A Love Like Ours

Chapter 20

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did!"

Jeff looked down at the countertop for a moment, at the case of beer he'd brought back, his brows drawing together. "No, you didn't," he said again, even more fear in his voice this time, "I would've remembered that."

Glenne rolled her eyes. "Jeff, why would I tell you to pick up a case of beer and not a bottle of wine, hm? You know I don't like beer. Harry doesn't either."

Jeff looked from her to me and back again. I didn't even bother trying to suppress my smirk. I didn't add that I had heard her ask, either.

"Because you already had a bottle?" Jeff offered pathetically.

Glenne sighed loudly and started to untie her apron. "Forget it. I'll get it myself."

"No!" Jeff said, looking worried and eager to please. "No, you stay. I'll just run back out and grab something. What are we feeling, red, white?"

Glenne stared at him, her gaze softening only by a smidge. "White, please."

"White," Jeff said, backing up towards the hallway, "Got it. Be back in ten."

He was gone before he could be scolded anymore, the case of beer left on the counter. I moved toward it, started opening it.

Glenne groaned. "If I didn't love him so much, I swear I would've killed him by now."

I chuckled, pulling a few bottles out from the case. "I wouldn't have blamed you."

I started putting some of the beer into the fridge so that they'd be cold by the time we sat down for dinner, and Glenne opened the oven, peering in at the roast chicken she'd put in an hour and a half ago.

"Nearly there," she said, taking the thermometer out of it. She closed the oven door and set the thermometer down on the counter, and didn't even meet my eye as she asked, "So... you ready to talk about it yet?"

I closed the door of the fridge, and paused, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew exactly what she was talking about, and a strange mixture of nerves, guilt, and pressure flooded through me.

"Cause we can leave it for the dinner conversation, if you'd rather that," she offered coolly, like it didn't bother her one way or the other. "But I think at this point, the more time we waste, the worse off you'll be."

I had already told Jeff and Glenne everything that Madelyn had revealed. I'd told them about her pregnancy, the way it had resulted from a one night stand with Rob after she'd seen pictures of me leaving Jenna's. I'd told them about the miscarriage. The way she'd convinced herself that she would never be able to be with me again. I'd told them a little bit about that last time I saw her—when we slept together—how it finally made sense, the way she'd acted that night. I'd told them about the year afterwards, where she'd slipped into a depression, and Rob had been there to help her out of it. I'd told them that she'd ended the engagement before she got here. That she was going to finalize it when she went back to New York, regardless of what I chose to do. And I told them why she'd wanted to continue the break in the first place—because she felt like she had to make something of herself before she could be with me.

And I'd told them all of that a week ago.

"She's leaving tomorrow, you know," Glenne said then, pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked at her, surprised, and overwhelmed by the same sense of urgency I'd felt when Madelyn had texted me to tell me herself. "You're in touch with her?"

Glenne shrugged, curled her blonde hair behind an ear. "I like her. We exchanged numbers that first night."

It seemed so long ago—that first night at the bar where Jeff had invited anyone and everyone, Jenna included. But really it had only been a few weeks.