The Fear of Letting Go (23 page)

Mom lifts her chin and takes a careful sip of her drink.

“All of these so-called perfect girls care more about our money than getting to know me,” I say. “Jenna's not like that. She couldn't be farther from that. We have fun together, and she never asks me to spend money on her. It's nice to be with someone who likes me for me.”

“Well, I'm glad you're happy,” she says, patting me on the leg. I'm not sure she's really heard a word I've said.

When the limousine arrives at Jenna's apartment, I get out to help Penny and Jenna down the stairs and into the car. I've never seen Jenna so dressed up before, and even though she can take my breath away wearing a tank top and jeans, she's stunning tonight in her black dress.

Her blond hair is sleek and perfect, pulled back a little on top with the rest of it falling across her shoulders. She smiles nervously as I take her hand and bring it to my lips.

“You look perfect,” I say.

“How much shit did your mom give you about the suit?” she asks, which makes me laugh.

“A little,” I say. “But it was fun to watch her squirm.”

We ride to the country club, my mother on her best behavior. She even compliments Jenna on her earrings, which it turns out, she's borrowed from Penny.

I can tell Jenna is nervous, but she has no reason to be. Throughout the entire evening, I can barely keep my eyes off her. We dance and sip champagne before we join Penny and Mason at our designated table. We have been seated with a few other couples, including my ex-girlfriend Bailey and her new boyfriend, Judd.

Judd is one of my parents' scholarship recipients in medical research at Fairhope Coastal, working on a cure for leukemia. The more time I spend with them, the more I realize I couldn't have picked a better partner for Bailey. She lights up around him in a way she never did with me. I'm happy for her.

After the main course is served, I excuse myself to go to the restroom, but before I turn the corner into the hallway, I hear my name. I freeze, listening to the two women talking.

“Did you see the girl he brought with him tonight? I just know I've seen her somewhere before,” one woman says.

“She's a waitress over at Brantley's,” the second woman says. “Hasn't got a penny to her name, if you know what I mean. I heard she's slept with half the senior class at FCU.”

“What in the world is he doing with a girl like that?” The woman makes a tisking sound with her tongue.

“Well, I think we both know what he's doing with her,” the other woman says. “The question is why he thought it necessary to bring her to an event like this. His parents must be mortified.”

Anger rages through me. Everyone thinks they have our relationship all figured out, but they don't know anything. I straighten my jacket and walk around the corner.

The two women stand up straighter, their faces flushed at the sight of me.

“Preston Wright, don't you look handsome this evening.”

“We were just talking about you.”

“I heard,” I say. Their faces go slack. In the South, it's not considered polite to call people out when you happen to hear them spreading gossip about you, but I can't help myself. “It's none of your business what's going on with Jenna and me, and I don't appreciate you spreading lies about her.”

The woman on the right sucks in a jagged breath, preparing to apologize, when her eyes shift to a spot behind me. She purses her lips and turns away.

I turn around to find Jenna standing behind me.

“Can I talk to you for a moment in private?” she asks through clenched teeth.

I nod and walk with her to the back patio. A few smokers stand in a cluster on the other side, but we are able to find a quiet spot near a bench.

“This is exactly why I didn't want to come here tonight,” she says. “Whether it's true or not, everyone in that room looks at me and sees a woman like my mother. Someone who will sleep with anyone for money.”

I take her hands in mine. “That isn't true. Those two women are assholes who like to gossip,” I say. “Who cares what they think?”

“Usually, I wouldn't give a damn about those women and their ideas of who I am or what I do with my private time,” she says. “But coming in here, dressed up like I want to be one of them? It makes me feel like a cheap knock-off. It makes it look like everyone's right about us, and that all I care about is your money.”

“Don't let this ruin our night.”

“You can't go around defending me for the rest of our lives,” she says. “You can't go around to everyone in town and tell them that hey, Jenna's not after my money and I'm not using her for sex. It only makes it worse when you try to explain it. And besides, I'm used to people saying bad things about me. It's you I'm worried about.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You have a reputation to uphold in this town,” she says.

