Finding Jack, page 5
Anchors. They had anchors. Had he thrown ours out? But no, it sat on the deck.
Hurry up, Grizzled Andrew. I focused all my attention on him, trying to sink the thought into his brain. He only squinted back at me. Then he yawned.
At last a small bump shook me out of my thoughts, and Grizzled Andrew tossed a rope around the dock cleat. He climbed from the boat to help us out while Paul and I gathered up our stuff.
“Ladies first,” Paul said with a chivalrous wave.
Getting off the boat meant I’d have to break up with him. I stared at the dock and our skipper’s impassive face. Finally, I took a deep breath and Grizzled Andrew’s hand, and as I stepped onto the dock I muttered, “Why do you hate me, Grizzled Andrew?”
For the first time, his blank mask cracked and a sound came out, a sound that from anyone else might have been a laugh. “If you can’t be still on a boat, you got more noise inside you than is good for you.”
I missed a step at the sound of so many words coming out of him, but when I straightened and looked at him again, his face was as blank as ever.
Paul stepped onto the dock with a light thump beside me and finished his business with Andrew, giving him a tip and shaking hands with him. Then Paul’s hand slipped through mine as he dropped a light kiss on my hair. “I can’t wait to show you what I have lined up next.”
And as he led me down the dock, this time a very clear laugh from Grizzled Andrew followed us.
Great. I felt like I was being heckled by a salty wannabe pirate for not being able to do what needed doing with Paul.
And I deserved it.
“So I have something cool planned,” Paul said as we walked into the parking lot while I tried to figure out how to say, “I don’t want to do the thing you planned.”
“I was thinking we’d go for a coast drive. I rented a convertible and had it delivered here while we were on the boat.”
Ah, dannnnnnng it. At least he’d be able to drive me home in style after I dumped him.
He opened the door for me and then settled the picnic stuff into the cramped backseat while he explained his plan. “I calculated it all out, and with the average rate of flow for Saturday coastal traffic and based on the time of sunset, factoring in the best mid-range priced restaurant with the highest Yelp reviews, I figured out exactly where we can catch the best sunset.”
You didn’t go find perfect sunsets. They found you. It was a law of the universe. And I was sensing a pattern here. Paul gets good idea. Paul immediately sucks the life right out of it by planning and executing it perfectly.
But Paul had always been like this. It’s part of why we made so much sense as a couple. So why now? Why did I suddenly feel so stifled by it? Had Ranée finally gotten into my head with all her complaints?
No…I didn’t think so. Weirdly enough, this was about…well, Shoop.
Because whenever my mom would do that—crank the song and dance through the house while she dusted, or worse, lose her mind at a wedding and dance her face off when it came on—it used to embarrass me to no end. Like she’d be out there singing along at the top of her lungs and shaking her butt like she was still in college or something, and I’d just pray for the song to change. Or death.
But it wasn’t just me that it embarrassed. My dad hated it too. It made him so uncomfortable. And once, when I was eight, she’d had an extra glass of wine at a wedding and reallllly got down with her college girlfriends on the dance floor, he’d mumbled an excuse and escaped to the restroom. When my mom came back flushed with wine—or Shooping or both—I’d complained. Again. “Why do you have to do that? It makes Dad so uncomfortable. It’s not nice.”
Dad was more like me. He liked order and structure. And decorum, for pity’s sake. But Mom had only smiled and said, “I do it for him, honey. It reminds him of who he used to be before all the pressure.”
I’d been so mad then, because I didn’t really understand her answer. All I knew is that I never wanted my dad to look at me with the same anger and embarrassment he’d had on his face before he escaped from the wedding.
In the end, she refused to change. So did my dad. Which is how they ended up divorced two years later. And how my mom went through about four more serious relationships, another marriage, a divorce, and now a third husband. David. They were going on three years, probably because he took her out dancing whenever she wanted. Even still, they were doomed to sputter out soon.
I didn’t love my mom’s uninhibited approach to life sometimes. Most times. And certainly not the way her lack of inhibitions led her to fling herself into one failing relationship after another. But now, listening to Paul talk more about the metric he’d developed for making sure we found the perfect sunset, I realized that there was a tiny bit of merit in her playfulness—if it were dialed down—A TON. Paul needed more spontaneity in his life. Not “Shoop-even-if-your-spouse-hates-it” spontaneity. But a big step away from his spreadsheets.
I’d been so worried for months about making sure our experiences together were low-stress and perfectly executed, and it was the opposite of what we both needed.
Not until I Shooped like an idiot on the boat had I realized how much I’d needed an injection of silliness. And Paul was many, many good things, but he wasn’t silly.
He’d looked at me, embarrassed. It hadn’t felt good.
I took a deep breath. All right. Time to do the right thing. The only thing that made it doable was the knowledge that it was the right thing for him too.
“I don’t think I’m up for a coast drive. Can we just drive to the bridge overlook?”
“But I have this whole thing planned. It’ll be great.”
“I think I’m worn out already. I’m sorry.” Chicken. Do the right thing. I cleared my throat. “But also, I want to talk to you about something.”
