Page 22 of 50 Ways to Win Back Your Lover

“If you want to fight, let Jake record me destroying you.” He blocked the doorway with his big body. “That shit will kill it on YouTube.”

“Remind me again how a Neanderthal like you got into law school?”

He curled his lip. “I’m top of my class this year, cockwad.”

Where young Delilah and I shared a love of butt insults, Desmond was all about cock slander.

Ignoring my annoying brother, I kept hold of his cologne—Eternity, by Calvin Klein—and tried to dodge him out the door. I was seventeen and scrawny. Des was a twenty-three-year-old football jock. He caught me easily and launched me onto his bed. Clutching the cologne in a death grip, I bounced once, hard enough to feel something weird and sharp under my shoulder. When I recovered, I stuck my hand under the covers and found a small velvet box.

Desmond was on me in seconds, his knee digging into my ribs, nostrils flaring. “Give it here, cockweasel.”

I knew the leverage I’d discovered. The secret Desmond hadn’t shared with any of us. I could’ve used that velvet box as ransom for the coveted cologne. Shoved the box in my pants and told him to go fishing. But I wasn’t aggressive like Desmond. I was me, and the feel of that soft box—its implications, the joy it would bring, and the nerves visible under Desmond’s posturing—I couldn’t reduce that meaningful box to a pawn.

“Sadie’s gonna be so happy,” I said.

The pressure of Desmond’s knee lifted, the nervous flicker in his eye showing a rare hint of vulnerability. “You think?”

“I mean, I don’t know why. You’re an asshole, but yeah. She’ll go nuts.”

Desmond gave up holding me down, plopped on the bed, and scrubbed his hand down his face. “I think she’ll say yes. Pretty sure, at least. I planned to propose when she was at my place last weekend, but I chickened out. Have no clue why I’m so nervous.”

I thought about why I was stealing his cologne—my plan for that night: Delilah and I sharing our first time together, consummating our love, starting something deeper and binding—as I spun the soft box in my hand. “You don’t have to worry. She’s your albatross.”

“If that’s an insult, you’re gonna eat my fist.”

I opened the box, looked at the small diamond ring inside. Simple and tasteful. Perfect for Sadie. “There’s some darker symbolism about albatrosses, but they also represent freedom, travel, and elegance. And they mate for life. They preen and rattle and bow, do these silly dances to win their partners’ affection. But once they select their mate, that’s it. They separate for times but always come back together. As long as they’re alive, they’re connected.”

Des picked at his cuticles, then shoved my shoulder. “Put the cologne back when you’re done with it. And if you want to set the mood, use the song ‘Pillow Talk,’ by Sylvia Robinson. Delilah will love it, and buy her a sweet treat.”

Sadie never got her engagement ring. I found it in the trash at our orientation Safesite. Took it out and saved it for Desmond, hoping he’d get to use it one day. I still have it in my these-memories-hurt-me-the-most keepsake box.

Unaware our lives were on a collision course with heartbreak, I took the cologne and used Desmond’s advice. Set up our barn with flowers and a blanket and bought the lemon macarons from Haddie’s Diner that Delilah said tasted like sugary clouds.

Nervous for our impending night, I knocked on her door, then talked to her mother about their newest breeding program and how beautiful their roses looked. Around Hayley Moon, the ever-present rocks in my heart ground harder. She was sweet and warm and loved her daughter, but the sadness from losing her husband hung on her like the not-very-good quilts Mom made—squares filled with family memories, roughly sewed together, ripping in spots.

Then Delilah was on their stairs, floating down in jean shorts and a yellow tank top covered in tiny blue flowers, the same bright blue as her eyes.

“Hi,” I said, mesmerized. My constant state around Delilah. My albatross and former nemesis.

She bounded down the last two stairs and kissed her mom’s cheek. “I won’t be late.”

“Have fun, you two,” Hayley Moon called, watching us from the door.

I turned once and waved. Hated the sad shine in Mrs. Moon’s eyes, but I couldn’t focus on those sharp stones in my heart for long. Not when I had Delilah’s hand in mine.

Delilah tugged me along, hugging me from the side as she stuck her face in my neck. “You smell so good.”

Thank you, Calvin Klein, for inventing Eternity.

Grasshoppers jumped around us, wildflowers and tall grasses tickling our legs. A nearby woodpecker tap-tap-tapped to the beat of my pulse. I stopped partway to the barn and touched the black string hanging around Delilah’s neck. “You’re wearing the necklace I made you.”

Blushing, she dragged her fingers down the simple string to the hanging moon-shaped rock. The week prior, I had spotted the rock at the quarry and thought of Delilah right away. I drilled a hole in it at school and hid it in her locker with a note that said, A moon for my moon.

“I’m never going to take it off,” she said, tracing the rock’s curve.

“You’ve only had it a week. I’m sure you’ll get tired of it.”

She flattened her hand over the gift. “I’m sure I’ll be buried with it.”