Page 26 of The Best Worst Mistake
“Grant really didn’t give me much of a heads-up to get ready for all this though, did he? Or to budget for this type of trip, like, at all. But just tell me what I owe you and I’ll send it over Venmo or something.”
“No need,” I say, wanting to change the subject away from money.
“Let me pay for my half,” she says firmly, turning to me.
“No.”
“I insist.”
“Nope.”
“Tell me what I owe you or I’ll be forced to guess and send it over Venmo. And I wouldn’t want to hurt your man pride by guessing too low.”
I scoff.
“Jules, just the jet fuel and crew for the first leg of the flights costs more than what most people make in a year,” I say, coolly. There’s no way I’m letting her touch her bank account again for anything until we’re back on US soil, officially parting ways. It’s just not happening.
She angles her body back toward the window, sulking, staring blankly toward the rising sun.
“Doesn’t matter. My coaching business does fine, and I still have the money from the sale of the—” She pauses before finishing that sentence. “I can pay my half,” she adds defiantly.
“I know. You do very well for yourself. But just let this be my treat so we can move on.”
She grumbles something under her breath that sounds a bit likeasshole.
“I’m really proud of you, by the way. Growing that business yourself from scratch,” I tell her, trying to shift our conversation in a new direction.
A choking sound sputters out of her and she turns to face me again. “Proud? Gee, thanks, Daddy.”
I almost forgot how feisty she can be. This might be more fun than I thought.
“Okay, I’mhappyfor you then.” I correct my wording. “I know you’re killing it. I know you don’t need anything from me.”
“Correct.”
“But just let this trip be my gift to you. And to Grant. For old time’s sake.”
A blanket of silence fills the car.
There, I’ve said it out loud.Grant’s name.Successfully ripped the bandage off. Seated the elephant right here in the middle of the car. The one thing still holding us together, even though we’ve obviously drifted apart.
Finally, she nods solemnly and turns back toward the window.
“Fine,” she whispers a moment later. “You can do it for Grant.”
We ride the rest of the way to the airport, following our little truce, in silence, minus the light piano music Patrick has playing over the speakers to keep the mood cheery when it feels anything but.
While planning this trip, I took every minuscule detail into consideration, from what she might like to drink on the way to the airport to what thread count sheets she might find the most comfortable while sleeping in the bed during long flights abroad. But, the one thing I couldn’t adequately plan for was how to hedge off a broken heart. How she might show up to the car this morning with dark sunglasses on, probably from crying all night since I’m the man taking her on this trip instead of the love ofher life. I could never have planned for how she clearly doesn’t want to look at me, even as a friend.
I’ve taken care of everything I could think of to keep her comfortable and safe, but I don’t know how to take care ofthat.
So, instead of pushing her more or filling the car ride with aimless chatter that’ll probably do more harm than good, we race toward the runway without saying another word.
Meanwhile, I silently apologize for having to put her through any of this.
The torture of having to travel withme, to ride withmeinstead of Grant, doing things they talked about doing together. I get it. She hates me. I did that. But I promised my best friend that I would look after her for the next few weeks.
So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
