November 9: A Novel (22 page)

She’s next to a car, fumbling around in her purse. By the time she retrieves her keys, I’m standing next to her. I yank the keys out of her hands and walk toward my car, which is parked right next to hers.

“Ben!” she yells. “Give me my keys!”

I unlock my car and crank it. I roll down the windows and then move to the backseat and strap Oliver in his car seat. When I’m positive he’s still asleep, I walk back to her car.

“You can’t leave hating me,” I say, putting the keys back in her hand. “Not after everything we’ve been—”

“I don’t
hate
you, Ben,” she interjects. Her voice is offended and there are still tears streaming down her cheeks. “This was part of the deal, wasn’t it?” She wipes at her eyes, almost angrily, and then she continues. “We live our lives. We date other people. We fall in love with our dead brother’s wives. And in the end, we see what happens. Well, we’ve reached the end, Ben. A little early, but it’s
definitely
the end.”

I look past her, too ashamed to make eye contact with her. “We still have two more years, Fallon. We don’t have to end it today.”

She shakes her head. “I know I promised, but . . . I can’t. There’s no way in hell I’m putting myself through this again. You have no idea what this feels like,” she says, holding her hand to her chest.

“Actually, Fallon. I know
exactly
what it feels like.”

I peg her with my stare, wanting her to see that I’m not taking all the blame for this. If she wouldn’t have walked away last year and completely devastated me, I wouldn’t have spent the majority of the year resenting her. I would have never put myself in a position with anyone—much less Jordyn—to risk what I could have had with Fallon. But I thought Fallon only felt a fraction of what I felt for her.

She has no idea how heartbroken she left me. She has no idea that Jordyn was there for me when she wasn’t. I was there for Jordyn when Kyle wasn’t. And after losing two people we both loved, only later to be united with Oliver . . . it wasn’t something we planned. I’m not even sure I wanted it. But it happened, and now I’m the only father Oliver knows. And why does it all feel so wrong now? Why does it feel like I somehow fucked up my life even more?

Fallon pushes around me to try and open the door to her car. And that’s when it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t know why it took me this long to notice. I grab her hand and squeeze it before she opens the door. The quiet plea forces her to pause and look up at me.

I look at her car for a beat and then back at her. “Why did you drive here today?”

Confusion clouds her expression. She shakes her head, “That was our agreement. It’s November 9th.”

I squeeze her hand even harder. “Exactly. You usually come straight from the airport when we meet. Why are you in a car and not a cab?”

She stares up at me, defeat consuming her eyes. She expels a quick breath and looks at the ground. “I moved back,” she says with a shrug. “Surprise.”

Her words impale my chest, and I wince. “When?”

“Last month.”

I lean against her car and bury my face in the palms of my hands, trying to keep it together. I came here today, hoping for clarity. Hoping that seeing Fallon would stop the war that’s been raging inside of me since things started up with Jordyn.

And clarity is exactly what I’m getting. Since the second I walked into the restaurant and laid eyes on her, that feeling was back in my chest. The one I’ve never felt with any other girl. The feeling that makes me so terrified, I think my heart is about to burst right out of me.

I’ve never had that feeling with anyone but Fallon, but I still don’t know if that’s enough to make a difference. Because Fallon was right when she said it isn’t about what
I
want. It’s about what’s better for Oliver. But even that doesn’t seem like sound logic when I’m standing right in front of the only girl who has ever made me feel this way.

Now that Oliver is sound asleep in the car next to us and no longer in my arms, I pull Fallon to me. I wrap my arms around her desperately, needing to feel her against me. I close my eyes and try to think of words that will fix this, but the only words that come are all the things I shouldn’t say. “How did we let this happen?”

I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that I’m being unfair to Jordyn. But Jordyn is also being unfair to me, because she’ll never love me like she loved Kyle. And she has to know that I’ll never feel about her the way I feel for Fallon.

Fallon tries to pull away, but I hold her tight. “Wait. Please just answer one question.”

She relents and stays wrapped in my arms.

“Did you move back to L.A. for me? For us?”

As soon as I ask the question, I can feel her deflate. I can feel my heart tumbling down the walls of my chest. Her lack of denial forces me to squeeze her tighter. “Fallon,” I whisper. “
God
, Fallon.” I lift her chin and force her to look up at me. “Do you love me?”

Her eyes grow wide with fear, as if she has no clue what the answer to that question is. Or maybe the question scares her because she knows exactly how she feels about me, but she wishes she didn’t feel that way. I ask her again. I plead with her this time. “
Please
. I can’t make this decision until I know that I’m not alone in how I feel about you.”

She looks me pointedly in the eyes with an adamant shake of her head. “I’m not about to compete with a woman who is raising a child on her own, Ben. I won’t be the one who took you from her when she’s already been through too much. So don’t worry, you don’t have to make any decisions. I just made it for you.”

She tries to push past me, but I grab her face and try to plead with her. I can see the resolve in her eyes before I even speak. “Please,” I whisper. “Not again. We can’t make it through this if you walk away again.”

She looks up at me, vexed. “You didn’t give me a choice this time, Ben. You showed up in love with someone else. You share another woman’s bed. Your hands touch someone who isn’t me. Your lips make promises against skin that isn’t mine. And no matter who is at fault for that, whether it’s mine for walking away last year or yours for not knowing I did it for your own good, none of it changes things. It is what it is.” She slips from my grasp and opens her car door, looking up at me through damp lashes. “They’re lucky to have you. You’re a really great father to him, Ben.” She gets in her car, completely unaware that she’s about to pull away with my heart. I stand here, frozen, unable to stop her. Unable to speak. Unable to plead. Because I know there’s nothing I could say that would change things. Not today, anyway. Not until I make things right in all the other areas of my life.

