Page 10 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

ainsley

Dear world, what did I do to tick you off?

All I wanted was a night out with my bestie. When Mia and I made plans, it was because we had the same night off for the first time in months, with a corresponding day off tomorrow to recover. I might not drink, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to sleep in after a late night out.

But as the week’s gone on, and the more into my “Ainsley is super-duper single” depression that I’ve got, the more I was looking forward to this.

I don’t know if it was the talk with my siblings, or the still-unanswered text I received from Jonathan, but it felt like every day the cloud above me got bigger and bigger.

Which is why I wanted a nice, quiet night out with my best friend where I could enjoy her company, forget about that I’m extremely single, have no prospects, that my ex texted me, and the most action I’ve gotten from a man in a really long time is when I ran into a football player this week.

Is that too much to ask for?

Apparently that answer is yes. Because we’re sitting at my favorite bar, and everywhere I look, I’m smacked across the face in my aloneness.

Couples as far as the eye can see. Bachelorette parties in droves—even more than the usual for a Nashville Friday night in August. Even my favorite bartender is now sporting a wedding ring.

Sometimes I wish I did drink, because I don’t think the song “Crying in the Club” meant crying into your club soda.

“Okay, what gives?”

I pick my eyes up from my sad mocktail and look to Mia. ”What do you mean?”

The look she shoots me clearly says that she’s not buying my fake confusion. “We’ve been here for a half-hour, and you haven’t smiled once. That in itself is very un-Ainsley-like.”

I start to defend myself, but she holds a finger in the air, signaling that she isn’t done.

“Now, if it was just that, I wouldn’t be panicking.

But you’ve barely said two words. The ones you have said were asking about me and giving me one-word answers when I ask you anything in return.

And while I love that you’re the best listener I know, tonight I feel like you’re purposefully not talking. ”

She knows me too well.

“So,” she continues. “You’re going to tell me what has my best friend in the biggest funk I’ve ever seen her in, or I’m going to go into great detail about Cleopatra’s sister and her role with?—”

“Please no!” I moan. I love Mia, but I really don’t understand her fascination with this portion of history. “You wouldn’t.”

“Bet. Now spill.”

I start to say what I’m feeling, but I immediately swallow it down. Because I’m single. So what? Is that worth a vent session? It feels selfish to bring down the mood because I’m in a rut. “It’s nothing. It already sounds silly just thinking about it.”

“Nope. We’re not doing this,” Mia says, leaning across the table and tipping my chin up so I can’t look away. “Whatever you want to get off your chest, we’re going to do it. And if it takes five shots of whiskey to get there, well then goddamn it, that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Did I start drinking and you didn’t tell me?”

She shakes her head. “Those are for me. Because if something has you this down, I know it has to be something big.”

I shrug again, knowing that it is big to me.

And I know that Mia would listen to every word and return the ear and shoulder to cry on that I’ve given her so many times.

But when you’ve gone your whole life being the listener…

Well, it’s hard to flip that switch and sit on the other side of the conversation.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I choose a thirty-slide power point on Julius Caesar.”

“For the only time ever, I’m going to deny that request. Now spill.”

All I can do is groan and send her an angry look. Which knowing me probably isn’t that threatening. “Fine. But you play dirty.”

She smiles and sips on her espresso martini as I try and figure out how I want to start this conversation.

I don’t know why this is so hard. Mia’s my best friend.

I know she’s going to listen to me and be the girl’s girl that she is.

It’s just…saying this all out loud makes all of these feelings very real. And very vulnerable.

“I almost called Jonathan a couple days ago. And then, out of nowhere, he texted me.”

Saying the name of my ex-boyfriend makes Mia sit directly up in my chair. I also watch as she does her best to swallow her drink and not spit it in my face.

“Hold, please.”

I look on in curiosity as Mia starts digging in her purse. “What are you doing?”

“Because the night you finally realized you can do better and left that jackass, I kept a list of reasons why you ended it, in case you ever felt bad for him or had a moment of weakness. I was never going to let you forget all the reasons why being single is better than being with Dr. Stalker. And it’s finally coming into play. ”

“His last name is Ainsworth.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I always tried to defend Jonathan, which now I know was my kindness blinding me to his red flags. Even now, I feel bad that Mia calls him Dr. Stalker, even though she’s probably right.

