Spring's Second Chance (Fun For the Holiday's) Page 2

  He’d want concrete evidence, proof, and facts to be able to make sense of what I was telling him, but there would be none. I wouldn’t have any of those things to offer him, except my feelings, emotions, and gut instincts that screamed so loud that they refused to be ignored any longer. But how did you make someone accept reason when what I was saying was so unreasonable?

  “Do you want to stay, Spring? Or do you want to head to my place? Or grab some dinner?” Mitchell asked, his eyes letting me know that he’d be fine with whichever option I chose.

  My only saving grace in all of this was that I hadn’t moved in with him. I kept putting that off until we were actually married, telling him that we needed at least one thing to stay sacred and that cohabitating was my solution. He begrudgingly agreed but only because he’d started building us our dream house. From scratch. With his own two hands. We were supposed to move in and start our life together in less than two months.

  The bile rose in my throat, and I looked at my sister once more, her hazel eyes giving me strength.

  “Go.” She waved us off. “It’s only one dozen. I can handle that.”

  “I know you can,” I said with an awkward smile. “But the store still has an hour before closing.”

  “It’s fine. The tourists aren’t here yet,” she pushed, knowing that I’d have no ground to argue.

  The tourists came twice a year—winter and summer. We had gorgeous, fluffy snowflakes that served as the perfect backdrop for winter weddings, and during the summer, our lake was the centerpiece of the whole town, showing off her various shades of blue.

  “See you later, Dee.” Mitchell waved at my sister, his smile taking up his whole face.

  “Night, you guys,” she said before clamping her mouth shut tight.

  If I didn’t spend the night at Mitchell’s, I’d see her when I got home, and we could talk then.

  He reached for my hand, interlaced our fingers, and opened the bakery door for me. “Dinner or my place?” he asked.

  I sucked in a breath, hoping it would give me the strength I needed. But my breath failed me. My heart was beating so fast that I thought it might come out of my chest. My head spun. I knew I needed to talk to him about this, to stop it before it was too late, but that was just so damn hard to do. Those particular words were stuck in my throat.

  I spotted his truck right out front. “Let’s just go to your place,” I said, and he looked so happy.

  He deserved so much better.

  “You okay, Spring?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he opened the door for me and I hopped inside.

  My stomach twisted again. I bent my body in half, my hand wrapped around my middle as I squeezed it tight. I might very well throw up on his floor mat.

  “Spring?” he said as the driver’s door slammed closed. “Are you okay?”

  I straightened my body and looked at him. “I …” My eyes watered so hard and fast, and before I knew it, I was crying so hard that I thought I might hyperventilate.

  “You what? What’s the matter?” His voice sounded so genuinely pained for me as he lovingly rubbed his hand on my back, trying to calm me down.

  I tried to wipe away the tears, but there were too many. I stared at the diamond on my hand. I had loved that ring so much at first. When he’d been on one knee, looking up at me through his unfairly long lashes, asking me to marry him, I’d felt so excited and hopeful.

  Where were any of those emotions now?

  Now, I longed to see my finger bare, with nothing on it. No billboard announcing to the world that I was taken, off the market … unavailable. No ball and chain across my ring finger, dragging me down into the depths of the sea until I drowned in it.

  “Spring?”

  I moved my eyes from my ring to Mitchell’s face. “I don’t think I want to get married,” I whispered the words so quietly that I secretly hoped he hadn’t heard them.

  Mitchell reared back in his seat like I’d socked him with a two-by-four. He grabbed the baseball hat from his head and started pulling at it with his hands, twisting like it was a wet rag. “What? You don’t want to get married?”

  I wasn’t sure that I had the determination or strength to say the words again, so I didn’t say anything. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. A throat I had memorized. Could probably draw with my eyes closed if someone asked me to.

  “It’s just cold feet, babe. That’s all. This is totally normal.” He almost sounded convinced.

  “It’s not cold feet,” I said, my voice still barely above a whisper.

  “Then, what is it?” he asked, his voice breaking, and I swore my heart broke too.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why. I just know that I don’t want to.”

  A single tear rolled down his cheek, and I hated myself for hurting him. But I knew that I’d have hated myself even more if I’d stayed with him and pretended like this was what I still wanted when it wasn’t. Eventually, we’d have found ourselves right back in this place … me wanting out … him begging me to stay.

  “Did something happen? Did you meet someone?” His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even remotely mad. It was longing to understand, desperately trying to comprehend how the girl who had been his whole world for nine years suddenly wanted out of it.

  “Nothing happened.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it hard. “I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, but I am.”

  “Sleep on it,” he said.

  I knew he was hoping that I’d change my mind tomorrow. That, somehow, another night’s sleep would change everything. That I’d wake up, refreshed, heart back in place, walking the proverbial line.

  The sweet gesture made me snap though. Here I was, trying to do the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, and Mitchell was asking me to put it off for another day. He was basically going to force me to tell him all of this again tomorrow. To break his heart another time.

