After Ever Happy (After #4) (43 page)

“How long?” His shoulders slump and his fingers brush his hair back.

“Until we know that we’re ready.” I feel more resolute than I have in the last eight months.

“Know what? I already know what I want with you.”

“I need this, Hardin. If I can’t get myself together, I would resent you and myself. I need this.”

“Fine, you can have it. I’m giving this to you, not because I want to, but because this will be the last doubt I will ever entertain from you. After I give you this time and you come back to me, that’s it. You aren’t leaving again, and you will marry me. This is what I want in return for this time you need.”

“Okay.” If we make it through this, I will marry this man.

H
ardin kisses my forehead and closes the passenger door of my car. My bags have been packed for the thousandth and last time, and Hardin is leaning against the car now, bringing me to his chest.

“I love you; please remember that,” he says. “And call me the second you get there.”

He isn’t happy about this, but he will be. I know this is right; we need this time for ourselves. We are so young, so confused, and we need this time to repair some of the damage that has been done in the people’s lives around us.

“I will. Tell them bye for me, remember?” I lean into his chest and close my eyes. I’m not sure how this will end, but I know it’s necessary.

“I will. But get in the car, please. I can’t draw this out and pretend that I’m happy about it. I’m a different person now, and I can cooperate, but much longer, and I’ll want to drag you back into that bedroom for all time.”

I wrap my arms around Hardin’s torso, and he rests his arms around my shoulders. “I know you are—thank you.”

“I love you, Tessa, so fucking much. Remember that, okay?” he says into my hair. I can hear his voice breaking, and the need to protect him starts to claw its way into my heart again.

“I love you, Hardin. Always.” I press my palms against his chest and lean up to kiss him. I close my eyes, wishing, wanting, hoping that this won’t be last time I feel his lips against mine, that this won’t be the last time I ever feel this way. Even now, through the sadness and pain of leaving him here, I feel the constant pulse of electricity between us. I feel the soft curve of his lips and the burn of need for him, then the desire to change my mind about this and continue living in the cycle. I feel the compulsion that he holds over me, and I over him.

I pull away first, memorizing the low groan he makes when I do, and kiss his cheek. “I’ll call you when I get there.” I kiss him once more, just a small, quick goodbye kiss, and he runs his hands over his hair when he steps away from my car.

“Be safe, Tess,” Hardin says as I climb into the car and close the door.

I don’t trust myself enough to speak, but finally, as my car pulls away form the house, I whisper, “Bye, Hardin.”

A
m I okay?” I turn around before the full-length mirror, tugging at my dress, which hits right at the knees. The maroon silk has a nostalgic feel to it underneath my fingers. The moment I tried the dress on, I fell in love with the way the material and color reminded me of my past, of a time when I was someone else. “Do I look okay?”

This dress is different from its earlier version. That dress was loose fitting and high collared, with three-quarter-length sleeves. This dress is formfitting and has a slightly lower collar with a cutout pattern across the neckline and lacks sleeves. I will always love that old dress, but I’m happy with the way this dress fits me now.

“Of course you do, Theresa.” My mother leans against the doorway with a smile.

I’ve tried to calm my nerves in preparation for today, but I’ve drunk four cups of coffee, eaten half a bag of popcorn, and paced around my mother’s house like a madwoman.

Hardin’s graduation. I’m slightly paranoid that my company will be unwelcome, that the invitation was made out of politeness, only to be silently taken back in the time we’ve been separated. The minutes and hours have ticked by somehow, in the same way they always have and always will, but this time I’m not trying to forget him. This time, I’m remembering and healing and thinking back on my time with Hardin with a smile.

That night in April, the night that Landon handed me a reality check on a silver platter, I drove straight to my mother’s house. I called Kimberly and cried into the phone until she told me to suck it up, stop crying, and do something about the direction my life was headed in.

