Page 25 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

Chapter nineteen

Lucy

S ince I saw Jake in the ER on Thursday, I’ve been obsessing over Sam’s red-rimmed eyes.

I was too upset and caught off-guard to know what to say.

And what did he even mean by “dealing with unresolved issues”?

They must be debating whether or not to get back together.

But if that’s the case, wouldn’t he end our fake relationship?

But maybe he still wants to continue what we’re doing until he makes further progress with Sam—it seems to be working, after all.

Although I want to help Jake and I desperately want to see him happy, I’m not sure I’m masochistic enough to watch their love story unfold in real time.

Just them sitting next to each other in the break room was enough to level me.

What will happen when I see them touch, hold hands, or God forbid, kiss?

And what does Jake even see in Sam? To me, she’s not good enough for him—he deserves a woman who truly sees him, who supports him no matter what.

She doesn’t seem to appreciate him for who he is.

From the little I know about her, she doesn’t seem to understand what it’s like to have complicated parental relationships.

She didn’t even watch him play at TNT when they were together!

Not to mention, any woman that thinks Sterling Whitlock is worth dating is seriously deluded.

Maybe I’m just jealous, but Jake could do better. Can I in good conscience guide him back to a woman who will only hurt him in the end?

Trying to distract myself, I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts. My eyes catch on my brother’s name. After a beat, I decide to call, but the phone just rings and rings until Peter’s voicemail kicks in. This is the third message I’ve left. Still no reply.

Sighing, I toss my phone aside. My head is a jumble, and I’m a tangle of emotions that seem to tie themselves progressively into tighter knots.

Is there any way to release this tension building in my chest?

My mind turns to Jake serenading me and then to our achingly beautiful duet together. I don’t typically sing by myself. Even in the shower, I still feel self-conscious. But I long to release my feelings, let them take flight, even if the words aren’t technically mine.

Slowly, hesitantly, the words to “On My Own,” from Les Miserables, flow from my lips. Eponine, the girl everyone has thrown away, is in love with a man who is in love with someone else.

I can relate.

The sorrow of the opening stanzas flood out of me, and I pour everything into the sound.

Even when Jake’s not with me, I feel him there.

I’ve never felt this level of connection, certainly not with Weston.

With Jake, I’m rewriting everything I thought I knew.

As I sing, I remember that moment—the almost kiss.

Were we going to kiss? I can’t be sure that it wasn't just me hoping.

And then comes the key change, and something shifts in me too. Defiance fills my voice—Eponine and I can’t deny what we feel. The yearning to be seen, to love and be loved in return, digs deep.

The final notes float through the air, but the words stay with me, echoing in my chest long after the music ends.

Though he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll continue caring for Jake…even if it’s only on my own.

Friday and Saturday are torturous and long. I’m torn between my overwhelming desire to see Jake and the urge to cancel. Would he even notice if I didn’t show up tonight at TNT? But he’s saving tickets for us, and I don’t want to be another Sam, someone who isn’t there when it really matters .

This is the least I can do. I never want Jake to feel like he isn’t worth showing up for.

That evening, the girls come over to my apartment to pregame before we head over to TNT.

One positive out of all of this is that I’m finally feeling more integrated into our group.

With Amelia, I no longer cringe from each of her questions.

And Isabelle being in the know about Jake has eased any awkwardness between us because she is so thrilled to be part of my “fake dating” mess.

As for Zoe? I think we’re getting there, but I haven’t mustered enough courage to hang out with her alone.

I damaged all of my friendships in the past year, but for some reason, I hurt her the worst, and that knowledge stabs my insides with guilt.

Before they came over, I decided on a flowery corset top and hot pink shorts with some strappy heels, hopefully coming off as cute but not trying too hard.

While this is an outfit that Weston would highly disapprove of—he hates anything frilly, flowery, or pink—it only took half an hour to select it. That feels like progress.

Somehow I know Jake would appreciate any outfit his girlfriend wore. And then I wonder…will he think I look cute tonight? Does it even matter?