  “I’ve been sleeping on it, Mitchell,” I said. “I’ve been sleeping on it,” I repeated the sentiment, feeling exhausted and brokenhearted.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, running his fingers across the top of his head. “I still want this. I still want you. I love you, Spring.”

  I knew all of those things. God, how I knew all of those things. And I wished that they were enough.

  “It doesn’t make any sense. I know that. But it’s killing me inside, Mitch. I feel like I’m dying,” I said, not even stopping to think about how my words might make him feel. They were hurtful even though they were true. He didn’t deserve to hear them.

  His jaw snapped shut before his eyes narrowed a little. “I’m sorry the idea of marrying me is so revolting to you.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I tried to explain, but it was too late. I’d said too much. I’d pushed too far.

  “Just go,” he said.

  Even though it was exactly what I’d wanted, I felt like the lowest human being on the planet as I pushed out of his truck and watched as he sped away, gravel spitting off of his tires as he left.

  NOW WHAT?

  SPRING

  I stood there on the sidewalk for a minute, maybe longer, until someone came up behind me and told me how much she was looking forward to the wedding. My wedding. The one I’d just called off.

  Forcing a smile, I told her, “Thank you,” and quickly spun around on my heels and headed back inside the bakery.

  Dee looked up, her eyes widening when she realized it was me. “Oh,” she said. “You told him?”

  “I told him.”

  She walked from the back and straight to our front door and locked it before switching the sign to Closed and putting the key in her apron pocket. We shouldn’t have closed already, but there was no point in arguing with Dee.

  “You are the toughest person I know,” she said, and it made me wince.

  I didn’t feel tough. Hurting someone who had done nothing to deserve it didn’t make me feel strong. It made me feel cr
uel.

  “Spring, look at me,” Dee demanded, and I did as she’d asked. “You did something that took an insane amount of strength. Do you hear me?”

  I nodded as she continued, “Most people would have shoved those feelings down and gone through with it anyway, knowing it was wrong or that they didn’t want to do it anymore.”

  “But I don’t have a reason, you know? I don’t know why I feel this way. I just do,” I said, the admittance only making myself feel worse. Everything would have been so much easier to handle emotionally if there had at least been a reason why.

  “I know you feel like a bad person right now, but you’re not. You did the right thing. If you hadn’t done it now, you would have done it eventually. And when? After you had kids and felt even more trapped?”

  I listened to her words before remembering that she’d told me she knew I didn’t want to marry him. When I had confessed that to her earlier, she had simply said, “I know.”

  “How did you know?”

  “That you wanted out?”

  “Yeah. I never said anything.”

  “You didn’t have to. I had a feeling. I mean, you started acting like everything was such a chore,” she said, and I swore that I gasped.

  “I did?”

  “I’m actually not sure if chore is the right word. But it was like you did stuff because you were supposed to do it. Not because you wanted to. You seemed …” She tapped her chin, searching for a word. “Obligated? I don’t know, but you stopped smiling a while ago, and that smile never came back.”

  I hadn’t realized any of those things. I’d been so caught up in wishing that I could turn my heart around and go back in time. It seemed so much easier that way. This decision was definitely harder.

  “I love Mitchell as a person,” I started to say, but Dee interrupted me.

  “But you’re not in love with him,” she finished for me.

  “Yeah. And that’s so cliché that I hate even saying it, but it’s the truth. And I never even understood what it meant until now. It always sounded so stupid. But there’s a difference. Between loving someone and being in love with them.”

  “Of course there is. But I think the longer you’re with a person, the harder it is to tell those feelings apart,” she offered and I bristled, assuming that she thought that I was doing the wrong thing.

  “You think I don’t know anymore because it’s been nine years?”

  “No, I’m not saying that at all. I just think for a lot of people, the lines of love become blurred between passion and friendship, but you always know, deep in your bones, that you’re still in love with that person. That’s not ever a question.” I must have made some sort of face in response because she smirked at me and pointed. “See? You’re not.”

  “I’m not. And I know that I’m not with every fiber of my being,” I admitted, still feeling crappy.

  “Then, you did the right thing.” She stepped toward me and placed her hands on my shoulders. “You did the right thing. Mitchell is hurting now, but he’ll eventually get over it. You did both of you a favor.”

  Was that what I’d done? Would Mitchell really ever see it that way, or would he hate me for the rest of his life and never forgive me?

  “I should give him back the ring, right?” I looked down at it before pulling it off, feeling my finger grow lighter.

  “I would.”

  “How do I cancel a whole entire wedding?” I asked, feeling the weight land squarely on my shoulders for the first time. It was heavy. Everything had been meticulously planned and paid for.

  “I can do all of that for you. Whatever you want. I’ll talk to Mom and Dad. Whatever you need, just let me know.”

  It was official. I had the best older sister in the history of the world.

  “The entire town is going to hate me,” I said.

