An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) (25 page)

“I know you’re right. I let it affect me too much, I know that. But it’s probably too late to fix it now,” I moaned, looking up at her. “I really, really screwed this up with Chris.”

“That boy loves you, Ash, don’t you know that?”

I nodded. “But I hurt him…”

Allison shrugged. “So go apologize. Tell him what happened. Tell him you’re done being crazy. Fix it.”

“You think it will be that easy?”

“I do.”

She turned back to her French toast, chewing for a moment before speaking again. “To be honest with you, Ash, I’m a lot more concerned about you and Mom than I am about you and Chris.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you’d be thrilled that I’m fighting with Mom. You finally have someone on your side in the battle against Amber Phillips.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “I do not want you to fight with Mom. I’m not that immature. But,” she continued, “I do want you to think about your relationship with her and the pressure it puts on you.”

I was pretty sure I knew where she was going with this. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still trying to please her. You know that, right?” When I didn’t respond, she went on, “Babe, it’s obvious. You’ve always been this way. You’ve always wanted nothing more than her approval.”

“Well, you know how she could be,” I said, shaking my head, remembering the years of trying to live up to my mother’s expectations. “You know how demanding she was. Seriously, Al, you of all people know that. You moved across the country to get away from it.”

Allison nodded. “I do know. But I also know that you’re the only one who tried so hard with her. I sure as hell didn’t—I did everything I could to rebel against her, to purposefully fail to meet her expectations. Even Amy didn’t try that hard.”

“Spoiled brat,” I muttered, making Ally laugh.

“Yeah, well. Amy might be perfect in our parents’ eyes, but she sure as hell never tried to be. She’s selfish and demanding. She does whatever she wants, Ash. You’re the only one who lives and dies by what Mom thinks.”

Suddenly, a memory flashed into my mind, crystal clear. I was thirteen, and I had just spilled Coke on my brand new cashmere sweater. It was lunchtime in junior high and my friend Heather had made me laugh so hard, I had spilled my nearly full can of Coke all over myself. I ran to the bathroom in a panic, trying to rinse out the stain. I remembered feeling terrified to go home and tell my mom. Not because she would be mad about the spill, she was used to my clumsiness by then. But she’d be disappointed that I’d been drinking Coke.
Empty calories, Ashley
, she would say.
And bad for your teeth.
I had been so worried about the look I knew would be in her eyes that I’d actually given myself a stomachache.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “I always wanted her to be proud of me. I always wanted to make her happy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Ash. All kids want their parents to be proud of them. I just think you took it too far. And I think you still do.”

I watched her eat for a moment, scared to ask the question I wanted to. “Um, Ally?” I finally asked. “Do you love her?”

She dropped her fork and turned to face me, surprise written all over her face. “Mom?” I nodded. “Of course I do, Ash. God, what do you think of me?”

“You just…well, you fight all the time, you know?”

Allison laughed. “Because we’re exactly the same, don’t you know that?”

It was my turn to be surprised. “No you’re not! You’re nothing alike.”

“Really? We’re not both stubborn? We don’t both always get our way?”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“Look, Ash. I had a hard time trying to fit into her ideal of what a daughter should be, so we argued and fought, and we don’t always get along. Our personalities clashed. But she’s my mother, of course I love her. She’s not a bad person, you know?”

I was silent, drinking my coffee and thinking about that. I’d been so mad at her lately, I’d forgotten all the really great things about my mom. The way she would imitate all the individual voices whenever she read us a story. How she would plan “girls’ days” for the four of us to go out shopping or get our nails done. Even when we were little, she let us pick the restaurant on those days, and she treated us like little adults when she talked to us, letting us order whatever we liked.

“Remember Jammies Saturdays?” Allison asked, smiling. I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. Whenever my dad had to be gone on business, Mom would let us stay in pjs all day. We’d build pillow forts, eat ice cream for dinner, and watch rented videos all night. I had a sudden flash of my mom, laughing her head off at something Allison had said, her perfect hair ruffled against her silly flannel pajamas, her arm wrapped around Amy’s shoulders.

