He laughs, “I don’t know what was better, the fact that your date left with his pregnant girlfriend or the picture you posted with limp duck saying he was your new man.”
“Let’s be real, limp duck is an upgrade to every single guy I’ve dated.
He rolls his eyes, “Amen to that. I honestly don’t get it. How are you so beautiful and only attract losers?”
It’s like he immediately realizes what he said and tries to backtrack, “I just mean that—”
“Thank you,” I blurt, attempting to make it less weird, “for getting me that duck and always letting me tag along as a third wheel. I’m sure that was annoying.”
He sits back in the chair, “I honestly never minded it. You kept things exciting, that’s for sure.”
I push his arm, “Thanks a lot, jerk.”
He turns his attention to me, and when that smile breaks out, all thoughts of Hanna in my mind fade, and I’m perfectly aware that makes me a terrible friend. All the little moments keep adding up, and it makes me crazy. It makes me crazy because sometimes I feel like he’s actually feeling them too, but then I remember he probably looks at me like the annoying little sister you can never get rid of.
We ended up finishing the movie, even though I spent most of the time trying not to stare at him. Finally, he leans forward, stretching, “I should go. I have to be up early.”
“Right, yeah,” I mumble, suddenly feeling like he felt obligated to hang out with me.
“Thanks for coming by. I’ll tell Hanna to lay off and buy you some time.”
He sighs, “Thanks, and Jolene?”
“Yeah?” I whisper.
“You are a good friend,” he acknowledges, “To Hanna, I mean.”
I scoff, “I’m not a good friend to you?”
“No,” he laughs, “You are my therapist now, remember?”
I smile at him, and he starts acting goofy, singingYou Got A Friend in Me, and his voice gives me chills. It’s like I can feel the actual butterflies in my stomach, and I look down at limp duck and quickly realize that I didn’t keep it because it was funny. I kept it because it reminded me of Eric.
CHAPTER 6
ERIC
For months I had been going to the plate for Hanna and striking out. It felt like no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t make her smile anymore. She didn’t laugh. Absolutely nothing was like it was.
I couldn’t fix it. Hell, I wasn’t even sure that it was broken.
I just knew that everything felt different.
It was different because of him.
The Hanna I knew spent years taping tiny pieces of her heart together, and for what? Him to come back and break it again?
The problem is good guys never win, and that’s why I’ve got a five thousand dollar bill from the wedding venue sitting on my kitchen table and credit for the plane tickets we were supposed to use.
I think back to the wedding day, but the only thing I can remember is seeing Karly afterward. The way her dress fell against her hips, the strappy white heels that tied in the back. The smile she gave me as she handed me drinks at the bar. It was the second worse day of my life, and Karly made it bearable. Actually, in the last few months of my and Hanna’s relationship, the only time we were happy was when Karly was around.
It was almost like drinking a freshly squeezed lemonade after standing on hot asphalt all day long. She was refreshing. She always has been.
I still felt the need to tell myself that wanting to kiss her meant nothing, that it was just a result of feeling brokenhearted over Hanna.
But that would’ve been a lie.
Horns blare behind me as I sit at the now-green traffic light, snapping me from my thoughts.