I hadn’t realized just how dark my life had become until I started to see light again. I spent the first week in complete solitude, barely leaving my childhood bedroom and forcing myself to eat. Every single thought I had revolved around Hardin and how much I missed him, needed him, loved him.

The next week was less painful, as it was in the past during our breakups, but this time was different. This time, I had to remind myself that Hardin was in a better place with his family, and I wasn’t leaving him to fend for himself. He had his family, if he needed anything. The daily calls from Karen were the only thing that kept me from driving back there to check on him one hundred times. I needed to get my life together, but I also needed to be sure I wasn’t doing more damage to Hardin’s life, or anyone else’s around me.

I had become that girl, the one that burdens everyone around her, and I didn’t realize it, because Hardin was all I could see. His opinion of me was the only thing that seemed to matter, and I spent my days and nights trying to fix him, fix us, while breaking everything else, including myself.

Hardin was persistent the first three weeks, but just like Karen’s daily calls, his lessened and lessened in frequency until I was only getting two calls a week, between the two of them. Karen assures me that Hardin is happy, so I can’t find it in myself to be upset that he doesn’t keep in touch as much as I wanted or hoped that he would.

I keep in touch with Landon the most. He felt terrible the morning after saying all those things to me. He came to Hardin’s room to apologize to me, only to find Hardin alone and pissed off. Landon immediately called me, begging me to come back and let him explain, but I assured him that he was right and I needed to stay away for a while. As much as I wanted to go to New York with him, I needed to go back to where the destruction of my life began and start over, alone.

Landon’s reminder that I wasn’t a part of their family hurt me the most. It made me feel unwelcomed, unloved, and unattached to anything or anyone. I felt like it was just me, untethered, floating around trying to latch myself onto anyone who would take me. I had become too dependent on others and was lost inside the cycle of wanting to be wanted. I hated that feeling. I hated it more than anything else, and I understand that Landon made that statement out of anger alone, but he wasn’t wrong. Sometimes anger breaks through to things we’re really feeling.

“Daydreaming won’t help you get out of the door any faster.” My mother walks toward me and pulls open the top drawer of my jewelry box. Dropping a pair of small diamond studs in my palm, she closes her hand around mine. “Wear these. It won’t be as bad as you think. Just keep yourself composed and don’t show any weakness.”

I laugh at her attempt to comfort me and push the back onto the second earring. “Thank you.” I smile at her reflection in the mirror.

And she, being Carol Young, suggests that I pull my hair back away from my face, add more lipstick, wear higher heels. I kindly thank her for her advice, though I don’t follow it, and silently thank her again when she doesn’t push her suggestions further.

My mother and I are on the path to the relationship I always dreamed we would have. She’s learning that I am a woman, young but capable of making my own decisions. And I’m learning that she never intended to become the woman she is now. She was broken by my father all those years ago, and she never recovered. She’s working on that now, sort of in a parallel way to how I am.

I was surprised when she told me she had met someone and has been dating for a few weeks now. The biggest surprise of all was that the man, named David, is not a lawyer, not a doctor, and doesn’t drive a luxury car. He owns a bakery in town, and he laughs more than anyone else I’ve ever met. He has a ten-year-old daughter, who has taken a strong liking to trying on my clothes, which are far too big on her small frame, and to letting me practice my slowly developing makeup and hairdressing skills on her. She’s a sweet girl, named Heather, and her mother passed away when she was seven. The biggest surprise of all is how sweet my mother is to that girl. David brings something out in my mother that I have never before seen, and I adore the way she laughs and smiles when he is around.

“How much time do I have?” I turn to my mother and step into my shoes, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes when I choose the lowest-heeled ones in my closet. I am already a nervous wreck; the last thing I need to add to my anxiety is walking in heels.

“Five minutes, if you want to arrive early, which I know you do.” She shakes her head and pulls her long blond hair to one shoulder. It’s been an amazing and emotional experience to watch the shift in my mother, to watch some of the stone crack, and to watch her become a better version of herself. It’s nice to have her support today—especially today—and I am thankful that she has kept her opinion of my going to the ceremony to herself.

