Page 27 of Curveball

I wanted to fucking puke.

Was I really that stupid? Did I imagine Christmas Eve and what I’d felt developing between us this last month? Did I make the whole thing up in my head?

God, I was so stupid.

Walker was just being a nice guy, a friend to me when I was sad about fighting with my boyfriend. Nothing more, nothing less. We were just friends. Yet here I was, ready to blow up my engagement to a man who actually loved me, all for a fantasy I’d created in my head. I really was pathetic.

The heartache didn't lessen over the next several weeks; it only intensified as photo after photo of Walker took up my social media feeds, each with a new stunning woman latched onto his arm, walking in and out of clubs, hotels, and bars. I couldn't seem to escape the photos of him with countless women and their tongues down his throat. And what was even more fucked up? I couldn't stop looking at the pictures—comparing myself in every way. The insecurities I’d struggled with in the past began rearing their ugly head again. My boobs weren't big enough, my ass was too flat, I didn't have curves, my build was too athletic, and not feminine enough.

At least those were the things I told myself. It was what I saw.

Jake and I were still engaged, but the guilt of having planned to end the engagement was eating away at me. I knew I needed to talk to him. Things were a lot better between us, but I chose to ignore that it likely had to do with my focus being solely on him and not Walker anymore. I wanted to start fresh and be completely honest with him. Come clean about my momentary lapse of judgment.

After we ate the dinner I made, I poured us each another glass of wine to give myself a little more liquid courage. "There’s something I need to talk to you about."

Jake took a sip of wine and nodded. "Sure, what's up?"

I proceeded to tell him everything that had happened over Christmas Eve and the weeks that followed. The feelings I’d had for Walker, how I’d felt about the proposal, and what I’d been planning to do. All of it. By the time I was done, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. But when I saw the hurt in Jake’s eyes, the relief faded fast, replaced with guilt.

I placed my hand over his. "I'm really sorry, Jake, but I want to be honest with you. I completely understand if you want to call off the engagement—but I do love you, so just know that."

Jake remained quiet, processing the bomb I just dropped on him. After several moments, he cleared his throat. "I appreciate you being honest with me, and I'm sorry for how I proposed. After looking back on it, I realized I thought more about me in that moment and not about what you would have wanted."

I stayed silent. I could tell he wasn't finished.

"And about Walker…” he began. I winced, bracing for impact.

“I'm not stupid, Farrah. I've known for a while that you still have feelings for the guy. I just hoped, after so many years with me, that they would disappear, but clearly, I was wrong. I love you, but I'm not sure where to go from here." He glanced down at our hands.

"I convinced myself feelings were still there because of everything you and I were going through at the time. I let the nostalgia and the familiarity get the better of me. I'm not saying that as an excuse, or that it makes what I did okay, but this, " I gestured between him and me, “this is real life. Can we start over?"

Jake was a great guy. He loved me, he took care of me, and we had fun together. He was successful, steady, and had been my constant for the last three years. I was stupid and irresponsible to let one night fueled by alcohol cloud my judgment and my feelings towards this man in front of me. Jake had shown up for me day after day, and wanted to build a life with me. Walker had always been about himself and his career, as evidenced by his current playboy streak.

Walker was my past; Jake was my future.

I wouldn't make that mistake again.

It took several long months and a lot of deep conversation, but Jake and I made our way back to each other and were on solid ground. We never ended the engagement; instead, we started over, and I worked to earn his trust back. We were better than we’d ever been, and I was truly excited and looking forward to marrying him. He even redid his proposal by taking me out to an evening picnic underneath the stars in the hills; it was everything I had wanted.

As for Walker, based on what I saw in the media, he was still fucking his way through every city with a major league baseball team, which was fine by me. He could live his life how he wanted. I heard from my parents that he’d bought a house on several acres in Primrose Hill, not too far from his parents' property, which made avoiding him a little more difficult. I hadn't seen or spoken to him since before he’d left for spring training, and that was for the best. Out of respect for Jake, I made sure to stay far away whenever I knew Walker was in town—luckily for me, my siblings always knew his whereabouts through their connection with the James siblings.

My life was finally getting back on track.

Chapter 14

Walker

Present Day

"Dad, where do you want this?" I called over my shoulder. I was out at the vineyard, helping my dad move boxes of wine he needed to ship out by the end of the month. My elbow was feeling stronger every day, thanks to Dr. Howard, and he’d cleared me to begin lifting weights, or in this case, boxes of wine bottles. After the ass kicking… er… talk I received from Addison, I’d cut back on my drinking and begun working out regularly again. It was amazing what more exercise, less alcohol, and staying off social media could do for someone’s mental health. Dr. Howard said I was still probably about a month or two away from starting to throw again, but he was happy with my progress.

"Just stack them over here in this corner. Thanks, son." I stacked the rest of the boxes where my dad had asked, then turned to face him.

"What else can I help you with?" I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans.

"I think that's good for tonight. Let's go grab a glass of my new cabernet blend I want you to try," My dad gestured for me to follow him to the winery. Once inside, we settled onto the stools that lined the rustic wooden bar. He poured me a glass and slid it in front of me. I swirled the deep plum liquid around the glass before bringing it to my nose and then taking a long pull. I let the explosion of blackberry, chocolate, and a hint of spice linger on my tongue before swallowing.

"Damn, Dad. You did it again." I sometimes forgot how talented a winemaker he was.