“I came back. Maybe Ian will, too.” And she sounded so hopeful on my behalf that I felt the urge to comforther.
“That’s different,” I said gently. “You have history. You grew up here. You stayed for all the right reasons.”
“Youcould be the right reason,” Candace argued.
I looked down at my lap and frowned. My nails were still painted silver to match my dress.
“Ian’s never been stuck behind a tractor driving down Haywood Road. He doesn’t know what fresh apple juice tastes like right off the press. He’snever watched the sun set from the top of Juniper Point or swam in Lake Archer until his shoulders were sunburnt.”
Releasing a shaky breath, I added, “He doesn’t belong here. His life is bigger than all this. He’d just be tied down.”
I watched through blurry, watery eyes as Candace took my hand in hers.
My voice was rough when it emerged again, and I hated feeling weak. “I tried, you know. I went to California with an open mind. I gave it a chance.” I’d made myself vulnerable, painted a target on my back. “And it wasn’t the fans or the cameras or the attention or even his shitty manager. I tried to be a part of his life there. I made an effort to understand it. And in the end, it comes down to me not being who Ian needs.”
“Joanie,” my sister admonished sadly.
“It’s not just my age or my background. I know that. But I’m set in my ways. I’m bad at first impressions. Ian is always having dinner or drinks or taking a meeting with someone new. That’s just part of his life. I don’t know how to facilitate connections or network or charm. Making small talk is like pulling teeth for someone like me. I’m grouchy and judgmental. And I like things a certain way. Ian needs someone flexible. Someone who knows the industry, or at least, understands it.”
The hand holding mine squeezed gently. “You think you’re this rigid person, but you’re not. Maybe you used to be. But you’ve softened for me and for George. Ian, too. You text people now, instead of ignoring their calls. You threw me a bachelorette party with line dancing. You blew off an afternoon of work just so you could take a little boy fishing for the first time.”
I smiled at the memory before my chin wobbled.
“You might think you’re the same hard-ass Joan you’ve always been, but that’s just not true. And before you argue, it’s not changing yourself for a man. It’s growing and evolving and shifting your priorities. It’s making space for people in a life that used to be all straight lines and sharp edges.”
That was maybe the worst part of all. I knew I’d changed. I knew that Candace was right.
I wasn’t the same person I’d been when my sister had moved home almost two years ago. I’d worked hard to be more open—more trusting and vulnerable with my family. I’d convinced myself I could afford to let in only the people who mattered—my parents, my siblings, the friends who I’d grown closer to in the last few years.
But Ian and George had slipped past my defenses. I’d been so opposed to everything about the movie until it stared me in the face. And now it was all over.
I felt lost.
There were the changes that Candace could see, but there was more.
I didn’t know how to explain to my sister what it was like to love Ian. The way his sweet affection had altered my very makeup, rearranged my heart. His patience and kindness, his attention, how he’d happily hold my hand in public, in private, for the rest of our lives, and probably even buried together, six feet in the grave.
There was no flowery way to describe it. No clichés to do it justice. I’d read plenty of romance novels that made comparisons or gave helpful metaphors for falling in love. For me, it wasn’t at all like wandering in a desert and having my thirst quenched. Ian’s touch didn’t heal something broken in me. It wasn’t as simple as feeling my cold, dead heart beat to new, radiant life.
To me, it was more like our cat growing up, Dolly. It was the way my mother, before Candace was born, had coaxed an old barn cat into trusting her. The endless patience and the minimal reward. How she’d sat outside on the porch for hours, a warm presence next to a skittish creature who’d never been inclined to trust. The way Mom had hand delivered food over months of effort, and Dolly’s transition from something feral to nearly tolerant and, finally, doting.
That cat went from an unbothered, self-sufficient lioness to a contented house cat. She sat on the back of my father’s recliner for twelve years. There was no wild left in her, and she hadn’t even been mad about it. Dolly became an exclusively indoor pet with no desire for her past life.
Thatwas what it felt like inside of me.
Ian had won me over, slowly but surely. He’d charmed and coaxed me despite my snarling and spitting. He’d met my distrust with patience and good humor. He made me feel safe and warm and content, and now I was incapable of returning to the way things had been before.
I still wanted the affection and the sweetness he’d promised when he’d tamed something wild in me—something fierce and biting.
I was as predictable as an old barn cat.
Maybe that was a silly way to say you knew what love was. But more accurately, it was how I’d been changed by finding it.
The same way that damn cat no longer remembered its instinct, I didn’t know how to go back to before. How to survive without Ian’s affection, his heart. His smile. His hand wrapped around mine.
And when I thought about trying to say goodbye to George ...
“I realize there are a lot of complications,” Candace said. “And that’s not ideal. But life isn’t simple. It never is. Love and relationships take compromise and hard work. But if the love is there, that’s step one. You have to let yourself be vulnerable enough to fall, and trust the other person to catch you.”
