Worth the Chance (Watertown University #2)

33. Eliza

Chapter 33

Eliza

S unday morning I wake up with a groan. My sleep has been so-so over the past week. At night when I’m alone I can’t help but think of Garrett. In the few short weeks of realness that we got, it was better than any other relationship I’ve experienced. Granted my only real experience was with Sam but I went on a few dates and had a few hookups over the past few years. None of the guys come close to Garrett. He was attentive, kind, smart, and seemed like he was truly opening up to me. Until he wasn’t. It hurts, knowing that while I was ready to bare my soul to him, he didn’t want to do the same. I wonder if it’s me.

I wonder if one day he’ll meet some gorgeous girl who he gives it all to. The thought has my chest tightening. Of course I want him to be happy but selfishly I want it to be with me. Saying I was in love with him would be crazy. It was two weeks. But my heart was headed that way. There’s just something about him.

I force myself out of bed and downstairs where my mom sits on the barstool at the kitchen island, sipping her coffee. Wordlessly, I head to the coffee machine to make my own latte. Grateful I left all my supplies here and bought a new one for the house in Watertown.

“Morning, mom.” I take the seat next to her after grabbing one of the muffins from the display she has on the counter.

“Morning, darling.” We both sip on our coffee, enjoying the way the beverage seems to warm us from the inside out. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” I feign indifference.

“Lying to your mother now, are you?” Mom raises an eyebrow at me over the rim of her mug.

“It’s just…I don’t even know.”

“It’s about the guy?” I nod at her question. “Well sweetie you should do whatever you feel is right.”

“My head and heart say two different things.” I can’t help but slump in my seat.

“That’s always a tricky thing.”

“Says you, the woman who always follows her heart.”

“That’s what you think.” My eyebrows shoot up. My whole life I’ve known my mom to follow her heart religiously. So I thought anyway.

“After your dad passed it was like Dean was perfectly placed into my life. You know how we knew each other growing up but then he moved away right before high school.” I nod. “Well he moved back to town the year dad passed. He was even at the funeral.” I gasp at her confession. I knew they knew each other years ago and then he opened a business in town but no clue he was at my dads funeral.

“It was a shock to see him, of course. He then reached out a few weeks later asking how I was. We chatted on and off for a few months. Well, I started developing this little crush on him, I guess. I mean I had one on him when we were eight and it’s almost like it came back. As soon as I felt it I distanced myself from him. Thought it was too soon to feel that way after losing the person I loved. ”

My mom knew dad was sick for about a year before he passed. It was something they hid from us so we’d enjoy every moment with him and not worry about him. You might think it would hurt to hear your mom developed feelings so quickly after losing the love of her life but she had time to grieve before he was ever really gone.

“I didn’t answer his calls for months. I was so torn between thinking I should feel nothing but sadness and feeling like your dad sent him back for me.”

“How did you know what to do?”

“Well, when I distanced myself I listened to my head. What I thought I should feel and what I thought others expected of me. But Dean was persistent and patient. He sent me flowers every week.” Now that she mentions it I do remember a plethora of flowers in the house. They were expected the first month after the funeral but it lasted way longer than that, nearly a year. “He’d write little notes. ‘Hope you're okay’ or ‘If you need someone to talk to, please reach out.’ One day I called him up to tell him that I couldn’t be open to him but long story short we ended up getting coffee and my heart won over.”

“I’m glad it did.” I grab my moms hand in my own.

“Me too. But I think you should know there’s no right or wrong way to go about this. It’s a choice you have to make and your life will play out accordingly. There’s not just one path to happiness.” She has a point, my mom really always has the best advice. I love the thought that there’s not just one correct way to live our lives but more so that our lives are made up of a series of decisions we make.

After I eat my muffin and finish my latte, I head back upstairs to pack the duffle bag I brought back up. The conversation with my mom plays on a loop in my head. My stupid heart wants to stay open and hopeful that Garrett will change his mind but my head wants me to walk away. I mean how pathetic would it be for me to just hope for this boy to change his mind. He’s just a boy. Garrett is just a boy. He’s a nice guy but he’s not my guy and that’s okay. I decide to follow my head and to protect my heart. I need to move on from him.

Garrett

As I anxiously await for Eliza’s arrival, I clean the whole house top to bottom, well besides her room because that would be crossing a line when she’s not even speaking to me. I also pull out her recipe book and attempt to make her vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting. They don’t look quite as good as hers but they don’t look half bad. Just as I plate them on the little display case she has on the counter, I hear the faint sounds of a car pulling into the driveway. Quickly, I put the lid on the case and survey my surroundings. Everything’s clean, good. I run my hands down my shirt like that’ll smooth out any wrinkles before jogging to the door and down the front steps. Eliza’s in her trunk reaching for her duffle but I reach around her and grab it, slinging it over my shoulder.

“Hey.” She snaps, her words die when she looks up and our eyes lock.

“Hi.” The words are a little hoarse so I clear my throat. “Welcome home.” I smile but she doesn’t. Dang.

“Thanks.” Her eyes don’t sparkle the way they usually do. “I can take that.” She points to the bag slung over my shoulder.

“I got it.” She glares at me but I don’t give in. El shrugs her shoulders like it’s not worth the fight and closes her trunk. I let her walk ahead of me inside and my eyes may wonder down to where her leggings hug her curves. I only let them rest there for a second before forcing my gaze back up. I follow as she heads up to her room and awkwardly hang back in the doorway as she enters the space.

“Well you might as well come in and put it on the bed.” She’s not even looking at me and I can almost hear the eye roll. I plop the duffle onto her bed before moving back to the doorway. Wordlessly, she unpacks her bag, hanging up her clothes in the closet. Not wanting to creepily watch her I head back downstairs to get started on dinner.

I bought all the necessities to make tacos since I know it’s one of her favorite foods. I even got the crunchy shells since she prefers those over the soft ones. Thirty minutes later Eliza comes down the stairs and gives me a half smile when she sees me in the kitchen.

“Tacos?” I hold up the tray of shells.

“Oh. I can make myself something.”

“There’s plenty.” I gesture to the counter around us which is lined with all different toppings and a huge pan of ground beef.

“Okay.” Her words aren’t cold but they aren’t exactly warm either. My chest tightens, knowing what I’ve done. It’s okay though. I’m going to fix it. This is just a baby step. I grab two plates from the cabinet and hand her one.

“Ladies first.” She loads up her plate with a few shells before assembling her tacos. Mid-assembly she pauses looking up at the counter her eyes land on the stand she usually displays her desserts in.

“Did you make cupcakes?”

“Yeah, I did. I followed your recipe.”

“Why?” She looks hesitantly between the cookies and me.

“El, there's so much I want to say but I want to start with, I'm sorry.” Her eyes drop from my face to her plate.

“Garrett, please it’s fine.” She shakes her head as she finishes assembling her tacos.

“No, I… ”

“Please.” She cuts me off and the crack in her voice nearly tears me in two. “It’s fine. Let’s just eat.” Not wanting to cause her any more pain than I already have, I concede. We eat our dinners in silence at the counter. I want to reach out, to comfort her but I know it’ll only make things worse. I need to take one step at a time. To show her I’m here, to show here I’m willing to take a real chance on us.