“I’d nearly forgotten about that,” I whispered.

“You know, as much as we fought, there was never a day that I lived in that house that she didn’t tell me she loved me.” Allison had a point: our mother was always affectionate. I had never doubted that she loved any of us.

“It’s okay to think about the good stuff, Ash. You guys were always closer than she and I. You’re
supposed
to love her. And you can do that even though you’re mad. It’s not an either or kind of thing.”

I nodded again, unsure if I could speak.

“But you also shouldn’t worry so much about pleasing her. I would imagine it would drive you kind of nuts, you know? To be pissed at her but still worry so much about what she thinks of you.”

“That’s what Ryan said. That he thought it would be hard to be so angry at her and still so afraid of disappointing her.”

Ally nodded. “You’ve been furious with her for months, haven’t you? So why in the hell have you let her plan this wedding? Why didn’t you tell her to go screw herself?”

We both laughed, the thought of me saying something like that to my mother was that preposterous.

“I mean it, though,” Allison said after a minute. “I think you let her do all this, you went along with it, because you still wanted to make her happy. In spite of everything that happened, you wanted her to be pleased with you.”

“She wasn’t too pleased with me Sunday morning,” I muttered. “I actually dropped the f-bomb in front of her.”

“You did?” Allison’s face lit up. “Man, would I have liked to see that.”

I laughed. “No. It was awful.”

“Yeah, you felt so bad about it, that you freaked out and picked a fight with Chris,” she said knowingly. “You’re so sick of trying to be perfect for her, Ash, don’t you see that? When that guy from the gym asked you out, it was the ideal excuse for you to just go nuts, be anyone but yourself.”

“I would hardly call going out for a smoothie going nuts.”

She smiled. “For someone as straight laced as you it was.”

I shoved her, but I couldn’t help but remember the feeling of nearly euphoric recklessness that had washed over me. I stared at my sister. “How the hell did you get so smart?”

She smiled. “Years of therapy.”

“You’re in therapy?” I couldn’t hide my shock. I would have thought Allison was way too confident, too sure of herself, to ever submit to something like therapy.

“Yeah,” she said easily. “You should try it. Hell, Mom should try it. Maybe it will help her to figure out why the hell she needs to be so perfect all the time.”

“You think that’s what the affair was about, don’t you?” I asked, suddenly getting it, the way Allison had seemed almost impressed that Mom had it in her. “You think she cheated on Daddy because she couldn’t stand the pressure to stay so perfect.”

Allison shrugged. “I don’t know why she did it, Ash. Maybe she did crack under the pressure. Maybe she was tired of him being so complacent. Maybe she got bored. Maybe she just fell in love with someone else.” She looked me straight in the eye. “There’s no way of knowing, sis. And there’s no way to know for sure that it won’t happen to you.”

I felt my stomach plummet, way down to my ankles. It was true then. My worst fear. Maybe not today, maybe not in ten years, but someday, someday Chris and I could be in the exact same position.

“I think the thing that pushed me over the edge was seeing Ryan,” I said. “I had such high hopes he could stop messing everything up for himself now that he was with Brian. Seeing him with that little twerpy guy who treated him so badly…” I looked up at Allison, wondering if she could see how desperate I was to be wrong. “Maybe people can’t change. Maybe we’re all destined to make the same mistakes over and over.”

“You are not destined to make Mom’s mistakes,” she said firmly.

“I thought they loved each other so much, Al,” I whispered, knowing that this was truly the crux of all my freaking out over the last few months. “If I was sure of anything in the world, it was that our parents loved each other and true love was possible.”

“And their splitting up made you doubt that?”

I nodded.

Allison let out a great sigh. “I don’t know, Ashley. That’s the truth—no one really knows if they’re going to make it or not. It’s the risk we take when we fall in love. Only you can decide if the risk is worth it.”

I thought about that. I knew she was right, but thinking about risks and taking chances didn’t exactly make me feel better.

