Page 110 of A Very Merry Mistake

“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute,” Hank says, getting up. I glare at him, and he shrugs. If I could kick his ass right now, I would. When I get the chance to get him back, I will, without hesitation.

Lacy sits next to me on the log, and I stare at the fire. There are a thousand other people I wish were beside me other than her.

“I just want to talk to you,” she finally says, her voice softening. “Can you at least look at me?”

I do, and I feel nothing. No love, but no hate, either. It’s indifference, like she’s a stranger. She smiles, but I don’t return the gesture.

“I’m sorry I was the one who told you about Claire,” she offers.

My eyes move back to the flames.

“Yes, I wanted her gone,” she continues.

“Why?” I glance at her. “Because you were jealous?”

“Yes,” she says. “When I saw you with someone else, I realized I wanted you back.”

“I’m not doing this, Lacy,” I tell her. “Not here. Not ever. I promised myself that if you ever wanted me again, I wouldn’t fall for it. And it’s a promise I plan on keeping.”

“People make mistakes,” she says, but I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince.

All of my life, I’ve been too forgiving, too willing to accept those who hurt me. Lacy and I broke up once before the engagement debacle. Then, after a month, she told me she had made a mistake. I took her back with open arms and pretended it was water under the bridge. She told me she was afraid of commitment. Two years later, I proposed when I shouldn’t have. That one decision would have saved me a lot of heartache and disappointment. Then again, not picking Claire up while she was walking into Merryville would have, too. It’s funny with some perspective how one decision can change a person’s entire life.

She repeats herself as if I didn’t hear her the first time. “You should forgive people for their mistakes. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Not mistakes like that.” I take a swig from the flask.

“Would you forgive her if she came back?”

I think about the question. “I’m not sure. But it’s not the same.”

“That woman you love came here to destroy your entire family and many of the locals’ livelihoods. With all of that, you still believe what I did is worse?”

I look around to see most people have left the area. There’s a couple across the way making out, and a few teenagers in the back that I’m pretty sure are passing a flask around, too.

Lacy scoots closer to me and places her palm on my face, forcing me to look at her. She moves close, and I’m so shocked at her boldness that I’m nearly frozen as she presses her lips against mine.

“No,” I say, standing up. My gigantic shadow dances on the ground behind her, animated by the flames from the fire.

“I still love you,” she urges, standing, too.

“You don’t. The only reason you think that is because you’re afraid I’ll move on after seeing me happy with someone else. And I have moved on, Lacy. There was a time when I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, a time when you were my world and you owned my heart. I loved you so damn much that I threw a party and got down on my knee and proposed. You laughed in my face and told me no in front of everyone. I’m tired of being the man people talk about in town, and that never happened until I met you. I see you for who you are. I wish you the absolute best. But that best doesn’t include me.”

“Jake,” she whines.

“Just because I’m alone now doesn’t mean I’m saving space for you. I’m not. And I’m not apologizing for that, either. Now, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. Please leave me alone. It’s the last time I’ll ask.”

“Fine. The next time I see you, I’m going to pretend like you don’t exist,” she retorts.

“Please do,” I say, and she gasps like I slapped her. Then she walks away, pretending to cry.

That might work on everyone else, but not me. I saw no tears and never have when she pulled that trick out of the hat.

“Good riddance,” I say, wiping my mouth on the back of my jacket, then I take a seat.

My paper is still blank, and I think about the word that I’ll write on it. Loneliness is the only thing that comes to mind. I scribble it across the page, fold it into a paper airplane, and let it soar into the fire. The tip catches first, and then the wings. I watch as it burns to ash.

A cool breeze blows, and I let out a deep breath. My life has been a whirlwind of emotions.

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