When we were a couple, if we weren’t working, we were together. And again, at the beginning it was great. I had dated a few guys in college, and I always felt bad that I wanted to be around them seemingly more than they wanted to be around me. So finding a guy like Jonathan was perfect.

Or so I thought.

When I broke up with him, I thought he’d be sad, which he was. And I was too. It sucks realizing after spending more than a year together that you just aren’t the right fit. But better to end it when you know then to keep trying to find magic that isn’t there, right?

That’s how I felt. Jonathan felt another way.

He’d leave letters on my car. Send flowers constantly at home and work, with notes begging me to take him back.

It was…a lot. Overwhelming in the worst kind of way.

Mia, along with my siblings, all suggested that I needed to do something to stop it, but I felt like a restraining order was a bit excessive.

Especially because nothing was threatening.

Luckily, it didn’t come to that because within a week of me breaking up with him he declared that he couldn’t live in Nashville without me and took the job in Texas.

“I’m glad you kept that list, but I don’t need it,” I say, half believing the words coming out of my mouth.

“I don’t know, this week just felt…for the first time in a long time, I felt really alone.

I’ve never minded being single. I knew breaking up with Jonathan was right for me because he wasn’t right for me.

But something about this week, on top of his out-of-nowhere text, just got me really acknowledging how alone I truly feel. ”

I go on to tell Mia about this past week: helping out my family, coming together for the greater good. Then me sitting at a table, the extra chair needing pulled up at the end, and feeling more alone than ever.

“There I was, sitting around my family during this happy occasion, and all I wanted to do was sneak out and cry in a corner somewhere. Then I felt selfish for feeling bad about me. Rinse, repeat, and then a text received, and that’s been my week.”

“Wow,” Mia says, taking a healthy swig of her martini before continuing. “First, I want to say that I’m glad you didn’t text him. That would’ve required a whole other intervention.”

I laugh. “I know. It was a true moment of weakness. But kudos to me for leaving him on read.”

“You’re right, I tip my glass to you,” she says. “Also, it’s okay to feel alone and sad. Even when you’re happy for others. You’ve been single for a long time, and it’s a natural feeling. Are you trying to date? You haven’t said anything, but I also didn’t want to push.”

All I can do is shrug at her question. “I downloaded a dating app a few months ago. I deleted it in two days. One man asked me if I liked horseback riding, and if so, then I could ride him. Another sent me a picture of his…” I visibly shiver.

Because who says penis pictures? “That was too much for me. How do men just do that?”

“It’s too much for anyone. But I’m proud that you tried.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I slump in my chair. “I just felt like I had to try something. I’ve also seen videos about looking confused at a grocery store? Maybe that’s where I’ll meet my soulmate.”

“Nah, girl. The hardware store. That’s where you look confused,” Mia says. “That’s where I plan into find my lumberjack.”

“Lumberjack? After the way you drooled over the football players this week, I figured you were on a football player kick.”

“I’m never not looking for a lumberjack,” she says. “Now, don’t get me wrong, if I ran into a Fury guy tonight, I wouldn’t say no to a night of fun. But end game? A six-foot-five man of the woods with a cabin and a healthy 401K.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I like what I like. What can I say?”

I laugh at my best friend, who’s always marched to the beat of her own drum.

I knew she was going to be a special one the first day we met at orientation at Nashville Children’s.

I had my notebook out, ready to take detailed notes on everything our guide was about to tell us.

I even had color-coded pens to make sure I could keep my notes organized.

I came equipped with two water bottles because I didn’t know when we’d get a break, along with pretzels and a granola bar in case I got hungry.

All Mia brought was a can of Monster Energy and her cell phone.

Later I found out her phone died ten minutes into training and that the Monster was her second of the day.

It was nine in the morning.

I asked specific questions that took me ten minutes to piece together. She at one point blurted out a question about what the acceptable reactions were if someone stole your lunch.