Page 144 of Crazy for this Girl

“Cal,”—she hits me with an exasperated look—“don’t start anything, please.”

“I won’t have to. She will.”

I fucked up, Laynee. I never wanted to stop us. It was never a plan for me. I didn’t get to choose, and when I did, I chose wrong.

I can’t stand Cal Harper right now with every inch of my being. With every fiber of what makes me up.

He chose everything wrong.

He abandoned me and acted like he hadn’t at first, and over the years, I’ve tried to get over it. The whole “it was meant to be” thing was something I always tried to believe and accept, demanding it soak into my heart, so it’d stop aching.

It never did.

There was no amount of time that rendered my being able to fully get over it. I tried to continue on with my life, moving on from the bitterness that coated my heart and attempting to find someone that would match him.

What a freaking joke.

“Laynee hasn’t mentioned that she works for such a successful company,” Mom says after a sip of red wine that Cal recommended for her. I’m not sure who she’s trying to be right now, but I’ve never seen Mom drink alcohol at lunch. “Last time I heard from her, she was in between jobs.”

“That means we’d have to be talking,” I mutter over my lemonade, staring down at the perfectly folded white swan napkins on my salad plate.

This lunch spot is way too fancy for my tastes, but Mom picked it out from Googling restaurants, and Cal happily agreed with his eyes pinned on me the whole time.

Even though he said he had one in mind, Mom just does what she always does and ignores people.

“Laynee is fantastic at her job,” Cal vouches over his glass filled with dark bourbon. “I’m lucky to have her.”

“And you’ve gotten to rekindle your friendship?” Mom presses noisily with a quirked brow. “I remember how close you two were. I could barely take Laynee anywhere without you wanting to tag along.”

“What can I say”—Cal takes a large gulp of his bourbon before licking his bottom lip—“I was slightly obsessed with her.”

My eyes flick to him, already finding his greens latched onto me.

Holy fuck, no.

That’s not true.

No.

Yes, it is. He told you he loved you.

Yeah, because he wanted to get down your pants.

“But you disappeared,” Mom probes on, obviously not wanting to drop the awkward topic. It’s like she knows what will make me the most uncomfortable and purposely carries it onward. “You didn’t come up to the cabin the year you both graduated, and I think…” I feel her nosey focus on me. “Wasn’t it over a year, honey, that you said you finally heard back from him?”

Thirteen weeks, the first time.

And she wouldn’t have known about any others if she didn’t catch me at a vulnerable time just once.

“I don’t remember.” I steer my stare back at her, silently trying to get a desperate message across for her to shut the hell up.

She ignores it, or doesn’t get it—I don’t buy that for one second—returning her conversation with Cal to his face. “She was devastated.”

“Mom.”

“A wreck. I found her re-reading your letters all the time.”

“Mom.”

---