Sway (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Gage didn’t seem to understand the words “no,” and “I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t stop texting and calling. He even came to the house a couple of times but luckily, I was never there when he did. When my phone rang for the umpteenth time, I gave it only a cursory glance, then realized it wasn’t Gage’s number after all. It was a text from Mari.

Mari:
Guess what?

Me:
Charlie left u for a character from Final Fantasy?

Mari:
Ha. Ha.

Mari:
Lacey’s getting married!!!

I stopped breathing.

Mari:
U have to come dress shopping with me. I want to look hotter than the bride.

Mari:
U there?

Mari:
Hello?

Mari:
I know ur there. U don’t have anything better 2 do.

Another text popped up but I ignored it and turned off my ringer. I didn’t want to hear any more.

It was official then. Eric and Lacey were getting married.

I wanted to do something. Scream, cry, vomit. Anything to release the emotions boiling inside me. Thunder boomed in my chest, lightning streaked through my limbs. I ached and I wanted to get rid of it, once and for all.

I changed into my bathing suit and ran outside. I struggled through the sand, each step heavier than the last. I needed to feel lighter. I needed to shed Eric from my entire being.

Once I reached the ocean, I didn’t stop. My body tingled even though the water wasn’t cold. I kept walking, submerging my ankles, my knees, my stomach, my shoulders. My head went under last.

Under the water, I clenched my hands into fists. I coiled my body into a ball, my face pressed into my knees. I tried to squeeze all emotion out of me. A second later, I felt myself float to the surface.

My head broke the stillness and water dripped down my face. But it wasn’t only water. Tears mixed with the saltwater as I stood there in the ocean. Alone. Like some mermaid who had just watched her human love disappear. Eric was gone from me forever and now I had no choice but to go back to where I came from.

* * * * *

When I reentered the house, shivering despite the heat of the day, Beth pounced on me.

“What happened between you and Gage?”

“We broke up.”

“Ha. I knew it,” she said.

My eyebrows rose. “Did he tell you?”

“Shelby told me.” She waved that tidbit away. “But what happened?”

I didn’t know how Shelby knew, but I didn’t care. I tightened the towel around myself and started to walk away. Beth followed.

“Come on,” Beth said, her tone wheedling. “I’m your sister. We share secrets, right?”

I stopped in my tracks. “Since
when
?”

“Since now.” Her face took on a soft look that I had never seen directed my way before.

“You have Shelby for that.”

“She’s getting on my nerves.” I shot her a look. “What? It’s true. She’s so whiny all the time. And she’s been acting weird lately.” Looked like I was right. The best friend swap was coming soon.

“Weird how?”

“Uh uh. Not until you tell me what happened. I hate when Shelby thinks she knows more than me.”

I sighed. There wasn’t much to tell. “I broke up with him. At the party.” My answer given, I headed up the stairs to my bedroom.

Beth followed. “Why?”

“Why do you care?” I shot over my shoulder. She didn’t answer. In the hallway, I spun to face her. “You want him for yourself? Is that it?” Her expression became guarded. I softened my voice. “Go ahead. He’s a nice guy and all, seriously. I just wasn’t feeling it.”

“Are you insane?” Beth asked, her voice rising. “Gage is super hot! And he’s an actor. He’s going to be on HBO! I swear, Ava, I just don’t get you.”

Beth and I had never gotten each other, that was the problem. “Why don’t you go for it?”

She hesitated. “Really? You won’t care?”

I gaped. “Would you really stop yourself if I did?”

“Don’t do that to your face, Ava, you’ll make wrinkles.” I snapped my mouth shut. “Maybe I’d go for him anyway. Maybe not.” She smirked. “You’ll never know.”

“Well, I don’t care. He’s all yours.”

Before I closed my bedroom door, I could have sworn I heard my sister actually say, “Thanks.”

* * * * *

Even though it had been over two months since I left New York, I felt like my life was finally starting over. I had a job to look forward to, and I was about to find my own apartment. A place where I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Lacey and Eric together. A place that Gage wouldn’t barge into every other day. A home, just for me.

However, after dragging Lexi through building after building, my confidence began to deflate. The apartments were either too small, too dingy or too expensive.

“This place is nice,” Lexi said on our twelfth try. It was two-stories, the units tall but narrow. Wrought iron gates divided each apartment but a small plot of grass with a stone path welcomed us in.

“It’s going to be too expensive, I can feel it.”

The agent let us in the front door. The foyer was cramped, but clean. We stepped onto scuffed wooden floorboards. They had a worn-in antique look that I liked. To the left, a sunny kitchen beckoned.

“There’s decent cupboard space,” I said. The agent went outside to get out of our way, just how I liked it.

“Are you okay?”

I jumped. Lexi was right behind me.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you just broke up with your boyfriend?”

I let out a laugh. As usual, Lexi shot straight to the point. “Yeah. I’m fine about that.”

Lexi leaned against the laminate countertop. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. It means I’m fine.”

“No, you said you were fine about
that
.”

“So?” I peered out the window into the front yard. A bench rested in one corner, a box of flowers sat below the window frame. It wasn’t grand, but I thought it had charm.

