Dreaming of His Pen Pal's Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,58

his parents were more important to him than I was. They wanted him to choose someone different.”

“How long were you guys together?”

“Six years.”

“And it took them six years to figure out they didn’t want him to be with you?”

“I think they thought he’d come to his senses. But they finally gave him an ultimatum. I guess for a long time they’d been kind of working on him, just telling him how I wasn’t good for him. I think they thought I was kind of simple, and when I decided to come back to Mistletoe and not take the job that I’d been offered in the city that paid a lot more, I guess they put their foot down and told him it was either them or me.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” She stretched her towel, carefully folding it, like it was imperative that she match the corners up exactly. “You’d think after six years, that was a pretty big time investment in a relationship, and he loved me. Maybe he did. But...when he was given a choice...he didn’t choose me.”

Dante looked at the floor like he didn’t know what to say. Probably he was uncomfortable, because even though it’d been a while, the thought still cut. Pretty deep. Not that she was still in love with Alex. She wasn’t, but the idea that she could invest so much time in him, thinking they were looking at a long-term thing, and he could decide someone else would be more important—that hurt.

“It wasn’t his parents. I didn’t expect him to love me more than them. But whoever he ends up with—he basically chose someone, anyone else, rather than me.”

“You’re not out of line to expect your man to love you more than he loves his parents. It’s a different kind of love, and he can love both, but sounds to me like maybe you’re better off without him, because obviously he should have chosen you over them. Maybe you dodged a bullet.”

“That’s exactly what I ended up having to tell myself. That it was good that I knew then that when he was given a choice, I wasn’t first. It was hard at the time. But like you said, it was for the best.”

Dante looked like he commiserated with her, but as she studied him, she didn’t think he quite made the connection.

She pushed her hair back. It probably looked terrible. Still, she needed to make sure he understood. “I determined that I was never going to take second place in any romantic relationship again. Never.”

She’d gotten the towel folded into a perfect square, and she set it down on the table, smoothing it off with her hand. “I’m sure you understand what I’m saying.” Really, she wasn’t sure he did.

She straightened and looked at him.

It took what felt like a long time of their eyes meeting before understanding dawned across his features.

“The football conversation,” he finally said.

She nodded.

“I didn’t realize that was your background.”

“You explained what football meant to you. It was like your family. I wouldn’t ask you to give that up. It’s what has gotten you to where you are. But I guess you understand now where I’m coming from too. I did six years of second place. It was a wasted six years. I’m not going to take second place again, not in a romantic relationship.”

His jaw bunched, then jutted out. He nodded, no trace of the smiles they’d shared all day and for most of the time he’d been in Mistletoe. “Appreciate you explaining that to me. I understand now. What you meant when we were talking about it.”

“Yeah.” Funny how she’d not known him very long, but this felt like a goodbye that was going to hurt. Maybe even one she’d regret.

But after experiencing what she had, she’d be foolish to walk into another relationship knowing that she wasn’t the most important thing and knowing that he would choose something else over her.

“I guess this is goodbye?”

“Maybe—”

He held a hand up. “Stop. Don’t even say maybe we can still be friends.”

“Can’t we?”

He looked away and rolled his towel up, then let loose with a flick of his wrist. It curled out and snapped. He looked back at her. “Does what’s between us feel like friends to you?”

It was her turn to look away. Because he was right. If she had friendly feelings toward someone, she didn’t have to constantly remind herself that she was only going to be friends with them.

“No,” she said, soft and low, not wanting to admit