Page 2 of Any Cowboy of Mine
“Yep. Seems I was one of the proud few invited to what Paige told me will be the ‘party of the season.’”
“Shoot. You already got that?” Was that a crack in her veneer?
“Did you mail it by mistake? I didn’t think you knew any other ‘Bradley Connors.’”
“Bradley,” she said, the serious tone and use of his full given name indicating a level of seriousness he just couldn’t commit to.
“Julia,” he countered. He tried not to let his smile percolate into the conversation. He passed Steve’s Garage and waved to the kid Steve had hired to do the opening shift a few months ago. He’d been the most reliable and naturally talented teenager Steve had taken on—clearly the boy had found his calling. He waved back enthusiastically, one of the reasons Brad liked him—no one but him seemed to enjoy early mornings in an open bay during a Montana winter.
“I was calling to tell you congratulations. I just heard about the movie deal and all that. You must be so happy.”
“I am. It’s been a good year. You know, besides the obvious.”
“Yeah. I can see that.” She’d screwed it up just before she got what she wanted—the notoriety of being married to a famous author, the invites to all the red-carpet events he’d been getting and going to alone. Per usual, Jules hadn’t been willing to wait for the payout at the end.
“I also called to tell you that Chris and I would really love to have you at the wedding. It wasn’t just a pity invite.”
This time, Brad didn’t try to hide his laughter. “Wow,” he said. “Just like we all planned, huh?” She sighed on the other end. Years of seeing her make that particular sound in person told him her fingers were pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut.
He knew her so well. Too well.
That was the problem when they’d broken up. It wasn’t just that the future he’d imagined for himself was dashed. It was more that he’d have to start over, tell someone new his favorite foods, the vacation spots he had on his bucket list, what he wanted to do with his career. And that was just the start. It would be years until he would be comfortable enough with someone to pee with the door open, to sit quietly in the passenger seat of the car on a long drive. All those small comforts that he’d built with Julia were gone, and if he wanted them back—which was a conversation he didn’t feel like having with himself just yet—he had to put in the work with the same lack of a guarantee that all that work would pay off.
Out there in the world was a woman he’d already built a life with. He was still picking up the pieces of that destruction. That was the hardest part of the breakup to live with—that she knew Brad before the fame and good fortune had blown his way.
“Brad, I’m sorry. I didn’t plan this,” she started, and he tuned out. She sure didn’t just magically keep showing up at Chris’s house for six months when she was on her way home to Brad. There was, maybe not in the beginning, but definitely after that first meet up, aplan. He tuned back to hear the end of her obviously scripted speech, “…and we just both still absolutely love you and couldn’t imagine getting married without you there. You just have to come.”
That was it. He would have loved to be the bigger person, but he couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Jules, that’s a nice sentiment, but it seems kinda bitchy to say you couldn’t imagine me not being there. I wassupposedto be the one on the other end of the altar waiting for you. But I was always waiting for you, wasn’t I? Waiting for you to be ready, for your career to take off, then for a break in your career so you could plan a wedding. Turns out, the whole time you were waiting for me to turn into someone else.”
“That’s not fair,” she said, softly. He pushed the image of her pouty bottom lip from his mind, determined not to be manipulated by it, or her, anymore.
“No, it’s not, is it? This whole thing sucks, but it’syourlife,yourchoices that got us here, so I hate to be the one to break it to you, Jules, butyou’vegotta live with the consequences.”
“Don’t you think I am?” she asked. He almost laughed out loud again when he recognized her fake-crying voice, the one she used when she wasn’t with him, where he could call her on it.
“No, I don’t think you’ve dealt with anything. You still got what you wanted. A wedding, to be the center of everything, and a groom who doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.” That was a low blow, hitting her below the belt, but he no longer cared. “Just one question, Jules.” When she didn’t answer, he took that as his cue to continue. “Why Christmas? That was our day.” He was breaking every rule he’d made after their breakup to not let her see how much she’d crushed him, but he couldn’t hide it anymore.
“It still felt right, to honor what you and I had, what led to this,” she said. Brad could feel his heartbeat in his fingers, they were so tightly clamped on the steering wheel.
“That’s a load of bull,” he said. “You moved on like nothing ever happened, except a change in the guy standing at the end of it all. Well, I can’t give you an answer on whether or not I’ll come, but Jules, I hope to God he makes you happy, that he was worth all this.”
Brad pressed the “End Call” button on the screen and the music resumed, filling the extended cab of his truck.
As he drove, he noted how many of the places in Banberry dripped with memories of Julia and him, or his and Chris’s friendship. The diner, Jules and Verne’s, hosted Brad and Julia’s first date freshman year of high school—and had led to his first kiss as well. Mitch Davenport’s hardware store was where Brad and Chris had worked through senior year. Brad had taken a second job at the library, more his speed, but he’d cherished the time with Chris, pulling pranks and practical jokes on each other between customers, waiting for Julia to drop off his favorite mint Oreo milkshake near closing, walk him to his car after his shift, kiss him passionately against his mom’s ’94 Passat.
It was impossible to escape their ghosts, and though they haunted him everywhere he went, Brad was more worried about running into their corporeal forms in town. This town would never not be theirs.
It still didn’t answer the question of whether he should go to the wedding. God, he wanted to so he could see them off, then cut the ties that bound them all from childhood. It was also too small a town for him not to go. The hushed whispers at the bar would be about him, what he’d be doing that night instead, how depressed he must be, questions about whether he’d ever move on like the lead protagonist in his novel series hadn’t. If he surprised the town by showing up, he could stymie the gossip at least for that night, after which, he hoped everyone else would move on as well.
A car slowed in front of him and he slammed on his brakes, barely focused on the road.
I can’t believe I’m considering this.
Before he made any firm decisions, though, he’d do a lot more thinking, probably over a six-pack of beer. But before that, he had a long day at the public library. He figured since that’s where he cranked out the meager beginnings of his stories on their old PCs during slow hours—that he owed them.
The library was a nice environment to give back to his community for a few hours a week. He was still around his other great love, books, and it had the added bonus of avoiding his folks’ questions about him and Julia.