“So that means there’s something you’re not fine about,” Lexi said.

I left the kitchen and headed to the main living room. The walls were such a bright yellow they were almost blinding. I’d definitely paint over that—maybe a medium grey.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

The hurt in Lexi’s voice was plain. I sighed. “There’s really no point in talking about it because there’s nothing I can do.”

“This is about Eric, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well.”

A couch rested against one wall and she pulled me onto it. “You finally realize that you still love him.”

“Yes.”

“But he’s with Lacey.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to say anything to him? Fight for him?”

“They’re getting married.” Closing my eyes, I pictured Lacey in a beautiful white gown gliding up the aisle toward Eric.

“Already? How do you know?”

“Mari told me.” I rested my head on her shoulder.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

The real estate agent found us a half hour later, still on the couch, Lexi’s arms wrapped around me.

* * * * *

The agent negotiated with the owners for a lower price. I called the bank to set up an appointment. I went over the rental agreement and asked the school for proof of employment. Even though my mind was occupied with details and to-do lists, Eric still rested somewhere inside, unshakeable. Like he was sitting on a recliner at the back of my mind waiting patiently for me to think of him again.

Mari texted again and again, but I didn’t open them. When Gage called, I almost answered. He’d be an easy distraction. My finger hovered over the ‘talk’ button, but eventually the song died out. It was just as well. Gage was a distraction, not a solution. I threw my phone on my bed and began to pace.

Eric had moved on. He was in love with someone else. Wooden floorboards creaked under my feet as I circled my Malibu bedroom. Even if I apologized for eight years ago, confessed my renewed love for him, he’d never listen. And it wouldn’t be fair at all to Lacey.

A photo of Eric and I grinning stopped me in my tracks. My heart pounded painfully in my chest. I turned away from the photo and toward the picture of my mom on the wall. If she was here, what advice would she give me?

There was no way to know. It was well past time for me to stop relying on others, to make my own decisions. My feet resumed their path along the floorboards.

It was difficult for me to let go. My heart said he belonged to me, while my brain countered with a loud,
don’t be ridiculous
.

The problem was, I’d never had any closure. My last conversation with Eric eight years ago had been abrupt, our ending even more so. We’d been together for three years, and friends a year before that. In one moment it was all over. I’d lost my fiancé, my love, my best friend, all of it in just a few painful minutes.

My pacing broke off once again.

Eric was getting married—end of story, end of song, end of symphony. The only way to make peace with that was to find the closure I lacked. There was only one way to get it. I still had something of Eric’s, and it was time to give it back.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Two jewelry boxes sat atop the dresser in my Malibu bedroom. One was made of dark brown wood and looked like a mini-wardrobe with drawers and pull-out cupboard doors. It held most of my daily jewelry. The other was smaller; a silver box decorated in the Art Nouveau style with swirling flowers and leaf detailing. It held my real treasures, pieces that were valuable to me. A ring with my birthstone I received when I was born. A necklace made of natural pearls from Aunt Rose when I graduated high school. A diamond bracelet from Dad for my sweet sixteen. The box also contained a few pieces that were my mother’s—pieces I never wore but kept because they reminded me of her.

Something else lay at the bottom of the box, buried underneath my other treasures. Something that didn’t belong to me anymore, hadn’t belonged to me from the moment we broke up.

For a few minutes I stood frozen, staring at the ring. I was afraid to touch it, like it could burn my finger or an evil eye might appear in its gold band.

With trembling fingers, I reached in and pinched the ring between my fingers. I brought it to my face, mesmerized by the blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds. It had been so long since I’d looked at it.

I slipped it onto my ring finger, held my hand out, letting myself admire its beauty one last time. Almost at once, my mind flooded with a memory—one so tangible that if I reached out, I might be able to wrap my fingers around it and either clutch it to myself, or squeeze it to dust.

* * * * *

Eric and I had been lying on the beach outside my Malibu house. It was a week after graduation and Dad, Beth and Mari had gone to Greece for a month. Aunt Rose managed to convince Dad to let me stay home so I could get a job. That was back before she knew how attached Eric and I were to each other. That would come a few weeks later.

The time alone was heaven for Eric and me. There was no one to bug us, to disapprove, to pointedly ignore us. Aunt Rose stopped by every once in a while, but otherwise we were alone, and it felt like we had all the time in the world.

That day, we drove to Malibu so we could take advantage of the privacy of the beach just outside my doorstep. We didn’t do anything momentous. We swam, we read, we listened to music—things people usually do at the beach. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to give me a hint of what would come.

Even as the sun began to set, we didn’t leave. The weather had cooled—it was finally not so hot that we had to drench ourselves in the water every ten minutes to cool off. Two portable lanterns provided enough light so I could keep reading. The iPod I’d given to Eric for graduation blared music from his mini-speakers and he pounded his fists on his knees to a punk song.

I put my book aside and scooted to the edge of my towel. I picked up some sand and sifted it through my fingers. “Have you ever thought about doing this?” I asked.

He arched a brow. “Building a sand castle?”

I pursed my lips. “No, this.” I pointed to the iPod.

