When You Were Mine Read online

  That sounds exhausting, but she continues so I can't tell her this.

  "Sit down for a minute. Tell me what's going on with you and Michael."

  This is a bigger shock than finding her here in the first place, and I open my mouth as I start to back away, wondering how to deny that anything is going on that will sound believable.

  Is there some new gossip about us that I haven't heard? After some of the comments from customers at the diner, I wouldn't wonder at it.

  Or maybe Sydney told our mom something.

  She wouldn't.

  "Don't even try to say nothing, because I can see the difference in you. Also, I may have heard a thing or two about how he's been looking at you."

  I pull out one of the chairs at the table and sit on the edge, not wanting to get too comfortable. This conversation is not going to put me in a good mood, I can already tell, and I don't have a lot of time to invest it in before I have to be at the diner.

  "I thought being away would make it easier, but it hasn't, not really. It just let the denial draw out, you know."

  She nods. She and my dad have been together since they met in college during their freshman year, but I don't know much about their love lives before then. Maybe she, and maybe he, had someone else and suffered through bad breakups, too.

  But they found each other and obviously, are still happy together, if a baby on the way can speak to anything less. Or the way my dad watches out for her, and the way they share looks that are almost embarrassing for anyone watching.

  "You never told me what happened, and you don't need to. Just know that you should speak up, if you have something you need to tell him, so you won't regret it later."

  I frown.

  "But he's with someone else now. And she's perfect. She's even asked me . . ."

  I let my words fade, and my mom raises her eyebrows, tilting her head as if she's waiting for me to continue.

  "She asked me if I still wanted to be with him. But it doesn't matter, not when he loves her now. Not when he's going to marry her."

  Her eyes shine in the relative darkness of the kitchen, with the brightness of a street light streaming through the window above the sink.

  "He hasn't married her yet. The fact that she asked you means she has doubts of her own, and she's smart to consider that now, instead of after they've said their vows."

  I feel my breath hitch in my chest, and reach out to rest my hand over hers.

  "Thanks. I don't know what I'm going to do, since I told her the truth already. Michael has so much going on right now, and I don't want to add to his worries by blabbing on about this, too."

  "Since when is telling someone you love him considered blabbing? Whatever happens, you will know that you've done what you can to make things right between you."

  I've apologized to him, but that doesn't feel like enough. He has to know how much I meant it, how much I wish I could go back in time and change what happened.

  And my childish, selfish reaction to it.

  "I know you're right. It's just not that easy."

  She shakes her head, her smile a little sad now.

  "But it is, Jenny. It really is."

  I want to ask how she knows this, but I have to leave now, so I get up and pull the lasagna from the refrigerator, tucking down the edges of foil that are already closely smoothed against the glass.

  Holding the dish between us, I nod to my mom and tell her to have a good day.

  "Get some sleep, too. Dad will be mad when he finds out you're not resting."

  She smiles, smoothing her hair from her forehead as she leans back to watch me walk away.

  "Think about what I've said. And tell Sydney she needs to make us a lasagna, too."

  If she goes back to bed, which I hope she does, she might miss Sydney when my sister gets up for school.

  "Will do. This does look really good, although if I know Michael, he'll have trouble eating because he's worried about his mom. Mark is like Dad, though. I think he can eat no matter what."

  I smile, unable to wave at her with my hands full.

  Once I have the food nestled carefully in the front seat beside me, I drive off in the dark, the palest layer of light visible on the horizon far away.

  It's similar to the hope I have in my heart for any sort of reconciliation between Michael and me.

  But it's there, and as sure as I can see the first glimpse of today's sunrise through my rearview mirror, I feel it, the warmth in my chest bringing a smile to my face.

  I'm the first one at the diner today, beating Ellie and Steve, who sometimes arrive a little earlier, and I make sure to tuck the lasagna away in the employee break room refrigerator with a note that it's for Michael.

  I don't think anyone else would eat it, since no one here is like my dad in that respect, but I need to be sure after Sydney's hard work.

  She needs a piece of whatever pie is on the menu today, so I'll have to remember to set one aside to take home, or give to her if she stops in during her lunch break.

  "Oh, hey, Jenny. I didn't realize you'd be here this early."

  I have my head in the refrigerator, taping a sticky note to the top of the foil covering on the lasagna when Michael's voice sounds behind me, and I stand up, banging my head on the inside of the appliance.

  "Hi, Michael."

  When I back up and stand up again, I can't help rubbing the back of my head because it really hurts. At least it happened in front of Michael, so I'm not embarrassed. He's seen me do all kinds of goofy things, so he can add this to the list.

  I bet Emily would never bust her skull on the inside of a refrigerator, but I also know that Michael wouldn't compare us based on something like poise around appliances.

  If he compares us at all.

  "Sorry if I scared you. I should have waited . . ."

  I wave my hand in the air and shake my head.

  "No, it's fine."

  When I sigh, I don't bother to hide it. It's early, and his face tells the same story of how I feel.

  Tired.

