My Heart for Yours (7 page)

I can’t look at her.

“
You left me first,” she says.

I want to scream
bullshit
, but instead tighten my grip on the steering wheel, and try not to see the younger version of Delia’s dad in the driveway. The guy she’ll probably end up marrying—I just hope she doesn’t end up like her mother. That I couldn’t stand.

“
Delia. Just
go
.” It’s all too much. I shouldn’t have invited her out.

She shuts the door quietly. Neither her dad nor his minion looks up, so she must be in the clear. I don’t watch her walk away. I don’t want to see her touch him. I can’t. I turn around in the middle of the road and head back toward town, pleading with my own brain to block out the memory. Please, please don’t let it all come back to me today. But it’s too late. I’m right back there in my room with Eamon the afternoon that I knew I’d officially lost Delia.

***

“
You hungry?” Eamon asked. “Let’s go into town and get something to eat. I don’t want to spend my entire day off sitting here staring at your ugly face.”

“
Fine. Let me show you something first.”

He sighed, but followed me from his room into mine, knowing that there would be something deep-fried in his near future if he just complied.

“
All right, sit down,” I said, motioning to the chair. I turned my back to him and began digging furiously through my closet. You’d think I could keep track of something so important, but I’d always been the opposite of organized.

“
Wait,” I said, momentarily halting my search. “Did you just get home? Who were you out with last night?”

“
I wasn’t out,” he clarified, grinning.

“
Ah, a little walk of shame action.”

“
Nothing shameful about it, my brother.” Eamon laughed.

I reached inside the pocket of a worn out pair of jeans and produced a small, black velvet box.

“
Found it!” I said. The lid made a croaking noise as I opened it proudly. Inside was a thin, gold band inlayed with tiny, pin-prick diamonds. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t even close to what a girl like Delia deserved, but it was all I could do for now. I know you’re supposed to spend two months salary on a ring. Well, sadly, this is what two months worth of pay at Fontenot’s Welding bought. I just hoped it’d be enough for her.

“
And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve lost my appetite,” Eamon said.

“
Don’t be an asshole.”

“
No, no, no,” Eamon said, furiously shaking his head.

“
Yes, E! I’m going to ask Delia to marry me!”

“
Are you fucking insane?” he asked.

“
Nope. I’m so crazy about this girl.”

“
Look at you, all glassy eyed and proud. You’re so ridiculous,” Eamon said.

“
Eamon, come on. You know how much I miss her. I can’t do this for another year. I need to know she’s going to be in my life after her dad is done in D.C. I need her in my life forever.”

Eamon was staring off into space as if he were trying to figure out some complicated equation.

“
Is this because of what happened before she left? I mean, is it a guilt thing?” he asked.

“
That’s it. That’s got to be it.”

“
That’s not it at all,” I said, snapping the box shut. I wish he wouldn’t bring that up. There’s nothing in this world that I feel guiltier about than not being there the way I should have for Delia before she moved. I freaked. Panicked. I was a coward.

But shit, she’d suddenly turned into this crazy, clingy girl that she’d never been before—at the exact time that I’d needed thinking space. It was too much.

“
But, why? I really don’t understand.”

“
I don’t want to be with anyone else,” I said. “She’s it. Delia’s
it
for me. It’s not over guilt. I love her.”

Eamon rolled his eyes. I wanted to punch him in the teeth.

“
Look, if you’re going to be a dick about it, you can just go.” I said. I shoved the ring box into my top dresser drawer.

“
I don’t think I’m being a dick, Tobin, I think I’m being realistic. You’re only nineteen for Christ’s sake! I know this is the South, bro, but what the hell is the rush?”

“
I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s really pretty damn simple. I don’t want the same things as you. I don’t want to go out every night searching for a different girl. I just want Delia. I just need you to try to be happy for me. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going to drive up to D.C. and surprise her.”

“
Have you told Mom any of this?” Eamon asked, like I needed permission or something.

“
No, not yet. I’ll talk to her when she gets home from work. Now, we can go and get some food.”

I sat on the edge of my bed to put on my shoes when Eamon said, “Tobin, wait.” He left the room for a few seconds, and when he came back, he was holding a folded newspaper.

“
Mom and I thought it’d be better not to show you this. But I’m not going to have my brother driving hundreds of miles to make a fool out of himself. I’m sorry, bro.”

He handed me the paper, and all of the air left my lungs. No, all of the air left the entire room. The house. Maybe the earth.