“Thanks for coming with me, guys,” I say to my friends now even as a tingly, buzzing sensation spreads over my skin at the thought of seeing Jake again.

Will it be awful being there knowing that he can’t be mine? Or is it okay to just pretend for one night that he is?

I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of that. A fake relationship designed to fool myself .

Amelia’s voice is a pleasant interruption to my mental tailspin. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus, I didn’t get to go during our first-year bar-hopping event because I came down with the flu, and I’ve always wanted to go.”

Amelia’s in a simple black tank and blue jeans with cute sandals. She doesn’t wear heels as much as the rest of us because of her height. Still, she manages to look chic and effortless.

Definitely much more put together than I feel right now.

“And you guys were so adorable at the Centennial Dinner,” Iz sighs, clasping her hands together, her eyes filled with heart emoji.

“Are you sure you guys are just fake dating? Because the sparks were flying like crazy…in both directions.” She tucks her long yellow maxi dress underneath her as she takes a seat.

My cheeks heat, remembering how Jake and I held hands the entire time we were at the dinner…and then at Bill’s where it seemed like we were one date short of becoming something real.

But the truth is—he’s not mine and nothing I say or do can change that.

Isabelle sings, “You likeeee him, you really likeeee him!”

Amelia even looks amused. “You forgot to mention you actually like the guy you’re fake dating.”

My friends are teasing, but little do they know each of their innocuous comments are like jabs to my tender underbelly.

Zoe folds her arms in front of her with disapproval, her glittery emerald tank top shimmering as she moves.

“Come on, now! Don’t get sucked into another relationship; it’s time to have fun with a no-strings-attached fling.

Don’t you dare fall in love. What about this pact that we all made a couple of weeks ago? !”

Isabelle rolls her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Zoe. Jake sounds absolutely scrumptious, and there’s no reason our Lucy shouldn’t go for him!”

“Oh hush all of you,” I cry out, finally done with the commentary. The one in my head is bad enough. “I have no intention of starting anything new. Let’s just have a good time; this is a girls’ night out, after all.”

“Sure it is,” mutters Zoe. “More like a bad rom-com setup.”

Iz whacks Zoe on the arm. “Or a great rom-com setup!”

Amelia sighs. “Hey, you two, settle down. We’re here for Lucy, so back in your corners.”

I glance at Amelia in relief, who sends me a wink.

“Let’s talk about the important stuff, then. Does Jake have any hot friends?” Zoe bats her eyes coquettishly.

“I have no idea,” I say, unable to process Zoe’s quick pivot. “I haven’t met them yet.”

“Well, keep me posted. Fortune favors the prepared,” Zoe grins.

“The last few dates I went on weren’t great, so I need to branch out from the Connections app.

” Everyone, especially Zoe, uses Connections, the most popular dating app on the market now.

But I’m the exception—I can barely keep up with my fake relationship, let alone real dating app chaos.

“I can attest to this,” Amelia raises a hand. “As her emergency phone call.”

Iz and I grin at Amelia’s response .

Zoe huffs and places a hand on a cocked hip. “You all should be impressed that I even thought that much in advance. Normally, I just go with the flow and try to find some creative way to ditch the guy before the dessert course.”

“I’m still unconvinced that you thought that far ahead,” Amelia counters, undeterred. “I asked you what you were up to, and when you told me you were going on a date, I offered to call thirty minutes into the date to make sure you were okay.”

“Fine,” Zoe grumbles. “Amelia, our responsible den mother, rescued me from the horrors of surviving yet another course.”

Iz plucks a grape from some fruit I laid out prior to them coming over. “Now that sounds more realistic,” she says, taking a bite, her eyes gleaming behind her funky glasses.

Zoe glares at all of us pointedly, one by one. “Is this bash-on-Zoe night? Let’s focus back on Lucy now.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say, laughing, relishing in how normal our interactions have been tonight compared to the awkwardness at Dessert Debauchery. I need to focus on that, not on Jake. “I’d rather you not.”

“I still need more details about this guy,” Amelia says, turning towards me. “I’ve only heard the bare minimum, that he’s a nurse, and now we’re going to see him play in a piano bar.”