The Fortunate Ones

For a few minutes, he leads me in silence as I try to come up with some way to convince him of the truth. I could drag Ellie out here and force her to redact her wild stories, but even if he does believe my time in Spain was spent largely thinking of him, wondering whether or not he’d moved on, would it even matter? As the second song fades, so does my hope of reconciliation. He leads me to the side of the dance floor and I grasp for something to say, some way to keep him here with me.

“James—”

He shakes his head and speaks with a dejected tone. “I thought about what it would be like when you came back,” he admits with sad eyes. “And not once did I think you’d show up like this.”

“Well I’m here now,” I say, my voice brimming over with hope.

“Temporarily,” he points out bitterly.

Of course. That’s when reality hits me like a ton of bricks. This isn’t some grand gesture. I didn’t fly back from Spain with the hopes of reconnecting with James. I came here for a quick visit to see my family. I’m at the event because of Martha, not in the hopes of running into him, and he knows it. It was the very first thing I said to him. Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here—how’s that for love? Any attempt I make to explain myself here will seem half-assed and coincidental. Oh yes, sorry about all the trouble I put you through all those months ago. See you around!

He turns to walk away and my hand shoots out to stop him. “If you wanted me to come back, you could have reached out, or…”

My voice fades when he laughs incredulously. It’s a sad, pitiful sound that splinters my heart.

“I already asked you to stay once.”

I get it—once bruised, a man’s ego isn’t so easily healed, especially a man like James.

As I watch him walk away, clarity sets in like a shiver up my spine: I want a second chance with James, a chance to make things right between us now. Even though every decision I’ve made in the past year and a half has opened up millions of potential paths and parallel universes away from him, there’s nothing stopping me from turning around and retracing my footsteps back to the point where they all meet. It’s true that every time a door closes, a window opens, but that doesn’t mean the door just disappears. Hell, it’s just a closed door, and no matter if it’s jammed, locked, or broken, there will probably come a time when you can break the rusted hinges and fight your way back in.

If you truly want to.

Walking backward should feel like a retreat, but it doesn’t feel that way for me, because all that time marching forward has changed me from the person I was into the person I am. I traveled, explored, and got myself lost more times than I can count. I wallowed in heartbreak over James, but I also learned that I could find my smile again, even on my own. I think that lesson was the hardest to learn, but ultimately, it’s what matters most. I don’t need James to survive; I want him. When I dig deep for my old insecurities, they aren’t there anymore.

Now, the idea of marrying James fills me with hope, not dread. I want to share my life with him and I need him to know that, but I know it won’t be easy to convince him.

Looking at things from his perspective, his behavior tonight makes perfect sense. He doesn’t owe me kindness. He surrendered his pride and begged me to stay in Austin, and I still went to Spain. Then, thanks to Ellie’s well-intentioned storytelling, he assumed I humped around Europe without a care in the world. He must think I’m the most callous, unfeeling person on the face of the planet. Why would he believe me if I told him I want a second chance now? What have I done to try to restore things between us?

Nothing. The door is still closed, dead-bolted, and rusted over.

Welp, looks I’m going to need a crowbar.CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT“Oh my god, Ellie, I’m such a cliché! James Ashwood wanted me and I tossed him away like yesterday’s garbage—for what?! A few sunny months in España!?”

She hums thoughtfully, doing her best rendition of Bored Sister #1 as she reclines on my bed and scrolls through her Instagram feed. I’m glad she can relax at a time like this. I didn’t sleep at all after the gala, partly because I’m still recovering from jet lag, and partly because my life just took a sharp right turn off its charted course. I feel sick. I think I’m having a heart attack, and I’ve forced Ellie to check my symptoms on WebMD three times already.