Page 29 of It Happened Back Then (Nilsson Family #3)

M y phone buzzes again. That’s three missed calls this morning.

Bennett: You okay? Haven’t heard from you.

Bennett: Your car is here but you’re not answering the door. What's going on?

Bennett: Don’t make me call Lief.

Bennett: You coming by the restaurant tonight?

I toss it face-down on the couch like it’s burning my hands.

I can still see Savannah’s smug smile from the flower shop, her voice echoing in my ears. You’re suffocating him, Blossom. The way she casually talked about moving to France with him like it was already decided. Like I meant nothing to him.

I didn’t tell him I saw her there. I haven’t been able to talk to him since. I came home and cried myself into a state where I was stuck for two days, wrestling with memories .

I wanted to believe him when he said he didn’t want her. That he loved me. That he would never go to France. But right now, I can’t stomach hearing his voice.

Because in the back of my mind, I believe Savannah is right. Bennett is so good at what he does. He’s so young, now is the time to experience it all. To find exactly where he fits and become the best he can be.

Instead, I focus on January’s bridal shower. I scroll through vendor lists, decide to take that tiger lily centerpiece, and sort through menu ideas. I even dig out my hot glue gun and a bunch of glitter pens from a box labeled “old stuff” to work on personalized name tags.

Anything to stay busy. Anything to push away the lump in my throat.

Another buzz.

Bennett: We need to talk.

I stare at the screen until it goes dark.

I want to see him, but the knot in my chest won’t let me.

If I look at him, I’ll break. I’ll purge every thought I’ve ever had, every secret I’ve buried.

I’m sure it would be enough to have him running.

But I need to hold it together, for the shower, for my sisters, for myself. Just until January’s wedding.

Then it can all fall apart.

I pull up my Pinterest board and pretend I care about color schemes and cutesy bridesmaid sayings. I pretend the ache in my chest isn’t growing by the hour.

He calls again and I silence it.

This time, I don’t even look at the screen.

~ ~

Meadow watches me tap at the register without ringing anything up.

"You done fingering that register? You’re going to owe it a drink soon.”

I roll my eyes, slamming the drawer shut.

“You’re awfully quiet today."

I shrug. "Just tired. The shower’s next weekend and there’s lots to do."

She gives me a look. "So, lots to do, but your phone, with all the details and phone numbers, is locked in the back storage room? "

I don’t respond.

She steps closer, folding her arms across her chest and leans against the counter next to me. "You saw her again, didn’t you?"

She doesn’t need me to respond; my silence is enough.

She sighs, softer now. "You know he’s not with her and you know he loves you.

So, what are you really scared of?" Meadow stares at me a moment longer.

“He left once already. He got his degree and came back here because he was offered a damn good job. A job that many first-year graduates would kill for. What else is there?”

“Apparently, there’s France. I mean, that’s fucking huge! A chef in France?”

She rolls her eyes and does that damn stare at her nails thing as always. “That actually sounds awful. He doesn’t speak the language and I'm pretty positive he’d choke on a snail if he tried it. I mean, I can imagine the shell doesn’t go down easy at all.”

I roll my eyes, huffing a small laugh as she bumps my shoulder and says, “It’s not about France, is it?”

I shake my head. “Why won’t he just end it with her? Just tell her to leave. He says he doesn’t want her. Why does she keep tormenting me? ”

“Because she's a bitch.”

I shake my head and whisper, "What if she’s right? What if I’m holding him back from things he truly wants?"

"Or maybe you’re everything he truly wants and there’s no need to leave anymore."