Hope Over Fear (Over #1) (23 page)

“Oh, please Sara, I’d never try to stop any of you from dating each other. It’s hard enough to find love without people placing rules and restrictions in the way. I care about both of you, and I’m happy if the two of you are happy.”

I breathe a huge sigh of relief, and Celia laughs at my response.

“Caroline is a matchmaker at heart, Sara. I knew she’d be over the moon to hear about the two of you. Quite frankly, I’m glad that my fat’s out of the fire for a little while!”

“Make no mistake, girl, your fat is firmly placed in the fire. This changes nothing. They’ve done the heavy lifting for me already by finding each other. I still have more than enough time to devote to you, my dear.” Caroline smiles lovingly and Celia lowers her head and groans.

“I take it this is an ongoing argument between you two?” I glance back and forth between them for confirmation.

“Celia has decided at the ripe old age of twenty-four to give up on love and live a solitary existence. I, on the other hand, have decided that she is out of her mind.” Caroline exacts her stern gaze at Celia, and even I cringe.

“I have not given up on love, Caroline. I’ve had the love of my life already, just like you. Lucas was it for me. That part of my life is done.”

“Yes, my husband of thirty years died of a heart attack. He was, without a doubt, the love of my life. He left me too soon, but he left me with a lifetime of memories and a beautiful son. My darling girl, you’ve probably got fifty or more years left on this earth, and I refuse to believe that you’re meant to live it alone.”

“And on that point, we can agree to disagree,” Celia states with a tone of finality as she opens her napkin and lays it in her lap. She meets Caroline’s stare and doesn’t give an inch. Caroline abruptly shifts her gaze to me, and I shrink a bit in my chair under the scrutiny.

“You know, people have setbacks in their lives … it’s part of the ride. People are made to endure the unthinkable, and do you know what they do?” Caroline’s eyes swing back to Celia before answering. “With the help of friends and family, they get back up and start over. Sara is in the process of starting over as we speak. She didn’t give up.”

“Well, what happened with me can’t be compared at all to Celia. It’s an entirely different situation—”

“Did you lose someone?” Caroline questions as she leans in curiously.

“Well, I guess I did. But it’s different because I played a part in that. It was my decision,” I argue.

“Okay, enough of the cryptic stuff, Sara. Spill it, girl!” Celia prompts.

I sit quietly and try to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Celia, or to anyone but me for that matter. As I finger the napkin in my lap nervously, I feel Caroline’s hand gently squeeze my forearm. I look up, and she smiles at me reassuringly.

“We’ve backed you into a corner, haven’t we? That wasn’t our intention, and I’m sorry. With that being said, if you want to talk about it, we’re here for you.”

Do I want to tell them what happened? I’ve never defended myself before, so why in the hell start now? But if I’m being honest, this doesn’t feel like defending myself. Before I say a word, I know that Caroline and Celia are already on my side. I trust them to hear me without judgment. And because of that, I start talking.

“Mason was my best friend in college …”

“If I Loved You” by Delta Rae

“Already Gone” by Kelly Clarkson

A year and a half ago—Dallas, TX

I SILENCE MY ringing phone for the third time and rub the palms of my hands over my burning eyes. I know I have to answer. I know this. Having to reconcile loving someone and tearing his heart to pieces is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. No matter how much I protest, Mason is planning to come to Dallas on Friday for a “very special weekend.” I’m fairly certain there is a proposal in my near future, and that serves as the wakeup call I need. I can’t bury my head in the sand any longer. This has to stop.

When my phone stops ringing, I toy with the idea of calling Jared for my daily pep talk. Every day he tells me I can do this—that I need to do this. And I try, I really do. I tell Mason our relationship isn’t working. That he deserves more love than I am capable of giving him. Time after time, Mason uses logic to shut down my objections. I call him over and over again with the intention of setting him free, and each time I hang up more tied to him than I was before.

It’s ironic that Jared is the person helping me through this difficult time. Jared, fondly referred to as “Two-Pump Chump” by Marlo, was my first college boyfriend. We dated freshman year, and my first time was with him. At the time I had nothing to compare the experience to, but I figured it was a bad sign that the song on the radio didn’t even have time to change before it was over. Awkward and humiliating are the adjectives to best describe my first romp, so maybe it’s a good thing that Jared was a one-minute man. The worst part was that he broke up with me the next week with a lame excuse about needing space.

I ran into Jared my first week in Dallas while shopping at Central Grocery. I averted my eyes and tried to push my grocery cart against traffic to avoid him, but he had a different plan in mind. He seemed genuinely happy to see me and asked if I had a few minutes to grab coffee with him. Um, no thanks, jerkface! After a fair amount of groveling, I agreed to give him ten minutes in the coffee shop attached to the grocery store, and I’m so thankful I did.

It’s entirely possible, even probable, for two people to share an experience together and come away with a completely different idea of what actually happened. Who we are, the way we were raised, the experiences we’ve encountered all play a central part in how we perceive the world around us.