She rolls down her window, wiping another tear from her cheek. “I won’t be back next year. I’m sorry if this ruined your book, that’s the last thing I wanted. But I just can’t do this anymore.”

She can’t give up for good. I grip the door of her car and lean in to the open window. “
Fuck
the book, Fallon. It was never about the book. It was about you, it always was.”

She stares at me, silent. And then she rolls up her window and pulls away, never once slowing down as I pound on the back of her car, chasing her until I can’t anymore.

“Shit!” I yell, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet. I kick it again, stirring up dust. “Goddammit!”

How am I supposed to go back to Jordyn now when I no longer have a heart to give her?

9
th

Previously, when I would think about events in my life, I would organize those events chronologically in my mind as
before the fire
and
after the fire
.

I don’t do that anymore. Not because I’ve grown as a person. Quite the opposite, actually, because now I think about my life in terms of
before Benton James Kessler
and
after Benton James Kessler.

Pathetic, I know. And even more so because it’s been exactly a year since we went our separate ways and I still think about him just as much as I did before
after Benton James Kessler
. But it’s not so easy to rid my thoughts of someone who had such an impact on my life.

I don’t wish ill on him. I never have. Especially after seeing how torn he was with his decision when we parted ways last year. I’m sure if I cried and begged him to choose me, he would have. But I would never want to be with anyone because I had to beg. I don’t even want to be with anyone if there’s even a remote possibility that there’s a third party at play. Love should be between two people, and if it isn’t, I’d rather bow out than take part in the race.

I’m not one to believe things happen for a reason, so I refuse to believe it was our fate not to end up together. If I believed that, then I’d have to believe it was fate for Kyle to die at such a young age. I’d much rather believe shit just happens.

Injured in a fire?
Shit happens.

Lost your career?
Shit happens.

Lost the love of your life to a widow with an infant?
Shit happens.

The last thing I want to believe is that my fate has already been mapped out for me and I get no say in where or who I end up with. But if that’s the case and my life will turn out the same in the end¸ no matter what choices I make, then why does it matter if I leave my apartment tonight?

It doesn’t. But Amber seems to think it’s a big deal.

“You can’t stay here and mope,” she says, plopping down on the couch next to me.

“I’m not moping.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“Then why won’t you come out with us?”

“I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Then call Teddy.”

“Theodore,” I correct.

“You know I can’t call him Theodore with a straight face. That name should be reserved for members of the royal family.”

I wish she would get past his name. I’ve been out with him several times now and she still brings it up every time. She can see the irritation on my face, so she continues to defend herself.

“He wears pants with tiny, embroidered
whales
on them, Fallon. And the two times I’ve gone out with you guys, all he does is tell stories about being raised in Nantucket. But no one in Nantucket talks like a surfer, I can promise you that.”

She’s right. He talks about Nantucket like everyone should be jealous he’s from there. But besides that small quirk and his pretentious choice in pants, he’s one of the only guys I’ve been around that can take my mind off Ben for more than an hour.

“If you hate him as much as you seem to, why are you insisting I invite him out with us tonight?”

“I don’t hate him,” Amber says. “I just don’t like him. And I’d rather you come tonight with him than sit here and mope about how it’s November 9th and you aren’t spending it with Ben.”

“That’s not why I’m moping,” I lie.

“Maybe not, but at least we can both agree that you
are
moping.” She picks up my phone. “I’m texting Teddy to tell him to meet us at the club.”

“That’s going to be awkward for you and Glenn, considering I won’t even be there.”

“Hogwash. Get dressed. Wear something cute.”

• • •

She always wins. I’m here . . . at the club. Not at home, moping on my couch where I wish I could be.

And why did Theodore have to wear the pants with whales on them again? That just makes Amber the winner
and
right.

“Theodore,” Amber says, fingering the rim of her almost-empty drink. “Do you have a nickname or does everyone just call you Theodore?”

“Just Theodore,” he says. “My father is referred to as Teddy, so the nickname gets confusing if we both use it. Especially when we’re back in Nantucket around family.”

“Riveting,” she says, dragging her eyes over to me. “Want to walk to the bar with me?”

I nod and scoot out of the booth. As we make our way to the bar, Amber threads her fingers through mine and squeezes. “Please tell me you haven’t had sex with him.”

“We’ve only been out four times,” I tell her. “I’m not that easy.”

“You had sex with Ben on the third date,” she says in retort.

I hate that she brought up Ben, but I guess when you’re discussing your sex life, the only guy you’ve ever slept with is surely going to be part of the conversation.

“Maybe so, but that was different. We knew each other a lot longer than that.”

“You knew each other for three days,” she says. “You can’t count entire years when you only interacted once a year.”

We reach the bar. “Change of subject,” I say. “What do you want to drink?”

“Depends,” she says. “Are we drinking because we want to remember this night forever? Or because we want to forget the past?”

“Definitely forget.”

Amber turns to the bartender and orders four shots. When he puts them in front of us, we hold up the first shot and clink our glasses together.

“To waking up on November 10th and having no memory of the 9th,” she says.

“Cheers to that.”

We down the shots and then immediately follow those up with the next two. I don’t usually drink a lot, but I’ll do whatever it takes to speed up the night just so I can get it over with.

• • •

Half an hour passes and the shots have definitely done their job. I’m feeling good and buzzed, and I don’t even mind it that Theodore is being a little handsy tonight. Amber and Glenn left the booth a couple of minutes ago to hit the dance floor, and Theodore is telling me all about . . .
shit
. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t think I’ve been listening to him at all.

Glenn slides back into the booth across from us and I try to stay focused on Theodore’s face so he’ll think I’m listening to him jabber about some fishing trip he takes with his cousin during summer solstice. When the hell is summer solstice, anyway?