“You know what I think, though?” I looked up at her and hope suddenly began to blossom in my chest as I took in the expression on her face. “I think the two of you will be okay. Better than okay. I think you’ll always talk to each other, remind each other of why you fell in love in the first place.” She smiled. “That’s the only way to minimize that risk, you know? You have to work at it.”

“Do you think we can do it?” I asked. Under the table, I crossed my fingers. I couldn’t say exactly why, but having Allison’s faith in us would make all the difference to me.

Across the table, my sister reached over to take my hand. “I think the two of you will be just fine, Ashley. I really, really do.”

Chapter Twenty-six

I went straight from the airport to Chris’s apartment, saying a silent prayer as I drove that he would be home. As I drove down his street, I noticed for the first time that spring had really and truly arrived—the trees were awash in green and the flowers were in bloom.

I debated using my key to get into his apartment, remembering that he hadn’t used his the night he had come to my place and saw me with Tate. Was that supposed to be a sign that he felt we had lost those privileges with each other?

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I said to myself, pulling out my keys and letting myself into the lobby of his building. I stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the third floor, my heart pounding the entire ride.

At Chris’s door, I paused to listen for sounds of life within. Was that the TV on? Taking a deep breath, I knocked.

The door swung open and there he was, this boy I had loved for so long. He was dressed in faded jeans and an old MSU T-shirt, barefoot and scruffy faced. I felt my heart swell—Chris did casual really well. He looked gorgeous.

“Can I come in?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice even. He hadn’t said hello.

“Sure,” he said, moving aside so I could come through. I walked into his living room to see a mess—potato chip bags littered the coffee table, along with beer bottles and take-out containers. I turned to him in surprise. Chris was normally one of the tidiest people I knew.

“Are you okay?” I asked, immediately worried.

He looked at me, his face incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” I asked, confused. “I just meant, because the room’s kind of a mess, and, well, you usually—”

“Of course I’m not okay!” he yelled, startling me so much I jumped back.

“My fiancée took off for four days without even telling me she was leaving,” he continued, advancing on me. “I was worried out of my mind, Ashley.” His face was close to mine now, and I could see that he did, in fact, look worried. His eyes were tired and puffy, the stubble on his face accumulated over at least three days.

“I’m not letting you do this,” he said simply. “You got that? I’m not letting you run away from me.”

“Chris,” I began, but he cut me off again.

“No, Ashley, I mean it. You don’t get to decide that we’re done, just because you’re scared. I’m not giving up on us. So if you came here to break up with me, you can just march right back out. I don’t accept.”

I felt the strangest urge to laugh. He looked so cute, standing there all scruffy, yelling at me about not letting me go.

…It would never occur to him to fight for me, to fight for anything.

I remembered my mother’s words with a little pain, but not for myself. Chris was not my dad. He was standing here in front of me, fully prepared to fight for us. And I was certainly not my mother. Allison had been right—we were going to be just fine.

“Can I talk now, please?” I asked.

“Not if you’re planning to argue with me,” he said. “Because I don’t want to hear it.” He moved past me into the living room and started picking up his trash, throwing each piece into the garbage can with a loud clang. It seemed a strange time for him to be cleaning, but he appeared to have too much energy to stand still. I had to stifle another laugh.

“You know what, Ashley?” he said, suddenly turning to face me again. “I think what you and I have is pretty damn awesome. I really do. Maybe you can’t see it right now, but it’s there. So if you want—”

I’d heard enough. I walked the few steps separating us and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his face down to mine so I could kiss him full on the mouth.

Chris had always been a good kisser. It was one of the things I loved best about him, the way he made me feel all electrified, the way my stomach dipped like riding on a rollercoaster every time my lips touched his.

As far as kisses went, this was one was pretty much as good as it gets.

“I’m not breaking up with you, okay?” I said, breathless, once I had pulled away. “If you would just shut up for a minute, I could tell you that.”

He stared down at me, his arms still wrapped loosely around my waist, looking bewildered. His glasses had fallen down on his nose a little, adding to the effect. This time, I did laugh.