Paul smiled. “The overlook then.” He handed me his phone. “Can you sync it? I made a playlist.”
It was called “Sunset Playlist,” and as we merged onto the harbor road, the first of several love songs played.
Oh, man. This was going to suck.
Chapter 8
Paul steered us into the pullout for the overlook, and even though we could have enjoyed the view from the car, I climbed out anyway and sat on a bench. It was conveniently placed to provide an ocean backdrop for dumping people who were in all ways perfectly acceptable and somehow still not right for you. I burrowed into my sweatshirt against the chilly breeze.
Paul sat beside me, and I drew a steadying breath before turning toward him with a gentle smile. “So I’ve been thinking—”
“Me too,” he said, picking up one of my hands and lacing his fingers through it. He wasn’t usually an interrupter, but now his eyes shone, and the words tumbled out of him like he couldn’t help himself. “I know we’ve kept things casual for the last five months while we both focused on work, but now that you’ve got a promotion, and I’m about to get one, I was thinking we should—”
“Paul.” I couldn’t let him get the words out. I owed him that much. I slid my fingers from his, and the excitement in his eyes dimmed. He pressed his lips together and looked at my hand, the one I’d drawn away to resettle in my lap. “You’re getting a promotion? That’s great.”
He was no dummy. “What’s going on, Emily?”
My eyes wanted to drift away, to focus on the ocean or the clouds or anything but the confusion on his face. But that wasn’t fair, so I returned his gaze while I searched for words. “The last few months with you have been so great. I honestly saw it going on like that indefinitely, maybe even growing into something else. And this is the point where it should feel like that, right? Like the point where it’s time to take the next step. I’m worried that’s what you were going to say we should do next, but I don’t want you to. I’m not sure I understand why, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
He straightened so he was turned toward the water instead of me and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs in short, nervous movements. Finally, he said, “I’m surprised.”
I sighed. “Me too.”
A long silence fell between us before he broke it. “I’m fine with waiting. When you get the hang of your new job, we can revisit this.”
He was taking it with so much grace, I hated what I had to say next. “I don’t think this is going to change with time. I feel a restlessness I can’t explain when we’re together. I don’t know what it means, but I think my instincts are trying to overpower my brain for once.”
“And for once you’re going to let them?” His tone was flat.
“For once I’m going to let them.”
He nodded, not looking at me. He shuffled his feet in the dirt, then leaned down to pick up a small pebble and throw it out toward the ocean. He didn’t bother to see where it landed. “Why didn’t you say something before we started this big day?”
“Because I didn’t know. I think there’s been something bubbling up for a little while, and being on that sailboat cleared my head. And then I couldn’t unsee it. I’m really sorry.”
He winced. “Don’t apologize. It makes me feel pathetic.”
“Sorry. For apologizing.”
The corner of his lips quirked up the tiniest bit. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little bit funny.”
He looked at me at last. “All right. Maybe a little.”
I reached down to scoop up another pebble and handed it to him. “Here. Throw that one.”
He took it. “Why?”
“I don’t know. That last one seemed to make you feel better.”
“True.” He chucked it toward the water, watching as it fell this time. “I don’t know why that works.”
“Are you imagining each one hitting a shark on the head?”
“What?”
“Nothing.” But it’s what I would’ve done, and it definitely would’ve improved my mood if my boyfriend had just dumped me for no reason.
He turned back to me. “I’ve still got the car all day, and I still know the best place to get fish and chips down the coast a little bit. Let’s go. Let’s just drive, and maybe I can find more rocks to throw.”
“I don’t know. That feels like it could get…”
“Awkward?” he finished. “For me, maybe. But I’m not planning to change your mind at all, so it shouldn’t be awkward for you. I just hate the idea of wasting this rental.”
Good old practical Paul.
“If I can stand to finish this drive, you probably can too,” he added. “You already did the hard part, right?”
“True.” He was being remarkably chill. “You really want to do this?”
He shrugged. “Sure. And it allows me to play this cool and save my dignity. But that playlist is toast.”
I laughed. “I’m in.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that Paul had taken it so well. I should’ve predicted it based on his practicality. But honestly, a little anger would be good for him. I’d have to ask Jack to Photoshop a shark getting bonked on the head with a rock so I could send it to Paul and title it, “Therapy.”
Although…he’d probably realize it came from Jack. And that was probably the last person Paul wanted to think about.
Actually, Jack was the last person I should be thinking about either.
And yet it kept happening. Ah, dang.
Dang, dang, dang.
Chapter 9
By the time Paul dropped me off at home, it was full dark, and even though it was too early for bed, I climbed into my pajamas and dragged my comforter onto our sixth floor balcony. I wrapped myself up against the night air and stared out at the city lights, which for me constituted the sulfur lights on the apartment buildings across the street.
I hadn’t left this morning meaning to break up with my boyfriend. I hadn’t meant to spend the rest of the day with him after dumping him and have it be…fine. And it had been. He was quieter than usual, but his meticulous calculations had indeed found us good fish and chips and the perfect spot to watch the sunset. But he didn’t pout or anything. Didn’t even make one passive-aggressive remark, and if I’d had to carry a little bit more of the weight of keeping the conversation going, well…that seemed fair.
