The Ex(24)

But I was still young and naive enough to believe that boys and girls—with their first taste of independence and college hormones raging—could be “mostly friends.” Though I resisted labeling our relationship, that’s how I chose to think of us: a friendship with benefits—nonmonogamous, at least on my part.

Then I heard rumors that Shannon Riley was showing up at Jack’s dorm regularly after dinner, asking for help with her bio assignments, even though Jack sucked at science. After spotting Jack and Shannon traipsing around campus for the umpteenth time in weeks, I told Melissa that I was looking forward to Jack’s “little dalliance” running its course.

“Why do you care?” Melissa had asked.

“Because it’s Shannon Riley. She’s loud and obnoxious and always has to be the center of attention.”

“No. I mean, Olivia, why do you care?”

“Because Jack’s going to end up hurt when Shannon decides to move on to someone else.”

Melissa had shaken her head and laughed. “No, you care because you miss him. I’ve seen you perk up when there’s a knock at the door. How you come home after seeing him like you’re all high on something. It may have happened slowly, but I’ve seen how he’s changed you. You love that boy.”

“Jack and I are good where we are.”

“You might be, but obviously he’s not. You’ve been getting all the comfort of a boyfriend, without any of the responsibility. He comes when you call him, holds your hair when you’re sick, and puts up with your shit. Meanwhile, you get to go on with your business. Honestly, I don’t blame him for moving on. And you better watch out, because if I had to guess, once Shannon has him locked down, he’ll stay that way for a long, long time. If you want him, you better take him.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Melissa was right: I hadn’t been looking for a relationship, and I may have been telling myself that Jack wasn’t my type, but I didn’t want to lose him. The next morning, I purposely bumped into him leaving the dining hall. On the way home, I got around to congratulating him on his new relationship.

“Oh, I guess you heard about that. Does it bother you?”

“Yeah, I don’t like it. I miss seeing you.” He stopped walking and turned me to face him. I couldn’t believe how happy he looked.

“Oh my God, you’re actually turning pink. Olivia Randall is blushing. Why are you embarrassed?”

I have no idea how bungled my answer was, but I remember telling him about Valentine’s Day when I was nine years old. My mother asked me why I didn’t want to give a special card to one of the boys at school. I told her that feelings were gross. It was a conversation Jack and I would revisit many times in the years that would follow. What I had been trying to say to him was that, even at nine, I understood that feelings were what kept my mother with my father: Olivia, don’t you see that I love him? Feelings led you to make bad decisions.

“And what bad decisions are your feelings for me leading you to?” Jack and I were standing in the center of the South Lawn, and I felt like everyone was looking at us.

I shrugged.

“But you’re saying you don’t want me to see Shannon anymore?”

“Right.”

There was an obvious next question, but he never posed it. Instead, he just kissed me. And when he took me back to his room, everything felt different. It was tender and loving, sober and unrushed. It felt absolutely pure.

For the next two weeks, we were as inseparable as two college students living with roommates could be. And then Jack showed up banging on my door when his father died. We may have fallen in love slowly, but being at his side in the days that followed pushed our relationship into hyperspeed. I met his aunt, uncle, and brother. I helped him and Owen select the urn. I missed a week of classes to get the house ready for the estate sale. I was there when the lawyer broke the news about the finances. I was the one who met with the realtor because they couldn’t bring themselves to set a price.

Charlotte, Jack, and Owen may have grown up as the three musketeers, but the four of us became adults together. Even though Owen wasn’t on campus, he saw us at least twice a week. By the beginning of junior year, Jack had poured his grief into writing, publishing a story about his father in the university’s literary magazine. With the encouragement of two professors who believed he had “real talent,” he was even working on a book proposal to submit to agents. Owen found a second family in the police department. Charlotte started to use her family’s wealth for something more than frolicking. Even I had found a silver lining in the aftermath of Jack’s father’s death: apparently what my mother always called my “cyborg” responses to emotion might make me a good lawyer. I liked feeling needed.

For the first three years, Jack and I were happy. Being with him felt easy and safe, the way I always thought relationships should be but never were. But I should have known that a fear of losing someone was not the best reason to kick off a serious relationship. Because five years later, it was me—not Shannon Riley—who broke Jack’s heart.


WE GOT ENGAGED GRADUATION WEEKEND, but didn’t set a date. We didn’t need to. We agreed that I needed to finish law school first. For the time being, our change in status was only a word and a ring.

While I jumped into my studies, Jack fiddled around with stories that he never seemed to finish. He went to classes to get his teacher’s certification. He even started to check out hotel ballrooms for our wedding.