with a bottle and taps two pills into his palm. I notice he not-so-subtly points the label at me so I can see what he’s offering me. Thoughtful. I smile and take the pills, then he goes and fills up a small glass with water and brings it to me.
“Andi?” he says as I drain the water.
“Yeah?” I ask.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, swallowing and wincing like he’s in pain. “I’m sorry about your head. I hope it’s better in the morning.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
I climb into my bed alone, pull the covers up to my chin, and let out a shuddering breath. I lay there, replaying the night and wondering if there was any magical combination of words I could’ve uttered to keep things from going the way they went. What if I had just been more honest? What if I sat down and told him the job sounded great, but I’ve never been the kind of girl who dreams about a career? I could’ve told him my real dream has always been finding the right person and figuring the rest out once I had that in my pocket.
But I didn’t. I didn’t say it because I was too scared of how he might look at me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and let sleep come, hoping everything will feel more clear in the morning.
37
JESSE
I’ve got to find a way to end things. The Frostival Finale is in two days. Christmas is in three. When we’re in the cabin and around the guys, Andi and I have both formed some kind of unspoken agreement to pretend everything is normal. We smile, we laugh, and we even do the small gestures that normal couples do when they’re freshly in love. A touch on the arm, a hand on the small of my back, and a lingering glance when we think nobody’s looking.
In those moments, I can almost pretend it doesn’t feel like a seismic crack has formed between us. I haven’t slept with her since before our dinner date. We’ve hardly talked in private, except for the few conversations we’ve shared on our drives into town in the mornings to go help my sister.
Mostly, Caroline sets Andi to work and sends me off to run this errand or that.
Today, I’m waiting in a chair by the fire while Caroline explains what Andi needs to tell the fireworks guys. She’s supposed to make some call and confirm details with the pyrotechnic who is driving out for the fireworks show at the finale. A staffing issue turned it into a headache and Caroline is passing the problem on to Andi.
Caroline already served up breakfast for her guests, who mostly make their way into town by this point in the morning.
