Once and for All(89)

“And I did it by giving him information he then threw back at you, scaring you off, and now you’re with some other guy you barely even know.”

“You were with Michael Salem after one night at a party!”

“Because he’s my true love! You barely even talk about Ben except when you’re pressuring me to make it so you don’t have to be alone with him!”

“You guys are yelling,” Crawford said.

He was right. Jilly sat back, smoothing her suit. I cleared my throat. Another kid did a cannonball. Splash.

“Not every relationship,” I said slowly after a moment, “is the hot, heavy love story. Some of them are just, you know, more mellow.”

“Mellow,” she repeated. “That’s what all those Valentines and love songs are about, for sure.”

“Why do you care so much?” I demanded. “All you wanted was for me to be back out there. I’m out. I have a boyfriend.”

“You’ll notice,” she said, “that you did not include happy in that list.”

“Ben is a great guy.”

“Not the same thing.”

I exhaled, frustrated. “You understand that most of the time I was with Ambrose, he was driving me nuts, right? That we are total opposites?”

“What I understand,” she said quietly, “is what I saw with my own eyes. He might have made you crazy. But when you were with him, there was a spark. It wasn’t ever just mellow.”

“Also we were completely wrong for each other,” I said. “That’s why it never would have worked out.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe not. And it’s that maybe that is killing me. Maybe I denied you what I have with Michael Salem. And sitting and watching you pretend you have it now with someone else . . . I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

“Come on,” I said now. “There was and is no chance for me and Ambrose. I haven’t even seen him since that night, and I’m with Ben now. I’m sure he’s moved on. You can, too. I promise.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll try,” she said. Then she sighed, loudly, as Bean crawled back over to her, pulling up on the side of her chair. “And I’ll go out with you and Ben, if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I replied, thinking how simple and easy this sounded. Just as quickly, I thought of Ambrose that first day we met, his own honest response: I hate not getting what I want. I wasn’t what he wanted, though, not really. Just a fleeting thought for a moment, I was sure, despite what Jilly said. And I wanted mellow. Or, at least, I’d take it.





CHAPTER


    25





MY MOTHER was not one to apologize unless the situation truly warranted it. In the last three minutes, by my count, she’d told me she was sorry at least five times.

“It’s just,” she continued, as I moved quickly around my room, finding my shoes and keys, “once you’ve promised clowns, you can’t really walk back from it.”

“It’s fine,” I told her again. “Just tell me where they are.”

“On the I-15 off ramp, apparently. They say you can’t miss them, as they’re—”

“—clowns,” I finished for her. “Got it. I’m on my way.”

“I’m so sorry!” she said again. “If you can just get them here, that’s all we need. Give Ben my apologies.”

“I’m not even meeting him until seven thirty,” I said, checking the clock just to be safe. It was six fifteen. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll be the one with the carful of clowns.”

“Bless you.”

Ten minutes later, I was pulling up behind a broken-down blue polka-dotted microbus where six men in jumpsuits and wigs, sporting various versions of red noses and carrying water bottles, were milling around. I unlocked my doors, they jumped in, and we headed to the Amber Dashwood reception, which was slated to begin in mere minutes at the Derby Estate across town. When we pulled up in front, William was waiting.

“Oh, thank God,” he said, as they all exited, grabbing their bags of gear. “All right, everyone, follow this path here around to the patio area and await further instructions. We’ll need you to greet arriving guests momentarily.”

The clowns took off, adjusting rainbow wigs, big shoes slapping the pavement. As we watched them go I said, “I know it’s crazy, but I kind of miss this job.”

“That’s crazy,” he said, pulling out his phone and quickly typing a text. “But if you really mean it, feel free to stick around. I’ve got a whole group of performing dogs that need to behave during the passed appetizers.”

“Dogs? I thought you guys were joking about Ira.”

“Oh, it’s not Ira,” he said. “This is a professional dog circus your mother had come in from Virginia. You should see the dancing schnauzers.”

“Wow,” I said. A couple of cars turned into the Derby Estate lot, driving slowly, obviously looking for spaces. “Looks like you have some early birds.”

“They probably didn’t even wait until the vows were done,” he grumbled, as one sedan parked, a couple in dress clothes climbing out. “I’ll never understand people who are that desperate to get to a reception. Do they not get out much?”