“Working for Apple?” He laughed when I huffed. “You mean a punk band, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve thought about it.” Eric stared ahead of him at the ocean stretching on to forever. “It wouldn’t work though.”

I piled the sand into a little hill in front of me. “Why not?”

He sang a few bars of the Green Day song then stopped, shaking his head. “See? It just doesn’t fit.”

I scrunched my mouth to the side. “You’re right, you do sound kinda funny.”

“I guess I’ll never be a rock star.”

“Do you want to be a rock star?”

“Not really.”

I gaped at him, sand running through my fingers in streams. He was always so confident. So sure that everything was the way it was supposed to be and everything would work out the way he wanted it to.

“Most musicians dream of being a rock star,” I said.

“Not me.” He sat up and stretched his legs on either side of the beach chair. “I’m retro to my soul. I was born in the wrong time.”

“Sixth member of the Rat Pack?”

“Exactly.” His eyes took on a gleam. “I should’ve been born in the twenties. New York. I would’ve worked the club scene, started off small. And then some record producer would hear of my amazing talent, come to the club to hear me, and
bam
!” He slapped his hand on the chair. “I’m bigger than Frank Sinatra. In fact, maybe I would have beaten him to it. Eric Wentworth, the leader of the Rat Pack. Eric Wentworth—winner of eleven Grammys, and an Academy Award. Eric Wentworth—married to Ava Gardner.”

“You’d trade me for the original Ava?” I shot him an indignant look. “Not cool.”

He laughed. I threw sand at him.

“Seriously, though.” He straightened his face. “I don’t care much about the Academy Award.”

I threw more sand at him.

“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands in defeat. “I wouldn’t marry Ava Gardner.”

“If you were born then, you’d have to figure out a way to take me with you.”

Getting up from the chair, he settled himself behind me on the towel, his legs on either side of me, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“That’s not your time,” he said, his breath close to my ear.

I settled my hands on his knees. “What do you mean?”

“You were born in the wrong time too, but you weren’t meant for the twentieth century.”

“When was I meant for then?”

“Early eighteen-hundreds.” He moved his hands from my waist to my legs, running his fingers over my bare skin. “You would’ve worn beautiful dresses and read every book you could get your hands on. You would go to fancy parties and play the piano and impress the neighbors.”

“Pianoforte,” I whispered.

He ignored the interruption. “You could play Schubert all day with no one to stop you.”

I frowned. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Ava, you’re good for everything. You could do anything, I know you could.” His fingers went to my cheek, tilting my head toward him. “But that’s how I see you happiest. Taking pleasure out of the things you love most. I know you. And you’d be happy then.”

I turned my face away. He was right. I’d never had grand dreams for myself. I didn’t want to change the world, invent something new or become famous. I just wanted to live. I wanted to read good books, listen to amazing music, play the piano—just like he said. And I did have a weakness for beautiful clothes.

“I think I’d miss indoor plumbing too much.”

He buried his face into my back and I could feel his laugh resonate through my skin. His fingers played with the ties on my bikini.

“You’re forgetting something though.”

Eric lifted his head. “What?”

“You.” I leaned my head back, resting it against his chest. “If I’m going to be my happiest, you’d have to be there.”

“Those frilly neck scarves wouldn’t be a good look for me.”

“What? You’d totally rock the cravat.”

“I can’t believe you know what it’s called.”

I laughed then gasped as his face buried into my neck. He pressed his lips against my skin and I let out a small sigh.

He drew back. “The truth is—” He stopped and stood up suddenly. My heart froze at the frown now darkening his face. He went to the iPod, pausing Michael Jackson in mid-belt. His thumb scrolled through until he found what he was looking for. The light pounding notes of a double bass resonated through the portable speakers, joined by a saxophone. After four measures, Harry Connick, Jr. began to sing.

Eric returned to me and held out his hand, lifting me from the ground. He wrapped one hand around my waist. We swayed to the music, our feet shuffling in the sand.

“The truth is, I wouldn’t want to be in any other time without you.”

Looking up at him, at the colors of the fading sun shadowing his face, my breath stopped. “Me neither.”

“I couldn’t be anywhere without you, Ava.” He moved his hand from my waist to my hair, my neck, finally settling on my cheek. “I refuse to be anywhere if you’re not there.”

My lips parted. My whole body felt flushed. He brought his other hand to my face and leaned in. “I love you, so much.”

I tingled at his words, as new to me then as they were the first time. “I love you too,” I said as his lips neared mine.

“Then marry me.”

I saw his mouth form the words, I heard his voice, I even felt his breath touch lightly over my face. But I didn’t understand.

Eric leaned his head back and studied my face. His eyes sparkled. “Marry me, Ava,” he said again. “Marry me.”

“Really?” It was the only word my lips would form. Even though I loved Eric, even though I figured we’d be together always, I never imagined he’d propose. Not then. Not so soon.

My question brought a smile to his lips. “Yes, really.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I will never want anyone else but you. So marry me. Stay with me forever.”

I closed my eyes and said the only answer possible.

“Yes.”

We continued to dance, spinning in a slow circle, the sand like clouds against our feet while Harry Connick, Jr., the saxophone and the double bass wove through the air, the soundtrack to the start of our life.