Page 119 of Thoroughly Pucked

“Same time,” Ledger says, then hands me the prickly cactus in a small terracotta pot. “Until then.”

“Next year,” Dev adds, then gives me the postcard. From Vancouver.

It’s my turn. The invitation is in my court. The offeris big and beautiful and simple. A postcard, a plant, and a promise.

Something from each of my guys. Like I could forget them in a year. “It’s on my calendar,” I say, then tap my temple.

They start to leave, to head down the street, but I set the postcard and the plant on the stoop and catch up with them.

I grab Ledger’s face and plant a quick, firm kiss on his lips.

Then Dev’s, doing the same.

I turn around and go inside on a promise, with a postcard and a plant.

I’m still alone, but I don’t quite feel so lonely anymore.

51

MAN-BATICAL

Aubrey

One month later…

“It’s been thirty days,” I say to Elena, who’s sitting serenely in a purple chair, a painting of a snow-covered cabin behind her.

“Not that you’re counting,” she says playfully, and I like that she’s not all serious all the time. She knows when to poke fun.

“Just a little bit,” I say, but old habits die hard. I’m not entirely being clear, and I know I need to be.

She turns more serious. “But are you?”

“I’m not counting what you think I’m counting,” I admit.

She knits her brow. “Oh. I thought you were saying that’s how long it’s been since you saw the guys.”

“It has been,” I say, but we’ve kept in touch. I’ve texted, sending them ideas for our champagne line, like We All Hated Him Anyway, and suggestions on new holidays for Dev, like National Arugula Day, and videos for Ledger like “How to charm your cat and other impossible tasks.”

But I’mnotcounting down to our date next year.

Really, what Elena and I have worked on iswhyI felt compelled to marry someone I didn’t really love because I thought it would make someone else happy.

That someone else isn’t here anymore.

And it’s been thirty days since I started to let go of the idea that I should keep trying to make him happy—especially when it’s not what I want.

I swallow past the guilt and the shame. “I think I should say something to my mom.”

Elena’s smile is pleased, proud even. “That’s your countdown?”

I let out a big breath. “Yes. I think that’s what I’ve been working through with you. And I needed to really understand what to say to her, and whatnotto say. I don’t think she needs to know all the burdens she and my dad placed on me, whether inadvertently or not.”

Elena shakes her head. “Probably not. That’s lovely of you to think of her emotional health.”

“She misses her husband still. I don’t want to saythis fucked me up when I was younger.”

Elena nods, tucking a strand of silvery hair behind her ear. “That’s a gift, in a way—to know what needs to be said and what needs to be left unsaid.”

---