  "How's your mom? Have you heard anything?"

  It's only been a few hours since we last saw each other, so I'm not surprised when he shakes his head.

  "Can't sleep, though. You look like you didn't much, either."

  We stand a few feet away from each other, the building quiet around us, as if the space itself is waiting for us to speak just as much as we are waiting for the other one to do so.

  "I wanted to talk to you, but I hadn't expected to see you right now."

  Maybe this isn't a good time for me to bring anything up either.

  Like the simple fact that I still love him.

  And that I don't expect him to answer, just to accept the words and know the truth of them.

  "I need to tell you something, too, but this might not be the right time."

  "And what are you two up to, alone here at this hour?"

  Ellie's voice cuts through the brief moment after I speak, and I'm both annoyed and grateful. I can't really read Michael's expression, but I don't have much time to do so when he turns to face Ellie with a forced smile.

  She pats him on the shoulder, then pushes him into a chair at the small, round table available for breaks. He doesn't make a sound, but just falls into it and stares at her blankly.

  "You need to go home and get back into bed, boy. And you," Ellie points to me, and I press a hand to my collarbone, unsure what she's about to tell me to do but already aware that I don't have the energy to fight it.

  "You need to speak up before you both make a big mistake."

  When she turns around and walks away, her footsteps squeaking a little on the tile floor, I let my mouth drop open.

  She is anything but subtle, which is amusing except when that lack is directly aimed at me.

  And Michael.

  "Do you know what she's talking about, Jenny?"

  I shake my head out of habit, then nod.

  "You do look really tired, Michae
l. I think anyone would agree that you need to get some rest. No one can blame you for not working today, and we have everything covered. Oh, and your lasagna is in the refrigerator here, so don't forget it. Sydney did a bang up job on it."

  Bang up job. I sound like my dad.

  "No. Come on, Jenny, you know what I mean."

  I do, and I realize that right now, here alone with Michael, is the perfect time to tell him what he needs to know.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  "We can't keep doing this, acting like nothing's wrong."

  Michael continues as I stand staring at him, feeling my mouth open again just a little as if I can't find the right words.

  They're easy. Saying them is the hard part.

  "I love you, Michael. I never stopped, I just avoided it. Avoided you."

  His eyes grow wide, the black of their pupils shining in the artificial light hanging above us. He shifts in the chair as if he might stand up, and I step back, shaking my head.

  "No, listen, please. I just have to get this out all at once, and then I promise I'll leave you alone. Please."

  He stops moving, his gaze never leaving mine.

  "I know you're with Emily now, and I don't want to do anything to cause problems between the two of you."

  I take a deep breath, my hands clenched into fists at my side, as if I could derive strength from the small effort.

  "Instead of trusting you, I ran away. I feel like I wasted this past year, although I did make one good friend and get some college courses out of the way. But the important thing is, I've realized my mistake, and although I can't make it up to you, I needed to tell you. I didn't want there to be something unresolved between us."

  His hand moves up to his head, threading his fingers through the unruly hair I used to smooth down, when it was shorter and tamer.

  I long to reach out and rest my own hand over his, to hold it still and give him some sort of reassurance that his mother, that everything, will be okay.

  But I don't know any of this for sure, and I don't want to make this any more difficult for him by forcing my attention on him physically. He's vulnerable right now, and it would be selfish of me to take advantage of that just because I want to touch him.

  He opens his mouth, but I shake my head to stop whatever he's going to say. He's always been honest with me, even when it was something I didn't want to hear. But those were times when I asked if a dress looked good on me, or if he liked the color of my eyeliner.

  Nothing important. Nothing life-changing.

  But don't I need to hear it? That he loves Emily, that he's made a commitment to her?

  "I'll never say any of this again, I promise. Maybe it's unfair to tell you, and maybe it makes things complicated, but I thought you should know."

  I finish, clamping my mouth shut and backing away, out of the break room and into the kitchen, where Ellie is banging some pots and pans together unnecessarily.

  Michael doesn't follow me, and I'm both relieved and disappointed that he doesn't.

  "Chocolate cream pie. Recipe up there on the cork board."

  Ellie spins a big metal slotted spoon in her hand and points it at the thin strip of cork running along the wall above the counter, where several laminated recipe sheets are tacked in a row.

  I need to grab a clean apron first, but when I turn around, my eyes blurry with tears, I nearly run into Michael, who is practically running towards the back door.

  I've made a mistake in telling him how I feel, obviously, because instead of staying to do his job, he's gone in a few moments, the door slamming closed behind him.

  "Hey, kiddo. You've got pies to make and clearly, he has something important to do as well."

  How can Ellie even compare whatever Michael is going through to baking desserts?

  "We need you. Cathy, Mark, and Michael need you. Right here, right now. They know they can count on you to help keep this diner going, so they can focus on Cathy."

  I nod, understanding pushing aside the disbelief and fear in my mind. She's right, and if I had a few more hours of sleep and didn't unload my personal failures on Michael a few minutes earlier, I would be able to see that without her explanation.