In that grocery store coffee shop, I learned that Jared wasn’t at all what he seemed. After several stops and starts and an inordinate amount of hand wringing, Jared admitted that he owed me an apology for the way he acted all those years ago. More importantly, he confessed to me why he dumped me, never to be heard from again. It turns out that it had nothing to do with me or needing space. It had everything to do with the rather significant fact that Jared is gay. He told me that he always knew he was different, but he spent a good part of his teens and early twenties denying his feelings and embracing his “fire and brimstone,” Bible-belt upbringing. At the time, it seemed simpler for him to date girls than explain why he wasn’t to his Southern Baptist parents.

It became clear to me that Jared was struggling. Still firmly in the proverbial closet, he’d yet to tell his parents he was gay, and he looked close to hurling as he told me. I reached across the table to hold his hand, hoping to provide some small form of comfort. He deserved that from me—from everyone. Did I inadvertently become part of Jared’s collateral damage? Yeah, I guess I did, but a wrong that seemed so important to me minutes ago miraculously melted away. And in it’s place, a friendship began to take shape.

Over the following months, Jared and I have spent a great deal of time together. Yes, we spend a lot of time talking about my predicament with Mason and his need to be honest with his family and friends. But we also have a great time together. Whether we are going to concerts at Billy Bob’s, feeding giraffes at Fossil Rim (my personal favorite), or gorging on fantastic Mexican food, we enjoy each other’s company and are grateful for the opportunity to just be ourselves. No pretenses allowed; that’s the only hard and fast rule of our friendship. Finding the balls to be honest with the people we love isn’t really a rule, but it is a very strong suggestion.

Now the day has finally come for me to grow a pair, although I don’t think I can consider it “growing a pair” since I’ve allowed myself to be backed into a corner. That’s the textbook definition of running out of options. With that in mind, I reluctantly pick up the phone and dial the number that has been calling me all morning.

“Babe. Where ya been? I was getting worried.”

“Please don’t worry about me, Mason. Look we need to talk—”

“We can talk all you want this weekend, Sara. Although, talking isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” The innuendo in his voice is clear.

“That’s what I need to talk to you about. This weekend can’t happen. I need you to listen to me and actually hear what I’m saying.” I pause for effect and to ensure I have his full attention. “This is not working, Mason. I can’t give you what you deserve—”

“Not this again, Sara. You are exactly what I deserve. You’re exactly what I want, what I’ve always wanted. I need
you
to listen to
me—
”

“Stop, Mason, just stop! I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep telling you how I feel and have you dismiss me. This has to be over; I need for it to be over.” I wince as I hear the whine in my voice. I feel like a petulant child, but I’ve grown tired of saying the same thing over and over again. “I hope one day you can forgive me for this. I hope one day to get my best friend back, because it fucking hurts like hell to think of not talking to you every day. But we aren’t meant to be together. I know this, and I hope one day you realize that I have your best interest at heart.”

“Wait, Sara, please don’t do this.” I hear the desperation in Mason’s tone, and it nearly unravels me. “The distance is playing tricks on you, babe. Just let me get to you, and I know we can work this out—”

“No, Mason. I’m sorry to hurt you this way. I wish to God that I didn’t have to do this. Goodbye.”

With those parting words, I press END and quickly make another call.

“Sara Smile, what’s up?” I hear Jared’s smile in his voice.

“I did it,” I say, just as a sob escapes my lips.

“I’m coming.”

I end the call with Jared and then promptly turn off my phone. I stare into space and wait for the sense of freedom to roll over me, but it doesn’t happen. How can it when my freedom is intimately intertwined with hurting Mason? Robotically, I unfold my legs, lay my head on the couch arm, and count ceiling tiles while I wait for Jared.

I open the door to find Jared holding a bottle of vodka, cranberry juice, and a bag of limes. I don’t know if there is an official drink reserved for breaking your best friend’s heart, but I guess vodka and cranberry will do the trick.

“Before we start toasting your courage, I need you to hand over your phone and computer. No drunk dialing, texting, or emailing will occur tonight to undo the progress that you’ve made, my friend. It’s evident with one look at you that you’re teetering on the edge even before the drinks,” Jared accuses. I can only look at him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You know this shit, but I feel the need to say it anyway. If you had done this a year ago, Mason would have been hurt. No doubt about that. But every day since then you let him believe he had a chance at forever with you, so that hurt has compounded. You go back again, and you add more hurt to his sentence. Let that boy lick his wounds and move on, and you do the same. Yeah?” Jared pushes my chin up with his finger and gives me a supportive smile.

“Yeah,” I sigh. I know he’s right, but that doesn’t take away the overpowering guilt.

“So, are we doing cranberry with a splash of vodka, or vodka with a splash of cranberry?”

I chuckle softly under my breath. “What do you think?