But I was super wiped. All that fresh air and boyfriend dumping. And really, I should be sitting here trying to figure it all out. Like why the impulse had come over me. But I didn’t want to. And when Ranée came home an hour later, I yawned and told her I was going to sleep without mentioning the Paul thing. I wasn’t in the mood for questions.
That didn’t keep her from jerking me out of sleep at way-too-early-o’clock the next morning when she landed on my bed with a weird cannonball/ninja roll.
“Wake up,” she said with her face an inch from mine. But considering the cannonball, it didn’t need to be said.
I blinked at her. “Please move out.”
She crawled under the covers instead and stared at me from the other pillow.
“That pillow is for decoration, not roommate invasions.”
“Why does Paul’s Facebook say ‘single’ now?”
I rubbed my eyes and tried to process what she was saying. “Why are you even paying attention to Paul’s Facebook?” Then I sat up and gasped. “Ranée! Do you secretly love him?”
She bounced the pillow I’d just abandoned off my head. “Shut up. No. But that Tyler guy just posted something on your wall asking what happened so then I looked at Paul’s, and I’m incredibly smart so I kind of already know, but tell me what happened anyway.”
“Wait, what?” Tyler was an old co-worker who’d switched over to Paul’s company. I’d met Paul at a party at Tyler’s house. Tyler was the biggest gossip in the office, so it figured he’d be the first to sniff something out. “Break this down for me. I’m only halfway there.”
“Well, working backward, I think Paul changed his relationship status to single, Tyler saw it and posted something on each of your walls asking what happened, and that’s when I saw it. So what happened? If Tyler gets the story before I do, you’re dead to me.”
I rubbed more sleep from my eyes and glared at her. “I’m fine with that.”
“Talk.”
“This is going to be really anticlimactic for you. He planned an awesome day, and I should have loved it, but instead I broke up with him. He was nice about it, and we hung out the rest of the day anyway, but I don’t think we’re going to hang out ever again.” I collapsed back on my pillow. “I’m an idiot. What was I thinking?”
“He wasn’t good for you. He’s all the things you already are. You need someone who is all the things you’re not. So let’s figure out who that is.”
I turned over to look at her. “Did you just tell me that I need to think of the ways I’m lacking?”
“Yes! I mean, no,” she amended when she saw my frown. “I meant that you need to think of the qualities someone should have to balance you. Balance. That’s good.”
“You must be in marketing.”
“How’d you know? So let’s think of some stuff. Like you’re a total planner, so you need someone who’s more spontaneous.”
“I just got out of a relationship twelve hours ago. Maybe I need some ‘me’ time.”
But she barreled on. “You’re too serious sometimes, so you need someone with an excellent sense of humor. Like maybe someone who is Twitter-famous for his Photoshopping skills.”
I rolled out of bed onto the floor. “Bye,” I said, army crawling for the door.
She jumped in front of it and shut it. “Jack’s great. You should date him.”
I sat up, and then, because it hurt my neck to glare up at her, I stood up instead. “First of all, he lives in Portland. Or near it somewhere in a hipster cave where he sleeps in a nest of flannel. So no. But also, there’s this whole thing about I don’t want to date him. Which is kind of my main reason. Now move.”
I tugged the door open and slid past her to spend quality time with my Cinnamon Toast Crunch, or as my dad called it, “Dessert for breakfast.”
“Let’s talk about this,” she said across the breakfast bar.
I poured a bowl of cereal without turning around to look at her. “There is no ‘us’ talking about this. You’re going to talk at me. I can feel it.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. Did you love Paul?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not heartbroken and we can talk about this.”
“Of course I’m not heartbroken. I’m also not made of time, and I don’t have time for dating right now. It shouldn’t have been so hard for Paul and me to find time for each other. I need to get this new job under control and then I’ll think about it.”
I turned around to move to the table and squeaked to find her right in front of me, her phone up like a stop sign in her outstretched hand. “Before you say that, check this out.”
I blinked and focused on the picture. I recognized her brother, Sean, and another guy in a beanie. They were hanging from climbing ropes, obviously near the top of a cliff that whoever was taking the shot was standing on. The other guy had an electric smile, one you couldn’t help but return, even in a photo, and the corner of my mouth twitched up. “You want to hook me up with another one of your brother’s friends?”
“You think he’s hot?”
“He’s more my speed than Man Bun Jack.”
“That is Jack.” She looked as satisfied as if she’d eaten all my Cinnamon Toast Crunch herself. Then she took the bowl out of my hands and began to do exactly that.
Somehow I now had her phone in my hands instead. I sighed and looked down at the picture, enlarging it for a better view. Either this was before Jack had grown his hair out or maybe it was pulled back, but now I could see the strong jaw and high cheekbones I recognized from his other pictures. It’s just that in those, he had these faux-expressions, like over the top Handsome Man Smiles or Hot Guy Smolders. Here, he was just a really cute guy hanging out with his friend, no irony at all.
I set the phone down and poured another bowl of cereal. “Nope.”