  So pies it is, and for the next few hours we work together, preparing the diner for the day as usual, but even when Steve’s work becomes obvious and the familiar sounds of faucets bursting with water to fill scrub buckets and industrial mixers churning out bread dough, the building feels quiet and empty knowing that the Lindsays are suffering.

  I'm chugging another cup of coffee, which has grown chilly as I've sipped between customers, seating them and ringing them out for the first hour that we're open, when Mark walks in the front door.

  "I hear there's a lasagna in the back with our names on it."

  His smile seems a little more real than it was the last time I saw him, and I hope he has good news about Cathy.

  "Oh, yeah. Michael was in a hurry earlier, and forgot it."

  I nod and turn away, ready to go get the dish for him, but he is quicker than I am, and blocks my path. I frown.

  "What's wrong?"

  He gestures towards one of the waitresses, who is walking around with a half-full coffee pot, refilling customers' cups as she goes. She nods to him, and he takes my arm as he moves into the kitchen.

  "Hi, Ellie. All good here?"

  She tips her head up and stares at me for a moment. What in the world is going on?

  Ellie has been up in my business enough for today, but clearly, she knows more about what's happening than I do.

  "I don't know what happened between you and Michael," Mark starts, his voice firm but not unkind. "He texted me to let me know about the lasagna, of course, and then said he was spending the day with Emily at her grandparents' house."

  So I've pushed him into her arms, almost literally. I look away from Mark, unsure if I can hide whatever feelings are showing in my expression.

  Disappointment? Sadness? Relief?

  Relief that I've held nothing back, and that there are no more secrets between us. Maybe he wasn't able to move forward with Emily completely until now, since I had refused to speak to him months ago.

  Maybe I need to get over myself, since what Michael does might not have anything to do with me anymore.

  "We just talked. There were some things I needed to say, and I thought it wasn't right for me not to let him know."

  His forehead crinkles, and he doesn't speak for a few moments. Michael takes after both of his parents in different ways, but I imagine that he'll look more like Mark as he grows older, with his hair starting to gray a little at his temples like Mark's does already.

  "You know, we were all shocked by your break-up. It was so unexpected. So was his engagement to Emily."

  I rub the palms of my hands on my apron, wishing I was back out front. The register dings, and I want to use our busyness as an excuse to escape this conversation.

  "Emily's a sweet girl, I'll give her that. But we don't know her well, and I think Michael sort of latched on to her as soon as they started dating. I don't mean he doesn't care for her, but . . ."

  But what?

  "I'm sure she'll be a great addition to your family. She's been nice to me, and it seems like everyone else who knows her loves her."

  I'm taking the high road here, and I have to stick to it. It won't do me any good to be a sore loser, especially since it was my own fault.

  "But does Michael?" Mark asks, the question simple and yet so complicated.

  This is a good time to grab that lasagna from the refrigerator for him, because I have no idea what kind of response he expects from me on that. Why would Michael propose if he didn't love Emily?

  "Thanks," Mark says as I offer him the cold glass casserole. He rests it on the table and peeks under the foil, his eyes growing wide as he gets a good look at my sister's creation.

  "This looks delicious. I'll have to be sure to tell Sydney thanks the next time she's in to work."

&n
bsp; "I'll tell her. She'll be in on Saturday and Sunday to help."

  His fingers press around the foil edges to reseal them, and he picks the dish up, turning to look at me. He's no longer smiling.

  "I'm glad you're here for him now."

  When he walks away, I stand still, wondering what his words mean. Not the last, which I appreciate, but the way he questioned Michael's feelings for Emily.

  Hopefully, the next time Michael and I see each other, he will have gotten past my earlier confession, considered the matter over and finished, and put me out of his thoughts.

  There's a part of me that hopes differently, of course, but if he's going to be with his fiancée all day, I don't want to set myself up for more heartbreak, so I make myself head back to the dining room, snagging a pie from the kitchen refrigerator to add to the glass case.

  My pies have been a big hit here, and I can't help feeling a little proud of contributing to sales for the diner.

  The phone rings as soon as I let the waitress know I can take over again, and it's back to business, which keeps me out of my head and busy until Sydney bounces in.

  "Oh, hey, I need to get you a piece of the chocolate pie I made this morning. It's incredible, if I do say so myself."

  I turn to walk away when she starts bobbing up and down on her toes. What is she so excited about?

  "I may have heard something interesting from the school secretary."

  The school secretary is married to the mayor's son, who is best friends with the chief of police. If I didn't grow up in Valley Vale, I would need a chart to keep track of the relationships and the way gossip makes its way around easier because of them.

  "So Emily was at the post office this morning, filling out a change of address form."

  How did that get through the chatter chain so quickly, and end up with the school secretary, who should have been at her desk since about seven this morning?

  "Maybe she's getting an apartment," I suggest, walking into the kitchen. The last piece of pie up front sold right before my sister walked in, so I need to pull another one from the back. It only takes me a moment to return to the dining room.

  "Shouldn't you be in school?"