“I don't give a shit about my reputation.”

“Yes, you do,” she says. “After what happened with Penny, you've got the whole world looking over your shoulder, waiting to see if you're going to be a leader or a loser. I don't want them to judge you because of me.”

“If someone is going to judge me because I am with the hottest girl in the whole room, let them judge,” I say. I lean down until she looks up and meets my eyes. “I honestly don't care about any of that. If someone is too shallow to realize I'm the lucky one in this relationship, then that's someone I don't care to know.”

She studies me, finally letting the hint of a smile cross her face.

“Let's get out of here,” I say.

“You'd really leave for me?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say. “All I want is you by my side.”

“Good,” she says. “Because one more stare or hushed whisper as I walk by and I'm going to end up punching someone in the face. Then you'd really be screwed.”

I laugh and put my arm around her neck, pulling her close to me.

We take off our shoes and sneak away to the beach, a bottle of wine and two plastic cups between us. For the rest of the evening, it's just us, alone in the moonlight.

But I know we won't be able to shut the world out forever, and I can't help but feel our time is slipping away.

Jenna

We are lying in bed naked, our bodies pressed close together, talking about the virtues of kung-fu movies when Preston's phone rings.

“Don't answer that,” I say. “I want you all to myself until morning.”

He leans over me and grabs his cell from the nightstand. “I have to,” he says. “I'm an impending uncle.”

I smile and run my hand along his torso as he answers.

“Hello?”

I glance at the clock. It's after two in the morning, and I realize it's a very real possibility this will be the call he's been waiting for.

When his eyes practically bulge out of his head and he stumbles out of bed, knocking over a small table with a display of paper kittens, I know the time has finally come.

I laugh and watch as he tries to juggle the phone while getting dressed. He nearly trips and falls three times before he hangs up.

“Penny's in labor?” I ask.

“Yes, what are you doing? Get dressed,” he says. He collects a wad of clothing from the floor and throws it at me.

I shake my head from under a pair of yoga pants. “No, I wouldn't feel right,” I say. “I don't want to intrude on private family time.”

I toss the clothes back toward the end of the bed as he's pulling on his shoes.

His shirt is buttoned wrong and his fly is open.

“Come here,” I say, crawling to the end of the bed on my knees. I fix the buttons on his shirt and brush my hands through his tousled hair.

“Thanks,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “You wouldn't be intruding. I want you there. Besides, you have to come.”

“Why?”

“Do you really think I can drive in my current state?” he asks. “I'm so excited, I can hardly dress myself.”

I roll my eyes, but grab my clothes and run into the bathroom to get ready.

Ten minutes later, we pull up at the Wright Women's Hospital—yes, named for Preston's family who donated the money to build a dedicated maternity wing. An actual valet comes out to park the car for us, which feels kind of ridiculous since the parking lot is literally fifty feet away.

“Your family is already upstairs,” the tall man says as he holds his hands out for the keys to my truck. “They said to tell you she's in room 313.”

Before I can argue or offer to park my own truck, Preston is in the lobby searching for the elevators. I shrug and hand the keys to the man.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says.

I join Preston at the bank of elevators. He's staring at the descending numbers on the display as if it will help the elevator get here faster.

I slide my hand into his and squeeze. He takes a deep breath and squeezes back.

We make it to the third floor within a few minutes, and Preston knocks on the closed door of room 313.

His mother opens the door and pulls him into a huge hug. “So happy you're here,” she says. “I can't believe this day is really here. Who would ever have imagined I'd become a grandmother so young?”

Preston smiles and kisses his mother on the cheek. “How is she doing?”

“As well as can be expected,” she says. “She's refusing any pain medication, which I think is just preposterous.”

She steps away to let Preston in and notices me for the first time. Her eyes dip to our clasped hands and for a brief moment, I watch as she composes herself.

“Jenna, dear, I wasn't expecting to see you here so late,” she says, her voice tense.