It was her. At some hoity political event at the state capitol. She’d been close and didn’t even tell me. I could’ve driven out to Baton Rouge to see her. Why wouldn’t she tell me?

He
was why.

The caption under the photo said it all. Everything I needed to know about why she hadn’t been returning my calls as often. Why she sounded so distant. Black and white. Right there. And they’d hid it from me like I was too stupid and weak to understand.

YOUNG LOVE: Louisiana Senator’s daughter Delia Gentry and Tennessee Senators son Weston Martins, pictured here at the Conservative Politics Black Tie Fundraiser in Baton Rouge.

***

I waited for weeks for her to tell me that it was just some big misunderstanding. That they’d been forced to pose for that photo, smiling, his arm draped intimately around her. But she didn’t. And her silence when I called only further confirmed what I already knew. There was no mystery here. Nothing to figure out. The only thing to wonder was how I’d deluded myself into believing that I was ever good enough for Delia Gentry to love.

TO MAKE YOU HATE ME

The impossible task

Wasn’t as hard

As I’d hoped

Eight
Delia

Weston. Here. In Crawford. With my
dad
—the guy who was too busy to come. It’s so like Weston to come in and rescue the girl when she’s down. I should be thrilled, but I don’t know what I am. The confusion from my whole day seems to be surrounding everything I do.

My heart’s pounding, and I hate that Tobin saw Weston here, but I shouldn’t. That’s why I was so horrible at the end of us. We went from not knowing how to talk, to me unleashing every fear, hurt and frustration I had. My heart broke as I did it. I knew everything would be easier if Tobin hated me…until I saw him again. I wish I still wanted him to hate me now, because if he didn’t before, the hard look on his face when I got out, solidified that how I’d hurt him was all still there.

What Tobin doesn’t know is I feel the same way—hurt, angry. I’ve just learned to be a lot better at pretending.

We probably would have survived my family’s move. I know he loved me. I know he would’ve waited for me until we came back from D.C., but there was a lot more to overcome than miles. And that’s the part he bailed on.

Weston and Dad are pulling suitcases out of the trunk of his car, and I’m standing in the roadway, watching each piece of luggage hit the driveway, wondering how long exactly they plan on staying here. Weston with his neatly trimmed brown hair, and perfectly shaved face, and tidy clothes—even Tobin all dressed up has something rough around the edges. And it may have been the bit of slouch that attracted me to Weston, but that wouldn’t be noticed by anyone in Crawford. Weston here is all polish and rich perfection.

As Dad and Weston joke about something in the driveway, all I can think about is what it was like to say goodbye to Tobin. It happened where they’re standing.

***

Dad sat in the driver’s seat waiting. It was one of those horrible early hours of the morning that no one should be awake.

Tobin’s grasp on my hip tightened and he pulled me in close as he whispered, “Don’t worry, Delia. I’ll make this okay.”

I believed him. Tobin always made things okay, he’d just been busy, distant. We weren’t over, we’d just been under a lot of pressure. I knew as I thought those things that they were excuses. He was wimping out. Leaving me. But the longer he held me, almost desperate, the more I wanted to believe that we were still okay. I imagined feeling those strong arms wrapped around me almost daily when we first got to D.C. Wishing Tobin was there to hold me up. Wishing we could just go back to before things got so out of control, when we felt like things were still fixable.

But it was the thing he wouldn’t talk about. The thing that I can’t bring myself to think about. That’s what kept us from trying after I moved. Maybe me leaving town was a relief for both of us.

Neither Tobin nor I knew how to deal with something so much bigger than us, but I’d wanted him to know. I’d wanted him to take care of me, to tell me what to do, and he didn’t. I was dealing with too much, and the move to D.C., the move away from home, and I needed him. The harder I held him, the more I more I could feel myself breaking. His lips pressed to mine, and he backed away.

“
Bye, Delia,” he whispered, and let Mom lead me to the car.

I knew I wasn’t good enough for Tobin—he was letting me go.

I’m actually still amazed Dad let him come say goodbye, but I paid for that one later, too.

The shocking realization hit me as I climbed in the car. Tobin hadn’t known what to do with our situation, and he hadn’t known what to do with me.

The hurt dug in further. It was the first time I thought that Tobin and I might not be able to survive our situation. My body shook in its first sob.

It was like once I left, with all that weight hanging between us—everything I went through without him—we forgot how to talk to each other, and then he called.

Tobin didn’t know Weston and I weren’t dating when that photo was taken, but my silence to him was a confirmation of what he’d called to find out. And that sealed it.