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“Believe it or not, that’s a good thing. Remember? You and I don’t work.” I tiptoe into the next wire act I need to cross. “And she doesn’t need to be me. She doesn’t need to dress like me, eat the same sandwiches I did, enjoy the same things I did.”
Guilt flashes across his eyes and his gaze lowers to the floor. “I missed those little things, Catherine.”
“Claire is young, impressionable. Let her find herself, don’t force it. Something tells me she’s going to be extra special. Don’t squeeze too hard or she’ll slip away.” I brace for his reaction.
“Is that why you left me? Did I squeeze you too hard? I did everything for you. Still would.”
I shake my head even though it was part of it. “I needed to make my own path, you knew that. I was focused on my career. I had gone as far as I could at the Legendary. Mr. Franklin was never going to pick me over his own son to run the operations. I had to leave.” I skip over the painful nights when the realization hit me that it wasn’t just my career that was stuck. Palmer and I had gone as far as we were ever going to go. He had given it his all, but I knew it wasn’t who he was, who he needed to be. If we stayed together, he would come to resent losing himself to me, a woman who would never be satisfied with a man who would always be concerned with being someone they weren’t.
“Why did you have to leave me? I told you I would follow you. I moved to Mesa to be with you. I would have gone anywhere for you.”
“I had to do it on my own, Palmer. We were already headed for the exit before I decided to move. We had those conversations. So many conversations.”
“And I told you to tell me what you wanted. Whatever it was I would do it. I would be it. All I needed was for you to tell me.”
I cross my arms across my chest, frustration growing. “It was exhausting. I know you tried with everything you had.”
He nods, a sense of pride on his face.
“And that’s how I knew. It wasn’t enough. You had given everything you had, and we were still not working. I didn’t need a puppy dog to follow me around, I needed a partner. One who had their own vision of life, their own goals, and one who could challenge me on occasion. One who could push back when I was being unreasonable not one who agreed with me one hundred percent of the time. One who had their own dreams, their own goals, whose happiness didn’t depend one hundred percent on me.”
“I was being supportive. I wanted you to see that you were my world.”
“I appreciated the support, at times, yes. But sometimes when a woman wakes up at three in the morning and says they have a craving for ice cream, they’re not looking for you to run out, drive twenty miles to find a place open, and then wake them from the dead of sleep at four thirty in the morning with a bowl and a spoon. Sometimes just knowing you’d do it is more than enough.” We both laugh at the memory of Palmer in his worn Arizona Diamondbacks baseball shorts, matching ripped t-shirt, dangling a spoon on the tip of his nose waiting for me to eat. Me not having the heart to tell the man who gave up his sleep to bring me a pint of Haggen Dazs Strawberry, my normal go-to, that I had craved cherry vanilla. Him making assumptions when he raced out the door. Him half hearing me and jumping to a conclusion as to what he thought I needed. Never stopping to ask, rarely making space for me to go out and fulfill my needs on my own.
So, I bit my tongue. I swallowed down two spoonful of ice cream I didn’t want in the darkness of the early morning. Stretching my arms into a big yawn and turning over to fake sleep while Palmer glowered - fake happy. There were too many moments like that.
Palmer and I were the original fake romance. Neither one of us spoke of it like that but I knew in my gut something was off. There was no way I would ever be satisfied living my life like that.
The next day I thanked him again for going for the ice cream and explained to him that I craved a different flavor and that he didn’t need to jump and run every time I expressed an interest in something. But it was like talking to a brick wall. He nodded and then the next time a movie trailer played, and I mentioned that it looked interesting, he’d plan an entire evening centered around the movie from a trailer I no longer recalled. He always got A for enthusiasm but a solid C when it came to execution. And I could never see myself living a C life.
“We’re two different people headed in two different directions. There’s nothing wrong with that Palmer.” My mind races to the Meet Cute book club meeting I’ve just returned from. This month’s selection the brilliant Forget Me Not by QB Tyler. The novel about a separated couple on their way to a divorce. The husband gets in an accident and suffers from amnesia, he remembers only the marriage, the good times, the love. He has no recollection of the pain, the divorce, or any of the heartache. That is what I see when I look at Palmer. He’s still stuck in our relationship from years ago. An endless loop being played in his head from a time long ago.
Me, I’m like the wonderfully written heroine in the novel. I have full recollection; I remember the good times but also the bad times. The breakup and life after him. But this isn’t a romance novel and there’s no happily ever after waiting for Palmer and me.
“People change. Maybe it was just the wrong time. My offer still stands. I’ll move to Indiana. Maybe this was just the wrong place - your hometown.”
My head shake is quick, but my words are clear, “It wasn’t the wrong time. It wasn’t the wrong place. You were the wrong guy.” The fire in his eyes dims as a realization of a message I’ve been sending forever finally sinks in. “I was the wrong girl.”
I place my hand on his knee and he nods. We sit in silence for a beat when the DJ’s booming voice snaps us to attention.
“Let’s keep the requests going. Our next one comes from Claire - will Palmer report to the dance floor.”
We both look up. Palmer rises with the mention of his name. Claire is standing in the center of the dance floor both arms extended in Palmer’s direction. She shoots him a wink and waves for him to join her.
He glances over his shoulder at me as if seeking permission.
Claire looks stunning. She spins with a smile on her face that says I’m having the time of my life, and no one can ruin it. “If you don’t dance with her, I will. She may be the one. Go find out,” I order as Palmer stumbles away. Hopefully it is the last order I will ever ask him to complete.
Claire raises one hand to the sky and whips her head side to side as I recognize the song. “We Do Us” by Ryan Hurd. A declaration by Claire that she understands what is going on and she’s letting the world know she’s nobody’s robot. What she wants from Palmer is for him to see her for her. For them to create their own path.
I may have underestimated Claire. She’s going to be just fine.
Lost in a joy for Palmer I no longer thought I was capable of feeling, the smile stays plastered on my face as Hunter slips his arm around my shoulder. I reach up and slip my hand into his.
“That was amazing Catherine. I don’t know what you said, but it was evident from even across the room that you have a kind heart and somehow found a way to get through to him.”
My gaze remains on Claire and Palmer dancing. About a dozen other couples join them. I place a ghost kiss on the back of Hunter’s hand and rise from the chair. He pulls me tight and lowers his head onto my shoulder, the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck. He nibbles on the tip of my earlobe and whispers, “As soon as this is over, I’m taking you someplace quiet so we can do us too.”
It’s nice to have a man willing to do what you ask, but it feels a lot better when they already know.
