Page 95 of Let Me Say It Again

Or when he made me dinner.

Or when I shared a bed with him, watching him sleep because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else that would make me happier, more at peace.

Getting out of the cab, I opened my umbrella—I kept one in my purse at all times, because getting caught in the rain was just my luck—and walked to Red’s door. I felt melancholy. I probably looked melancholy.

I had to shake this off. I didn’t want Red seeing me this way. I didn’t want him to think that I was sad over something we both knew was going to happen anyway.

You know what, I was going to give him the ring and walk away because if he talked, if he opened that beautiful mouth of his and words came out, I was going to get down on my knees and do the one thing I never did and beg. Beg for him to stay with me.

Maybe I didn’t have to beg. Maybe he wanted to be with me, too.

Why? Why in the world would he have wanted to be with someone like me, though? I went back on my way of thinking. Screw being optimistic. It was for people who could be because they knew that they were going to find a pot of gold at the endof the rainbow. I wasn’t one of those people. Every time I was optimistic, I wound up hurt.

And I was done being hurt.

This was it.

I was doing myself and Red a big favor by walking away. He was a great guy who deserved someone far better than me, someone who belonged in his world. I didn’t. I never had. And I never would.

How could I?

Just look at me. I’d always be exactly what I was—broke, bitchy, and alone.

I couldn’t even come up with another b-word to make that sound better. That was how pathetic I was.

No, I was walking away from this with my dignity.

Once I got up the courage to knock on his door, I did.

As I waited for him to answer it, opening the door and taking my breath away with his sheer attractiveness, I slid the engagement ring he’d given me off my finger.

It was funny—life was funny—because, at first, I hadn’t felt like this ring belonged on my finger. I’d felt like it belonged on any other woman’s finger but mine. It was too pretty, too big, too promising.

Now, when I looked at it, I loved seeing it there. I loved remembering the way he’d given it to me and seeing how far we’d come. Things weren’t the same as they were. In some ways they were, but in others, they couldn’t have been more different.

What I’d learned from all of this—just as life gave you something, it could take it away. Nothing was yours. It was merely yours for a period of time. Yours to borrow and enjoy while you had it. I’d recommend you enjoy it, too, because once it was gone, all you’d have left were the memories.

Finally, the door swung open, and there he was—Red. He was in a simple white shirt and low-hanging gray sweatpants that made my heart skip a beat.

“Here,” I forced myself to say, shoving the ring at him.

He opened his mouth, but I stopped him, placing a hand up and shoving the ring at him for a second time. “I’ll drop it if you don’t take it.”

Holding his hand out, he opened it, and I dropped the ring in it. I couldn’t take the chance that my fingers might graze his skin. It would have been too much for me. And this was enough as it was. “Jade,” he said, and a small piece of me hoped he was going to say that he wanted me, that he wanted this.

I didn’t want to be wrong, though, so I laughed. Actually laughed. “I’m glad this is over. And all I have to say is good luck to your next victim.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. I didn’t even wait for him to process my words. I just did what was right for me and my already bruised and battered heart—I turned around and jogged in the pouring rain back to my waiting cab.

It was true that some love stories ended with a kiss, someone professing their love, and two people riding off into the sunset with the promise of forever lingering in the air long after they were gone. Unfortunately, this story wasn’t going to end that way. Not that I was surprised, and if you’d been following, you shouldn’t have been either, because I wasn’t the girl who got her happily ever after. I was the girl who had to make her own with what she had and find some version of it within herself.

And, you know what? That was okay.

Red would meet someone one day and he’d be happy. Blissfully so. Maybe I was growing as a person because that made me happy in turn. Or maybe that came with catching feelings for someone, wanting to see them happy even if it wasn’t with you.

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Reddington

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