“Hang on,” I said, picking up the wine bottle that I’d set on the coffee table when we first sat. “I’m the only one without a drink in my hand, and I could use one for this conversation.”
The girls laughed as I got up and went to the kitchen for a wine glass. Obviously, nonalcoholic wine wouldn’t do whatever real wine would for me in this situation, but still. I wanted the prop. I wanted the wine glass to hide behind. And I wanted the time and space to think about how I felt that night without their watchful gazes on me.
I pulled out a bulbous glass from a high cabinet, and new images popped up from Wednesday night, this time from when the music had first started. I’d watched as Roxy’s face had lit up when she heard it, still totally clueless that it was all for her. I saw how nervous Paul was, but he held it together, smiling at her and waiting for his cue to lead her off the porch. I hadn’t gotten his flashlight signal to call the whole thing off, and he hadn’t looked like he wanted to as he’d sat there watching her dance in her seat. It seemed like everything was falling into place.
But then I remembered feeling a tightness in my chest as he’d taken her hand and walked her into the middle of the dancers. And it wasn’t heart-related. Well, maybe it was, but not in the medical sense. In the emotional one. Because yes, it seemed like everything was falling into place—but it was the wrong place. Upside down or backward or otherwise ill-fitting. And there was nothing I could do but watch.
By the time he’d gotten down on one knee, I’d been able to join the rest of the crowd with watery eyes and hands over our mouths. They were delighted, and I was slightly devastated. Even though I’d told myself about a million and a half times that I’d wanted Paul to find a nice girl to marry and have a future with, seeing it actually happening was a total nightmare. My brain worked overtime to simultaneously look happy on the outside and also make myself wake up. That had to be possible right? I could just wake up, and I wouldn’t be watching Paul—myPaul—down on one knee in front of a woman who wasn’t me.
And then, to my utter shock and absolute horror, the look on his face changed from hope and happiness to dread. What was going on? I thought he’d stood because she’d said yes and he was going to put the ring on her finger. But instead, a deep red blush crept up from his neck onto his ears, and he looked down at Roxy like she’d sucker punched him in the gut.
Then came the guilt. Even as I was watching so I could see how I could help him, some small part of me (okay, a big part of me) at the back of my mind was doing agrandjetéandassemblé, leaping with joy. That was bad. Very bad. I definitely shouldn’t be leaping with joy over the rejection my best friend had suffered.
And yet.
Shaking my head, I put my wine in the fridge and brought my glass back to the couch. All three pairs of eyes were on me like they awaited a bedtime story, so I sighed. I didn’t want to go through the rundown of my feelings during the proposal with them. But I did want to talk about what happened afterward because I still ruminated over it in my mind, and it was driving me nuts. “Okay, so you saw me go after him, right?”
They nodded like a dashboard lineup of bobbleheads, and Lyndi straightened, clapping her hands. “Yes, tell us. Did he kiss you?”
A surprising amount of sadness filled me then, and I cleared my throat. “No. He didn’t. But there was a moment where I thought he was going to. Two, actually. But he held back. Or maybe not… maybe he wasn’t going to kiss me. I’m not sure.”
“Ugh, I wish you guys would pull your heads out of your butts and tell each other how you feel,” Aria cried.
I swallowed. “I know how I feel, and I know why I’m not going to do that. But, uh, do you know something I don’t about the wayhefeels?”
“If I did, would it make you change your mind about telling him you love him?” she asked pointedly.
My gut reaction was yes. I wanted to tell her that if I found out Paul could somehow see beyond all of my medical issues and bad days and actually have romantic feelings for me, I’d tell him how I felt right away. But then my head told my gut to sit down and shut up because that wasn’t the right call in this situation.
My head knew the truth. The truth was Paul may not have found happiness with Roxy, but there were billions of other women out there who would love to be with him. They could give him all of the things I couldn’t, all of the things he deserved, and he just needed to go find one. How hard could that be? If at first, you don’t succeed, try, try again.
“No,” I finally replied, looking down. “But he admitted that he was settling for Roxy because he couldn’t have what he really wanted. And I’m pretty sure he was saying I was what he really wanted.”
I looked up to meet their eyes, and all three of them had gone from bobbleheads to puppy-dog-wall-calendar eyes as they stared back at me. Layla put her hand on her heart. “Shelby.”
“I know,” I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat, “but I told you guys the last time we talked about this. I want him to be able to have kids and a future with someone healthy. He needs to let it go and do that.”
Layla took a sip of her beer, staring off into space. “You know, I get what you’re saying. I really do. As Paul’s friends—and sister, in Aria’s case—we all want him to be happy and have kids and all that. But it feels like you’re making a decision for him that isn’t yours to make.”
Aria, Lyndi, and I all gaped at her, unspeaking.
“I’m sorry,” she said, holding up a hand. “I don’t mean for that to sound harsh. It’s just… let’s just say I get a little sensitive about one person making choices for a couple when they should be made together.”
I looked at my lap. She was relating this to her own broken heart. Layla had fallen in love with a Marine named Zac when he was stationed in Beaufort years ago. They’d met through mutual friends, and dated for two years. When he got his orders out of Beaufort, we were all sure he was going to propose and whisk her away to go with him wherever the Marine Corps sent him. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d broken up with her with no explanation other than promising it was for the best and that she would thank him later. She still hadn’t.
“Understandable,” I said in a small voice. “But in this case, I didn’t choose for this to be my life.”
“No,” Aria said, reaching over and placing a hand over mine where it rested on the back of the couch. “You didn’t. But Paul did choose to stand by you through everything you’ve been through, and I don’t think it’s because he sees you as a friend. I think it’s because he loves you, and he’d continue to stand by you no matter what else comes.”
Her words were like wrecking balls, punching holes in my resolve to keep Paul at arm’s length. I pursed my lips. “You really think he loves me like that? Like more than a friend? Has he told you that?”
She shook her head. “No. He hasn’t. It’s just a gut feeling.”
“And she’s not the only one who feels that way,” Lyndi offered. “We all do. Shoot, the whole town has always wondered if you two were going to end up together. The day he carried you out of that cafeteria was it for me.”
Layla chuckled. “See? I told you that was romantic.”
I rolled my eyes, wetting my dry throat with my fake wine. “So, what? Am I just supposed to go to him and tell him I love him? Isn’t that a little crazy? What if you’re all wrong and he really does see me as just a friend?”