A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Elliott

ELLIOTT

There. It’s all out now. Well, not really, but the most damaging things. I throw my hands up as if tossing confetti to welcome the New Year. “I go get a new prescription every couple of months, but my vision is getting worse and worse.”

“Degenerative,” she finally says, and I hate that that’s one of the few words she’s spoken tonight. She looks down at the table and back to me, open vulnerability in her expression. Sympathy—which I so don’t want. In fact, it lights a fire in me I know will rage out the things I need to tell Ry.

“How…long?” She swallows. “I just want you to talk. I don’t know what I don’t know. I don’t know what to ask.” She pulls her mocktail closer and takes a hearty pull on the straw.

“I know what you’re asking,” I say, so many things inside me shaking. Every cell vibrates, and I can’t look at her. I focus on the coaster in front of me, my eyes burning burning burning.

I really don’t want to cry tonight, but I fear it’s a battle I’m going to lose.

“When I was diagnosed five years ago, I was told it could take twenty or thirty years to go completely blind.” I take a breath, because I can only get one out at a time. “That we wouldn’t know until time passed. So I go to the doctor every two or three months, even now, and well, we have a pretty good trajectory now.”

I look out at the window, my throat so tight. “Right now, it’s predicted that I’ll be completely blind by the time I’m forty.” My voice cracks, and I drop my head again, this time taking off my glasses and shading my eyes as if it’s bright in here.

I close them, because they hurt, so I don’t see Ry leave her side of the booth and slide onto mine. She’s simply there, right at my side, and my immediate reaction is pure love for the woman.

I lean into her as the tears slip down my face. I wipe my eyes while she’s just…there. She links her arm through mine, and she’s shielding me from the rest of the dining room. I take a breath, so much more needing to be said.

“So that’s it,” I say, and thankfully, my voice doesn’t sound too nasally. “That’s why I don’t have serious relationships. That’s why I stay at Paper Trail.”

“They have free vision insurance,” she whispers.

“They pay for everything for my eyes,” I confirm. “I have no desire to leave and find another job. I just want routine. I want something I can do even if I can’t see, and I don’t know if that’s possible at Paper Trail or not, but I figure I can stock shelves…with some help.”

I glance over to her, but I can’t maintain eye contact as my emotions surge again. “I really didn’t bring you here to break-up,” I say. “Honestly. I don’t want to break-up with you, but I also can’t—” My voice breaks. “I can’t do this to you.”

I am nasally and weepy now, but I don’t care. I shake my head, my eyes hot and tight and wet. “I won’t doom you to a life of being a caregiver.”

“.”

“No, Ryanne.” I glare at her now, and honestly, the anger is so much easier than the pain and turmoil raging within me. At least I know what to do with anger. “No matter what you say, it won’t be right. You haven’t sat with this at all, and you need to. I’ve just given you a death sentence, and you can’t sit here ten minutes later and say it’ll be okay. It’s not okay.”

She pulls her arm back. “Okay.”

“You asked me to take Tuesday to detox from spending twenty-four-seven with you and your family, and I’m asking you to process this. Really process this.”

She nods, and I do too.

“I’m going blind,” I say. “I will be blind. And I really don’t want to subject anyone to having to care for me, and I thought I could control my feelings for you.” I shake my head, pure embarrassment and shame showering me now.

“But I let my crush get out of control. I let myself become part of your family. I allowed myself to fall in love with you, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispers.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand how good it feels to be in love with you, but also how much it hurts. I will not hurt you. I will not saddle you with my problems for the rest of your life. It’s not fair to you.”

I meet her eye again, and I can’t really tell what she’s thinking or feeling. Her starry-starry eyes simply gaze back at me, and she says, “Life isn’t fair.”

“No,” I say. “It’s not. And it’s not fair for me to be in love with you, and I hate that that’s what’s happened.” I take a deep breath, the core of my debate about to spill out. “I’m no good for you. I’m the one going blind, and I can see that.”

“Ell—”

“All right,” the waitress says, and I quickly turn my face away from her. I wipe my hand across my face as Ry slides to the end of the bench and gets up.

“You know what?” I face the waitress too. “Something’s come up, and we have to leave. Can you box this all up for us?”

“.”

“Oh.” The waitress has just set down my soup, and it looks amazing with melty, Swissy cheese and the rich, salty aroma of French onion soup. “Yeah, uh, sure. Let me…” She looks over her shoulder, and I take the moment to get up.

“Ry.” I extend my hand toward her. “I’ll walk you to the car and come back for the food.”

“I’ll go tell them to fire the mains,” the waitress says, and she practically runs off.

Ryanne stands, and she’s so beautiful and so amazing, and I can’t believe I’ve let myself get to this point. I take her into my arms and whisper, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Then I lead her out to the SUV, where she looks up at me with soulful eyes.

“I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’ll be right back.”

Ryanne has said very little, and I sigh as I walk back into Coleman’s to pay and get our food. I have no plans for the rest of the evening, when an hour ago, I’d been hoping for an amazing, hopeful start to a new year.

She hasn’t said how she found out, but it had to have come from Anna. I honestly can’t blame her—no, the only person who can carry that blame is me.

I have to wait about ten minutes for our food, but I get it, pay, and head back to the car. I get in the passenger seat and blow out my breath. “You want to go home and change?”

I can’t imagine inviting her to come meet my mom or my cat. That’s what a girlfriend does, and now Ryanne and I are in a weird, in-between place where I don’t want to break-up with her, but I don’t see how I can be with her.

“We can just eat out of the back,” she says, and I nod. “I’ll drive us up to Lakeshore Lookout.”

I lean my head back and look out the windshield, but since I’m not driving, I don’t have to try to focus. I don’t see much, because it’s dark, and I eventually just close my eyes. We arrive, and I gather the food and open my door. Ry meets me at the tailgate, and she lifts it.

I steady her as she climbs up, and then I get up beside her and reach into the bag. We’ve eaten like this before, out of the back of one of our cars, behind the office supply store. It feels like what we’ve done at best friends, and I honestly need this tonight.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, wishing I could say it enough times for it to mean something. For those words to ensure that Ry won’t be hurt by the past month.

“I don’t want to break-up either.”

I nod as I hand her the cardboard container with her burrata in it. The stinging scent of the balsamic vinegar makes me smile, because Ry’s said she could drink it she loves it so much.

“You have to think about this for at least twenty-four hours,” I say. “Probably a lot longer.” I had to go through the entire grieving process—and some days I’m thrown back a step or two or three and have to move through them again.

Ryanne will have to do that too.

“I want you to take that time,” I say. “I want to answer whatever questions you have that come up.” I clear my throat and pull out my soup. “And, uh, I need more time off in only a couple of days. I’ll put it through the system in the morning.”

“Why?” she asks.

I smile and chuckle, though the sound is without merriment. “You won’t believe this, but there’s this organization in Michigan that gives away a guide dog to one person every Christmas. The ultimate Christmas gift. My mom put my name in, and I won.”

“Ell, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah.” I glance over to her. “My mom and I are going to go pick her up.” I look out into the night, the town lights of Cider Cove below us and creating a scene from a perfect picture book. “I’m really sorry, Ryanne.”

“I’ve heard you say it the other ten times,” she says.

“I can’t say it enough.” I finally take a bite of my soup, and the croutons are soggy now, but the flavor and salt are still prevalent. I moan and nod. “Yes, this is good.”

Ry reaches over and pats my forearm, and I give her a small smile in return. It’s all I can do right now—oh, and hope and pray and cross all my fingers that Ryanne will at least still be my best friend now that she knows about my vision.