Page 77 of I Love a Good Challenge

I can’t finish the sentence. My jaw clenches, awareness of all the things that should have been shooting through my neck, and I force down the emotion.

“It’s okay, man. I understand.” Rafe glances between Lily and me, and it’s clear that he does. He understands what’s between us, and I feel the shame of it creeping up my spine. “I’ll see you at our place?” Rafe carefully watches me, his scarred eyebrow arched.

I know that I must be the best man possible, even when I’m in pain. If it was any other night and he wasn’t so distracted and elated to be marrying Sparrow, I think he would notice the minor changes in my appearance and the way my foot taps the wooden floor impatiently. But he doesn’t. It’s Lily who will be left with the unraveling when he leaves.

As soon as Rafe disappears, Lily’s piercing grey eyes go right to my soul. I can see hers too, fighting to keep it civil between us. I know what it has to be: It’s either an all-in I love you from both of us, or it’s nothing at all.

“George, I . . .”

There she goes, not using my name again. I’ve hoped for a sign to show me she’s not ready to call it. I wasn’t expecting it to be like this, but I take note of the undertone of her voice. For a moment, we’re back at the movie theater two years ago, with enough hope between us to leap into love without having to first know the ending. We’re Graham and Lily, with honesty and confessions of love between us. So much honesty. We’re slightly younger versions of ourselves with my hands in her hair and my heart in her hands. We’re not this.

I shake my head.

“You win,” I say softly. “No arguments this time. No retractions. My—” I start, voice cracking, “my best friend . . . is getting married.” A deep breath. “And I will be there for him. For them.”

Lily nods, her eyes focusing on a spot on my chest and not my face, as if we haven’t covered more ground than this before. It’s back to a formality I once tried to uphold and preemptively ripped to shreds the second I thought she was truly choosing to come back to me.

“Oh, and I heard back about Nashville. It’s perfect, actually. For Rafe . . . and his career . . . I can make it work. A win-win.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

My breathing turns shallow. We’ve reached the part of the fight where one of us must choose to stay down. And again, it’s me.

“No more challenges,” I declare.

Lily shuts her eyes. It’s a moment I never want to remember, even though I know it will be a constant replay now.

“No more challenges,” she repeats, her tone matching the emptiness I feel.

As if I just can’t help but say something—have the final word to try to wrap up what we’ve been—I step back and struggle to get the words out. “I was happy.”

Lily’s sharp inhale makes me want to return to her, but I don’t. I must move forward with the knowledge that there are only a few more scheduled events to endure. And then our friends will be married, and I’ll be leaving, a hollow version of the man I once was but still finding ways to see the beauty. How many people know what it means to love someone so completely? I may not have run after her the first time, thinking that my distance honored her will, but I’ve loved her every second I’ve known her. And in a world that shifts like water through my hands, time seems to find ways to leak out without me wishing for it. I know I will never find it within myself to regret a single moment of the time we’ve spent together.

As I step out into the spring air, the chill at the edges of it elevating my senses, I let the sound of the nearby river calm my nerves. The lights from the restaurants along the path cause tiny orbits to hover over the surface, illuminating some of the rocks the water crashes over on this side of town. Music carries into the air, and laughter evaporates into the inky sky. A train whistle once again greets me in the distance and reminds me of how far I’ve come.

While my neck muscles are tightly coiled, and my stomach feels unsettled from the emotion of this evening, I also feel immensely proud. I’ve been fighting so hard for others to believe that I’m a good man that I didn’t realize I was always really trying to convince myself. But trying to be one doesn’t make me one.

It’s having the courage to love someone else in a way that I wish I had been loved all along. It’s being okay with not having my love returned and yet not treating her any differently. I don’t have to always feel useful. I am able to not always have the answers yet still choose to believe that, when it comes to love—while it hasn’t been what I’ve hoped for quite yet—I haven’t been overlooked. Besides, I’d rather love Lily with my whole heart than know I’ve withheld anything that I am from her. And for that, at least, I can find no fault.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lily

We’re back at the church, waiting for Pastor Wilfred to continue leading us through the pretend ceremony before the real one begins tomorrow. My feet are killing me, and I’m questioning all my life choices, especially the ones pertaining to a certain unforgettable man. Pastor Wilfred’s talk of love and marriage feels like warmth melting through a frozen part of my heart. It stings a little.

He moves to the front of the church, acting like it’s his stand-up hour. I love him. He has known me since I was a baby, but the joke about Eve being the apple of Adam’s eye can only be told so many times (actually, it should never be said in the first place). His speech is starting to drone on and on about what will happen on Sunday. Choir members are leaving from the practice that began just before we got in, which is fitting since I’m ready to sing a song of lament.

It will be a small wedding party, with only Graham and me at the altar next to the happy couple. The rest of the town will show up as attendees, so I’ll have no other buffer till then, the reality of which is making me antsy.

Liam is strumming his guitar on the stage, waiting for the rehearsal to officially start. Ivy is probably at her studio choreographing the dance for the summer festival. Even Grey, who would usually show up to cheer on Sparrow and Rafe, is at her bookstore, wrapping up the party favors.

While the bride and groom would’ve chosen a larger wedding party, Rafe doesn’t have brothers or other best friends in town. Maybe Liam would’ve stepped in as a groomsman, but then, who would play the music for the ceremony? Besides himself, I suspect Rafe only trusts Liam to do it. So, here we are . . . one quaint wedding party consisting of two fated lovers and two exes. What a dream team.

Except, when I’m being honest with myself, my insides tell me this could’ve all been so different. If I hadn’t run away—if I had just stayed that night on the beach and been open with Graham—I would now have more than an engagement ring. Something whispers within me that we would’ve been married by now. And Sparrow would’ve been my maid of honor, and I wouldn’t be looking at Graham with more longing than I know what to do with.

My gaze shifts to where he sits quietly in the front row, his arm over the back of the wooden pew. I’ve put myself a few rows behind him so I can drink in the sight of him for all I’m worth. It’s here, with the fresh evening glow filtering through the stained glass windows as the spring air swirls and bounces through the open doorway, that I’m permitting myself to do the thing I told myself I never would. I’m pulling back the curtain of our time together and allowing myself to feel the things I’ve denied all along. In the process, I’m dismantling all the lies.

The lie that I didn’t love him as much as he loved me. The lie that I didn’t love the way his fingers twirled through my hair. The lie that I haven’t dreamed of him beside me in the morning instead of the ghost of him when I awaken.

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