Page 87 of The Problem with Perfect

“Okay.” I pause and lean forward, lowering my voice. “The hype is real.” Then I pull back and begin wiping down the counter.

“What?! That’s all you’re going to say?” she cries out, drawing the attention of the last few people in the bar over at a table in the corner. She shifts closer and lowers her voice. “You’re giving me less than I already knew.”

I shrug. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Emily yanks the rag out of my hand and chucks it atmyface, and then the two of us break into peals of laughter.

When I crawl into bed later that night, I replay our conversation, glad I decided to tell Emily the truth about me and Rusty. I’ve spent so much of my life carrying my own burdens, keeping my internal struggles to myself, always serving as the sounding board for everyone I know but never willing to seek that when I need it. There’s something relieving about opening up, like by sharing, I’ve found a new kind of depth to some of my relationships that I didn’t have before. Truthfully, I have Rusty to thank for that.

I think back to that night when we talked on the phone as I lay on the dock and I opened up to him, when I shared my conflicted feelings about Stace. It was like he cracked a hole in the dam inside of me, and throughout our time together, it grew and grew until it became a flood.

I curl onto my side and tuck a pillow against my chest. I’m afraid.

Afraid Rusty is going to push me away.

Afraid he won’t be willing to fight for us.

Afraid all we will be to each other is a memory.

chaptertwenty-four

Rusty

When Jackson asks me if I want to BBQ together and watch the A’s game on Monday evening, I instantly know something is up. I love my friend and there have been many days when we’ve watched sports and drank beer and eaten good food, but he’s been a bit of a ghost ever since he started dating Abby. He’s around for work stuff, and I see him at family dinners on Tuesdays. We supposedly live together—his bedroom door is right across from mine—but I can count on one hand the number of nights he has slept here, let alone was just at home for us to hang out.

At first I wonder if he’s caught wind of what’s going on with Bellamy and wants to chime in with his two cents. Then I think maybe there’s something up with the business that he thinks we should talk about in a casual setting. All I know for sure is he’s jittery when he shows up, and we’ve barely gotten the burgers onto the grill when he blurts it out.

“I want to ask Abby to marry me.”

I stare at him, surprise likely coloring every single line on my face.

“I know it’s soon—”

“It’s very soon,” I say sternly.

“—but I’m crazy about her. I love her more than life itself, and I know that’s never going to change.”

I don’t doubt Jackson loves my sister. I see it constantly in how he talks to her, how he treats her, how he thinks of her in everything he does—but that doesn’t mean he needs to ask her to marry him.

“What’s the rush?”

He crosses his arms and leans back against the railing on the small deck off the living room.

“If you love her more than life and you know that’s never going to change, what’s the hurry?”

This look crosses his face , one I’ve never seen on my friend before, and as cliché as it sounds, I swear he’s glowing, like he can’t wait to tell me.

“Because loving someone so much you want to spend the rest of your life with them is a kind of love you don’t just keep to yourself. It’s meant to be shared, and I want to share that with her so she knows just how deep my love for her goes.”

I swallow thickly, my eyes dropping to the burgers sizzling on the grill. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with an emotion I wasn’t expecting.

“I know when I first started dating Abby, you told me you don’t get to have an opinion on who she wants to be with. But I’m going to ask you anyway, because you’re the most important man in her life.” He pauses, and I see his eyes gloss over. “Rusty, I’d like your blessing to marry your sister.”

My chest constricts and then explodes, the love I have for Jackson growing in ways I didn’t know was possible. I’m at a loss for words, and I feel bad, looking out to the trees in the distance, knowing I’m keeping him hanging. I want to make sure when I say whatever I say next, I say it right.

“You love my sister with a depth that makes me proud to know you,” I tell him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Of course you have my blessing.”

Jackson tugs me in and we embrace, each of us overwhelmed by the moment. Something passes between us—a knowledge that we’re going to be more than just friends. We’re going to be brothers.

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