Preston pulls me into the room and rushes to Penny's side. She's sitting on a giant exercise ball, leaning over onto the bed while Mason rubs her lower back.

Mason holds a finger to his lips and points to a machine on the other side of the room. A green line is spiking toward the top of a meter. After about thirty seconds, it falls back down to the bottom of the meter and Penny looks up.

“They're getting a lot more intense,” she says.

Preston releases my hand and sits down on the bed across from her. “I got here as fast as I could,” he says. “How's it going?”

“I'm in labor, what do you think?” she says.

“How far apart are the contractions?”

“About a minute apart, so you've got approximately forty seconds to talk to me before I turn into a raging bitch,” she says.

Preston laughs. “And how is that different from any other day?”

Penny laughs and playfully hits him on the shoulder. She squeezes his arm. “I'm so glad you're here,” she says. She glances at me over her shoulder. “Hi, Jenna. I thought I heard mom giving you crap when you walked in.”

“Penny, don't talk like that,” her mother says, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I don't think the baby can hear me, Mom. And even if she can, she's going to have to get used to the word crap. It's a staple of my vocabulary.”

Her mother sighs and turns around. She starts fussing with Penny's overnight bag, folding and refolding the same nightgowns.

“Jenna, come over here,” Penny says. “Tell me a story to take my mind off this pain.”

I step over and hover near the bed. I don't feel like I belong here in this intimate family moment, but no one else—besides their mother—seems to think I'm out of place.

I try to think of something that will keep her mind occupied when the next contraction hits.

She moans and leans over again, pressing her head to a wet towel clasped in her hands.

“Okay, so here's a story,” I say, edging closer to the bed and sitting next to Preston. “This one time when I was younger, probably about thirteen, I heard about a party a few high school girls were throwing. I wasn't invited, of course, young pipsqueak that I was, but I was also a rebel and didn't like to be told no. So I waited until my parents were asleep and crawled out the window of my bedroom, which let me tell you, was quite the task since it wasn't much bigger than I was at the time.

“I walked about three miles down this dirt and gravel road wearing nothing but a pair of worn flip-flops and my best sundress. I had managed to snag a tube of my mother's red lipstick, and I remember slathering it all over my lips like I was Marilyn Monroe or something. The whole way there, I thought about how I was going to walk up to that party and own the place. Like those seventeen year old girls were going to realize I was cool all of a sudden and invite me in to drink a beer.”

Mrs. Wright clears her throat loudly, but I don't even look at her. I guess beer is another word she doesn't want her precious grandchild to learn on her first day in the world. But Mason motions for me to keep talking.

I glance at the monitor and see the contraction reaching its peak.

“So I walk all this way and by the time I get there, my legs are covered in dust. One of my flip-flops is completely broken, so I'm walking barefoot in the gravel, working on some blisters that are going to hurt like hell come morning.

“I stroll up to this big house with cars parked all down the street,” I say. “There's music blasting from the open windows and inside, I can see all the cool older kids dancing and drinking, having a good time. But then I catch my reflection in the window of an old truck parked beside me. The lipstick is smeared around my lips and my hair is slicked back way too tight. Compared to the other girls, I realize my pretty red sundress with the daisies on it looks like a child's dress. At that point, I had no boobs to hold it up, so it hung down in front because it was probably a good full size too big on me. My legs were dirty and there were scratches down one leg where I'd had to climb through a stretch of blackberry bushes to get to the main highway. I looked completely ridiculous, and let me tell you, there were plenty of times since I wish I had a picture of how I looked that night, to remind me just how silly we can be when we're trying to please other people instead of just being ourselves.”

Penny lifts her head. There's moisture beaded on her cheeks and she's flushed pink, but she smiles at me.

“What happened?” she asks. “Did you go to the party and show them all how cool you were?”

I shake my head and lean across the bed to take her hand. “Nah. They would have just laughed at me. I ended up hiding behind that truck for another few hours, just watching them,” I say. “Wishing I could figure out a way to be popular.”