“Yeah.”
“Well…” She climbed the stairs. Her white satin robe caught the moonlight coming in from the window over the door. “Gosh,” she said, sitting a couple of stairs below me.
“Yeah.”
“Want me to wake up Dad?”
“No,” I said, hating the whiny sound in my voice. “We’ve had such a good summer. And I’ve told Weston everything he wants to hear. I think we can make it work. But none of that is good enough. He wants a necklace around my neck and a ring on my finger. And now, he’s talking about real rings.”
“Real what?”
“Not until later,” I clarified.
Julianne nodded, relieved. “Oh my, he’s got it bad.”
“Literally. And not in a teenage colloquialism way either.”
Julianne breathed a laugh out of her nose. “I don’t know about that, but it does seem like you keep having the same conversation.”
“Ad nauseam.”
“Okay, so maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to take a break. You’ll be busy packing for the next couple of days, and then you’ll be moving to Stillwater. Once you’re settled in and comfortable with your classes, you can give him a call.”
I frowned. “I feel like that’s what he wants. I feel like he’s pushing me away—unintentionally, yet he’s doing it on purpose.”
“He’s testing you.”
I pointed at her. “Yes.”
“Because he’s insecure.”
“Yes.” I thought about that for a while. “You’re right. We need some space. He has to figure this out. I can’t do it for him.”
She leaned her cheek against my knee. “I’m in his boat.”
“You mean that he’s a fixer, too?”
“He wants all the ducks in a row in a way that makes sense to him. Like your dad said, he’s trying to control the only thing he can because everything else feels so far out of his reach.”
“I shouldn’t fault him for that. Shouldn’t I love him through it?”
“You can but not at the expense of your needs.”
I felt sick. “This is all way too grown-up for me. I don’t feel equipped to handle this.”
“Oh, you are. That’s the problem. Things would be so much easier on him if you behaved like a typical eighteen-year-old girl in love, put the ring on your finger, and begged for a diamond sooner rather than later. He needs a little while to catch up, to see things from a reasonable perspective, but it’ll happen.”
“I feel sorry for him,” I said. “He deserves someone that can be all giddy about this stuff.”
“I don’t,” Julianne said without hesitation. “You’re being smart about this. He’ll respect you for it later.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. He’s panicking. It’ll pass.”
I hugged my mother, and then I hurried up the stairs, falling into bed with my cell phone in hand.
You’re panicking. It’ll pass.
After several minutes with no response, I put my cell phone on the nightstand.
Rain began to thump against the window. The thunder rumbled first, far off in the distance. Before long, lightning crackled beyond the borders of my window, flashing in pulses into my bedroom.
I tried not to think about Weston, but it became impossible. A few regrets but mostly sweet moments kept popping into my mind. Once, I had fantasized about what it might be like to be loved by Weston Gates. Now, time had turned inside out, and love was a ridiculous roller coaster, an ultimatum, an impasse—at least, what was left of it.
My heart broke as my thoughts turned just as dark as the night between the lightning. He’d just wanted to give me his ring. It was such a puppy-love thing to do.
Why have I acted so offended by his every attempt to hold on to me?
It seemed like we were having two very different conversations. Rings, necklaces, and promises aside…I was jeopardizing our relationship for refusing to love him his way instead of mine.
Can I really say good-bye to the boy I’ve dreamed about since before I knew what love was?
A horrible realization hit. Is it already too late?
A soft knock on the door prompted me to lift my head.
“Any word?” Julianne whispered from the doorway.
“No. Have you heard from Veronica? Is he home?”
She nodded. “He’s home.”
I lay back against my pillow. “Good.”
“He’ll come around. Try to get some sleep,” she said with her soft mom voice. She disappeared into the dark hall.
Thunder rolled over our house, louder than it had been since the storm began. Part of me wanted to stomp across the rain-soaked lawns and pound on his door until he listened, but we had gone back and forth for nearly three months. He was desperate, and I was beginning to think I was broken.
Despite the heavy thoughts bouncing around in my head, the rain slowly sang me to sleep. I dreamed of emerald-green eyes, soft fingertips on my skin, and a lonely empty dorm room.
When my eyes opened, I waited for relief or the feeling of a second chance, a tiny shred of hope. It never came.
I rolled over onto my side, ignoring the chipper birds on the branches outside my window and the sunshine pouring through the sheer curtains. Everything Weston had ever said to me scrolled through my mind like credits, read in his soothing deep voice. I already missed him. My hand shot out from under the blanket and took my phone from the night table. I was almost afraid to look.
But I did, and the display read exactly the way I’d expected it to. There was nothing. I wondered what he was doing at that moment—if he were awake, if he were keeping busy, if he were wondering about me or trying not to, if he regretted molding his ring into the shape of my finger.
“Erin?” Sam called from downstairs. “Up and at ’em, babycakes! We’ve got a big day!”
The hours dragged on with organizing, packing, and shopping. It would have been nice if packing had kept my mind from Weston, but the more I tucked away, the further he felt.
On moving day, Sam stacked Julianne’s SUV with boxes and bags, rearranging it all at least twice until he was satisfied with the way it fit.
“I’m not going to cry,” Julianne said. “It’s just a car ride. We’ve driven to Stillwater a hundred times. This is no different. We’re just…taking our only child to…I’m going to cry,” she said, her breathing suddenly labored.