The Birthday List(60)
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded as the tears started to fall.
“Don’t cry.” My plea did nothing, but then again, Aly had always been a crier. Whenever Mom or my sister or Poppy cried, it damn near broke my heart. Aly’s tears, on the other hand, had stopped bothering me a year ago—partly because she used them for manipulation, partly because she never tried to fight them back.
One of the reasons I admired the hell out of Poppy was because she worked so hard not to cry. And when she did? Shit was bad.
But still, I didn’t want Aly to cry. I didn’t want to cause her pain.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
She nodded, reaching up to swipe a tear away. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
“We just—we wouldn’t have made it. I think deep down, you know that’s true.”
“Do I?” She looked into the restaurant and sniffled. “And what about her? Do you think you two will make it? Or are you going to do to her what you did to me? Make her fall in love with you and not even try to fall back.”
“Aly,” I whispered. “I did try.” I’d tried for two damn years to say I love you, but it just hadn’t been there.
Her chin quivered as she swiped at another tear. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you tonight. And with her. It was a shock.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She looked up to me with wet, pleading eyes as she leaned closer. “I really miss you.” Her hand lifted between us, but before she could touch my chest, I took a step back.
“I can’t touch you now?” Anger flashed in her teary eyes.
“No.” The only woman whose hand belonged over my heart was inside.
With a murderous scowl, Aly spun on her heel and rushed to her car, then raced out of the parking lot.
“Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my jaw.
In time, I hoped Aly would find the guy for her. That she’d find the guy who’d give her his heart. It just wasn’t me.
Through the restaurant’s windows, I saw that Poppy had come back out to the counter. She was trying not to spy, but her eyes kept straying out front, searching for Aly. I hustled back inside and went right to the counter.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Ex-girlfriend, I’m guessing?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Aly and I dated for a couple of years but broke up earlier this summer.”
“Was it serious?”
“For her,” I admitted. “We lived together for a while, but . . . it wasn’t right. I finally ended it, but not before she got hurt.” Not before she’d told me she’d loved me countless times and I hadn’t said it back.
I tapped the newspaper we’d been looking at when Aly had come in. “Do you want to call either of these?”
“I’m not crazy about them. I think I’ll just sit tight for a while.”
“Okay. Let me know what I can do to help.”
“Actually, there is something.” She was unsuccessfully fighting a smile. “I went to three grocery stores earlier and bought each of them out of green Jell-O. Every single pan and pot and bowl I could find is currently in my walk-in filled with Jell-O.”
I wasn’t taking the bait. “Good for you.”
Poppy had been trying to talk me into doing the Jell-O pool thing with her for the last couple of weeks, but I fucking hated Jell-O. The texture made me gag. The taste was awful. The idea of rolling around in a pool full of it? Not a chance in hell unless she was drowning in it and I had to drag her out.
I’d promised to help her with Jamie’s list, but this was one of the two things where I’d drawn a line. I wasn’t going to let her pull a damn fire alarm, and I wasn’t getting in a pool of green Jell-O.
“Please?” Poppy gave me her best puppy-dog eyes.
Damn it. It was just Jell-O. I could probably make the sacrifice. If it made her happy, I could probably do it. If I kept my eyes closed and just got in real fast.
I was about to cave when she muttered, “Fine. I’ll do it myself. Tonight, I guess. The Jell-O is made and I might as well get it over with.”
“Did you get the pool?”
“No, not yet. I was going to duck out early and let Helen close so I could buy one.”
“I’ll get your pool.” I stood up and pulled my keys from my jeans pocket. “You finish up here and I’ll come back to collect you and your,” I grimaced, “Jell-O. Would you care if we did this at my place? It’s closer.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” Her face flooded with relief—a whole wave of it. Much more than saving ten minutes on a drive should warrant.
Was this why she wanted to move? Because she didn’t want me in her house?
I kept the questions to myself as I waved good-bye, left the restaurant and went to a place I hated nearly as much as I hated Jell-O.
Walmart.
A couple hours later, I’d bought her a kiddie pool and taken two trips from the restaurant to haul over a shitload of green Jell-O. Then—gagging the entire time—I’d filled her pool with that damn neon gelatin and used a shovel to break it into small chunks.
By the time she’d finished up at the restaurant and come over, the sun was starting to set. We skipped the house tour and I shuffled her straight to the backyard.