  Because how did you not pick sides when something like this happened? You did, and they would, and it wasn’t going to be mine.

  “I can think of ten girls off the top of my head who are going to be thanking you instead of hating you,” she said, and I managed to laugh.

  “You’re not wrong there,” I agreed before thinking of all the people I was letting down by making this decision.

  Mitchell. His family. Our family. Our friends. The town who had watched us grow up together.

  I hadn’t thought about any of that before. I’d only been thinking about myself and how I didn’t want to walk down the aisle anymore.

  “Do you feel relieved?” Dee asked, and I inhaled a sharp breath.

  “I feel …” I paused. “I don’t feel relieved because there’s still so much to do. But I feel like I can breathe again, if that makes any sense.”

  We cleaned the kitchen, wiped down all the tables, and worked in relative silence for the next hour, the two of us taking our time instead of rushing the way we usually did. I was grateful for the reprieve until my phone pinged out a sound, and I looked down, noticing a text from Mitchell.

  I glanced up at my sister, who shot me a questioning look.

  “Mitchell,” I said, turning it around so she could see it was from him before I pressed on the message to read it. “He wants to come over and talk.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Dee said. “Do you want me to be there? I’ll stay in my room.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “Okay then. Text him that you’ll meet him at our place,” she said.

  We made sure all the ovens were off, the fridge and freezer doors were shut tight, and everything was in place for the night before we headed out the back and locked up.

  It didn’t take Mitchell long to arrive at our house. We’d just barely walked through the front door and thrown our purses on the kitchen counter when I heard his truck pull in.

  Dee told me, “Good luck,” and then she disappeared behind her bedroom door.

  Pulling the engagement ring from my pocket, I gently placed it on top of the kitchen table, so I wouldn’t forget to give it back to him.

  But when Mitchell walked through the door, his eyes landing on the ring and holding there, I thought I might have done the wrong thing. Maybe he still wanted me to take it back or change my mind. The ring sitting there, no longer on my finger, was like a neon sign telling him it was really over.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down before reaching for the ring and holding it between two of his fingers. It looked so dainty in his hand. “You can keep it.” He put it back down and slid it toward me.

  “I don’t think that’s right. You should have it back,” I said, not moving to touch it.

  I didn’t want the ring, and it didn’t belong to me. He’d paid for it. He should be able to take it back and get some money for it.

  “Look, Spring, I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on with you, but if you need more time,” he started, and my head shook of its own accord.

  “It’s not that. I don’t need more time. My mind isn’t going to change.”

  He sucked in a breath. “I know. I don’t even know why I said that.”

  “I wish I had a reason, Mitchell. Something that would make this make any kind of sense,” I started to explain, but he put his hand up to stop me.

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s … okay?” I asked, perplexed as to what he might possibly be saying.

  “There’s a part of me that knows you’re doing the right thing,” he admitted, looking like it pained him to say it though.

  “There is?”

  His eyes shot up, meeting mine. “I still love you. And I’d marry you tomorrow. But what if it’s because it’s all we’ve ever known? What if we’re both just going through the motions?”

  My heart skipped a beat as I tried to figure out his exact meaning while he continued, “You’re comfortable. I’m comfortable. We’re familiar. But is that love? The kind of love that lasts? I don’t know. I don’t have the answers, but you calling off the wedding”—he swallowed hard, like saying this out loud caused
him pain—“I know in my gut that it’s the right thing to do. But still …”

  I thought he was going to say more, but he stopped.

  “Are you just saying this to make me feel better?” I asked through a short laugh because he was truly giving me a gift right now.

  “No, Spring.” His head shook slowly. “I spent the last hour trying not to be pissed, sorting through my hurt pride and ego.”

  I leaned forward, both elbows on the table. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know that,” he said, and it made me feel only the tiniest bit better. “I’m not mad that you want to call off the wedding.”

  “You’re not?” I had no idea what the hell was happening, but I knew it was leaning toward being a good thing. One that meant we wouldn’t end our relationship on bad terms, where I was hated and despised for the rest of eternity.

  “No. I mean, I thought I was. I was really pissed, but then I realized that I felt something else too. I was excited. Excited at the idea of being single for the first time in my adult life. And if you and I getting married were right, I wouldn’t be feeling excited at all. You’re all I’ve ever known,” he said, stuttering a little, and I knew that meant that he was going to apologize and overexplain his feelings to me, but I didn’t need any of that.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’m not offended. I get it,” I said, and he visibly relaxed.

  “Is that how you feel? Amped up to date?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was either curious or simply wanted to be understood. Maybe if we were both on the same page, then it would make this easier to comprehend and move on from.

  “Not really. I mean, it’s not about being with someone else or meeting someone new for me. I just realized that this”—I waved my finger between our two bodies—“didn’t feel right anymore. That taking that next step was going to be a mistake.” I clenched my teeth together as I said the last word, but it didn’t trigger him like I’d thought it might.