“I hope traffic isn’t bad. What if there’s a wreck? The two-hour drive could easily turn into four hours, and my dress will be wrinkled and my hair will be flat and—”

My mother cocks her head to one side. “You will be
fine.
You’re overthinking things. Now, apply some lipstick and get on the road.”

I sigh and do exactly what she says, hoping that everything will go as planned. For once.

I
groan, staring at the hideous black gown in the mirror. I’ll never understand why I’m being forced to wear this shit. What’s wrong with wearing normal clothes during the ceremony? My street clothes would already be color coordinated with the mass of black anyway.

“The dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever worn in my life, hands down.”

Karen rolls her eyes at me. “Oh, come on. Just wear it.”

“Pregnancy is making you a lot less tolerable,” I tease her, and move out of the way before she can smack my arm.

“Ken has already been at the Coliseum since nine this morning. He will be so proud to see you dressed in this gown and walking across the stage.” She smiles as her eyes gloss over. If she cries, I’m going to need an exit. I’ll just slowly walk out of the room and hope her vision is too blurry for her to follow.

“You make it sound like I am going to prom,” I grumble, adjusting the stupid material that is swallowing my entire body.

My shoulders are tense, my head is throbbing, my chest is burning in anticipation. Not because of the ceremony or the diploma—I couldn’t give a shit less about either of those. The overwhelming anxiety stems from the possibility that
she
might be there. Tessa is the only reason behind my putting on this show for everyone; she is the one who convinced (well,
conned
) me into going in the first place. And if I know her as well as I know I do, she’ll be there to witness her triumph.

Though her calls have become less and less frequent, and her texts have become practically nonexistent, she will come today.

An hour later, we are pulling into the parking lot of the Coliseum, where the graduation is being held. I agreed to ride with Karen after the ninetieth time she asked me. I would have preferred to drive myself, but she’s been clingy lately. I know she’s trying to compensate for Tessa’s departure from my life, but nothing will fill that gap.

Nothing and no one would ever provide what Tessa has provided for me; I will always need her. Everything I do, every single day since she left me, is only to be better for her. I’ve made some new friends—okay, two friends. Luke and his girlfriend, Kaci, are the closest things I have to friends, and they are okay company. Neither of them drinks much, and they definitely don’t come close to spending their time at shitty parties or making bets. I met Luke, who is a few years older than me and being dragged to couple’s therapy once a week, during my weekly session with Dr. Tran, mental health professional extraordinaire.

Okay, not really; he’s a scam artist I pay $100 an hour to, to listen to me talk about Tessa for two hours a week . . . but it does make me feel better talking to someone about all the shit inside my head, and he’s decent at listening to me.

“Landon said to remind you that he’s really sorry that he couldn’t make it. He’s so busy in New York,” Karen tells me as she pulls into the parking space. “I promised him that I would take a lot of pictures for him today.”

“Yay.” I smile at Karen and climb out of the car.

The building is packed, the stadium-style seats filled with proud parents, relatives, and friends. I nod at Karen when she waves to me from her seat in the front. Being the wife of the chancellor gives some advantages, I guess. Like front-row seats to a fun-filled graduation.

I can’t help but attempt to find Tessa in the crowd. It’s impossible to see half the faces because the damn lights are so bright and blinding and excessive. I would hate to see how much this extravagant ceremony is costing the university. Finding my name on the seating chart, I smile at the grumpy woman who is in charge of seating. She’s annoyed, I’m guessing, because I missed the rehearsal. But, really, how complicated could this shit possibly be? Sit. Name called. Walk. Take worthless piece of paper. Walk. Sit back down.

Of course, when I do sit down in my place, the plastic seat is uncomfortable and the guy next to me is sweating like a damn whore in church. He’s fidgeting, humming to himself, and shaking his knee. I almost want to say something until I realize I’m doing the exact same thing, minus the disgusting sweat.