Page 33 of Last Slice of Pie

If and when I needed to blow off steam, I relieved the buildup by hitting the field, the weight room, or the track as hard as I could until everything in me was depleted. Then, to relax, I would find myself on my couch, laptop in hand, watching game film. My main reasoning—wanting to be the best—has never changed, and it’s always remained a core part of my makeup. Nothing and no one was going to deter me.

Having these thoughts and having her back in my arms makes me wonder if she ever filled my spot with someone else. Once James mentioned her dating a guy while she was in culinary school. I think it was for a while, too, but James didn’t seem to think it was that serious. Other than that, he didn’t mention anyone else over the years, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t any. Maybe she just didn’t tell him about it. She’s beautiful and kind, and I can’t imagine why guys aren’t lining up to be with her. The thought makes my heart ache, but then again, I did this. I left her and never looked back.

Slowly, with much regret, I slide out from underneath her, and she curls into the spot where I was. Leaving her here is breaking my heart, but I have to go.

The stairs groan under my weight as I make my way down them. I gather my things from around the house and walk into the kitchen. It’s here I realize, along with the subtle changes she’s made to the home over the years that fit her perfectly, deep down, I long for this to be mine too—this home, her, all of it.

I open the refrigerator, and bright light fills the room. I stare at the lone piece of pie that sits front and center on the pale yellow plate. It looks like a slice of leftover chocolate pecan pie, and my mouth waters. Pulling it out, I don’t hesitate as I eat it and then set the plate in the sink.

Moving through the kitchen, I bump her laptop, which is sitting on the island, and the screen saver pops on, Firefly Kitchen sitting right in the middle. I can’t help but stare at the little illuminated fireflies strategically placed around the logo, each one glowing brightly. I always knew she loved fireflies, but seeing this makes my chest burn. I rub the spot over my heart, and as much as I wish I could stay, I know it’s time to go. Next to the laptop is a notepad and a pen, so I jot down a quick message then walk out the door. The feelings coursing through me are not the ones I expected upon returning to this place—feelings of wanting to stay.

Overnight Breakfast Pie

BRYAN KISSED ME.

For days now, I have repeated this to myself, not because I’m afraid I’ll forget, but because I find it hard to believe. I’ve wondered just about my whole life what kissing him again would feel like, and it was nothing like I remembered. My lips are constantly tingling and his taste is unforgettable, but mostly this time, it just felt right. So right.

Of course back then, I was over the moon, and years later I’ve concluded it was a pity kiss, one I practically begged for the night of our senior prom, something I’ve spent reliving in my mind over and over again regardless.

That night, anger and disappointment coursed through me as I got out of James’s car and slammed the door. Even though we didn’t discuss it directly, Bryan knew I wanted to go to prom with him. I even accepted that he hadn’t asked me because he didn’t ask anyone else either. I just assumed since we were riding with James and Marie, ultimately we’d be together. He knew I had been looking forward to it, and he also knew I had turned down several guys who had approached me. I just wanted to go with him when really I never should have gone at all. Talk about humiliating. I showed up with the three of them, and then the minute we walked through the door, it was as if I was forgotten. For two hours, I watched him dance with girl after girl, and after seeing enough, I told James I had a stomachache and needed to go. He handed me his keys.

Walking up the front steps to the house, I let out a deep sigh as I decided to head back to the old oak tree to sit on the swing. The boards groaned as I walked around the veranda, and my heels clicked against the wood. I leaned against the railing and slipped off my shoes. I didn’t care if my feet got dirty; I just didn’t want GiGi to know I was home already. She had worked so hard on making my dress and helping me get ready, and I didn’t feel like answering her questions as to why I wasn’t still there.

The fabric of my dress was so light and so soft, and I ran my hands over the skirt to attempt to soothe my bruised heart. I had seen a dress I loved in a magazine, and GiGi had insisted she could make it. My dress was one of a kind, and I was so proud. She ordered in yards and yards of the most beautiful sea foam fabric I had ever seen. We picked the color because it matched my eyes, and we thought it would complement my skin tone the best. The dress was strapless with a sweetheart top, and it was tightfitting to the waist. She hand-sewed tiny crystals and pearl beads into a beautiful intricate pattern across the bodice, there was a wide sash at the waist that tied in the back, and the skirt was layer after layer of this beautiful organza fabric that fell to the floor. We were right—no one had a dress like mine. I felt beautiful, almost like a princess . . . it was just too bad there wasn’t a prince.

I remember the moon being high and full, and as I approached the tree, I held up my hand to hold it in my palm. Movement to my right had me gasping and jumping.

“And if you are to love, love like the moon loves. It doesn’t steal the night, it only unveils the beauty of the dark.”

“What?” I asked, stunned to see him walking toward me.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he moved closer to stand beside me and looked up at the moon.

“I read that quote once. It was by someone named Isra, and I thought it was nice.”

It was nice, and the moon was definitely loving him in the dark that night. Bathed in the pale light, his skin looked like it glowed, and every angle of his face was highlighted.

“What are you doing here?” I took a step back.

“I saw you leave.” He looked back at me.

“So?” I shook my head. “There was no reason for me to be there any longer.”

He tilted his head to the side, watching me, frowning. The swing behind us creaked as it moved in the breeze.

My heart ached with a mixture of disappointment and anger. I had wanted to give him a piece of my mind. I’d never asked him for anything, and although he owed me nothing, I couldn’t understand why this one time he couldn’t have done something for me. Years and years I’d sat on the sidelines, figuratively and literally. I’d always been there for him, and I knew he knew it.

Letting out a deep sigh, he pulled his hands from his pockets and started walking toward the swing. “Come sit with me.”

Following behind, I watched as he sat near the middle and bent over so his elbows rested on his knees. He clasped his hands together, and I sat on the edge, as far away as I could get.

Silence surrounded us as he began to rock us with his shiny black shoes. Back and forth, heel to toe, he pushed, not once looking over at me. I didn’t know why he was there, why he wasn’t talking, but then again, he never spoke much.

Trailing my eyes up from his feet, I admired the way his tuxedo pants hugged his thighs and the coat stretched across his back. White cuffs stuck out from under the sleeves and were adorned with silver football cufflinks, a sentimental gift GiGi had given both him and my brother. On the inside, I almost smiled at them, but the sight of him as a whole was too much. He was too much.

Everyone has the moment—you know, the one when you know you’re never going to get what you want—and I realized this was mine. I’d always understood that Bryan wanted great things for himself and I wanted those things for him too, but I was never going to be a part of it.

Minutes passed, and my heart broke even more as I finally understood why he kept me close but also pushed me away. He had to choose, and he wasn’t choosing me. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I refused to be that girl. Instead, I just basked in his presence as he stared at the ground with his hair falling across his forehead. He continued to rock us back and forth.