Kiss and Don’t Tell

“What are you doing?” Max asks as he takes a seat next to me at the dining room table.

“Taking a quiz.”

“What kind of quiz?”

I lean back in my chair and say, “A career quiz.”

Max sighs heavily. “Why are you taking one of those stupid things? You know it’s not going to tell you what you want to hear.”

“And what is it exactly that I want to hear?”

He drums his fingers on the table. “You want a definitive answer about what you should do. That’s going to give you a broad variety of things to try. You already know that.”

The doorbell rings. “I got it,” Katherine says as she hurries down the stairs, phone in hand, most likely checking the Ring camera.

“And what exactly is that?”

“Kids. You love working with them, reading to them, spending time with them. It’s as simple as that.”

“Who sent you?” Katherine shouts.

Max and I both crane our necks to see a poor deliveryman trying to drop off a box. “Uh, I’m not sure. I was just told to deliver this at this address.”

Katherine pushes the package away. “You think I’m an idiot? I know that’s a bomb. Get away with that ticking murder box.”

“Jesus Christ,” Max mutters as he gets up from the table and goes to the door. He moves Katherine to the side and takes the package. “Sorry, my friend is wasted. Excuse her insanity.”

“I’m not—”

Max shuts the door and, instead of addressing Katherine, brings the package to the table and hands it to me.

“That guy was completely unmarked,” Katherine says, barreling down the hallway. “Delivery people always wear some sort of logo, advertising who they belong to. He was unmarked. That package is death.”

“I honestly can’t handle you right now.” Max holds his hand up to Katherine. “Please, go chew on a weed gummy or something. I need you to bring your insanity level down at least ten notches.” Max pushes the box toward me and says, “This is for you.”

“Me?” I ask, confused. “I didn’t order anything.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I know who it’s from.” Max smiles.

“What did you do?” I ask.

He drags his finger over the box. “I just happened to get a message from a certain hockey player, looking for your address in exchange for a certain hockey player’s phone number.”

“He didn’t,” I say.

“Oh, he did, but I told him I would give him the address without the phone number. I don’t want to look desperate. I’d rather shine in a one-on-one meeting, which Pacey promised would happen if you two get back together. So, you know I was already rooting for you two, but now I’m gung-ho about making it happen.”

“You sold out.”

He shakes his head and grows serious. “I would’ve given him the address even if he just asked, because I believe you two belong together.”

“When did you become a hopeless romantic?” I ask him as I peel off the tape.

“Not a hopeless romantic. But I’ve known you ever since high school. I saw your relationship with Josh, and I’ve seen your brief time with Pacey. Trust me when I say there’s a huge difference between the two. Pacey made you light up. Josh never did that.”

Because Pacey was different. He cared. He was interested. He was protective. He was helpful. He thought I mattered. From the way he held my hand, to carrying my bags for me, to the way he intently listened to my stories with his eyes focused on mine—it was different.

I mattered to him, and that’s the difference. In fact, I mattered so much that seeing me with Josh upset him instantly. Yes, I’m still angry that he didn’t tell me they were related once he realized, but he was truly fearful that I’d planned to see Josh. He was so worried that I’d leave him for Josh. I mattered to Pacey. He’d stopped to buy me flowers, even though he was the one who’d had the doctor’s appointment, something that would determine his future. Something I haven’t even asked him about. And yet, he bought me flowers. Oh God . . .

I reach into the box and pull out a six-pack of blueberry lavender cider.

“Ooh, what’s this?” Max asks, looking at the cans.

I smile to myself. “Cider we had in Banff. It was my favorite.”

“Okay. I have no idea how he made that happen, but I do believe that deserves a text message.”

I tip the box over to look inside. “Is there a note?”

“Does it need a note?” Max asks. “This is thoughtful. No note needed.”

He’s right. It is thoughtful. And I agree—I have no idea how Pacey pulled this off in such a short amount of time; I only messaged him yesterday. But I’m grateful.

“Can you put these in the fridge for me? We’ll have one a little later.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Max says.

As he walks away, I pick up my phone and move to the couch, granting myself some privacy. I pull up the text thread with Pacey and start typing.

Winnie: Just got some cider delivered to the house. Max confessed to giving away our address. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you.

There. Short, sweet, to the point.

I go to set my phone down, only for it to buzz in my hand.

Pacey: I’m glad it arrived. Enjoy it. I got some delivered to my place as well. Have a good night.

Oh . . . that was also short and sweet. To the point. For some reason, I expected more from him.

Confused, I text him back.

Winnie: You too.

“How is our main man?” Max asks, hopping over the couch and joining me.

I set my phone down, my thoughts running a mile a minute. “Good. He told me to have a good night.”

“Huh?” Max says, looking as confused as I feel. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“Well . . . I guess . . . we should toast to him tonight.”

“I guess so.”

“LOOK AT THIS,” I say to Katherine as we take a walk through the park across from our townhome. “Ants are so fascinating, aren’t they?”

“Are you asking me to look at an ant hill?”

“Yes, look. Do you think they all have their own apartments underground?”

“I know one thing.” Katherine crosses her arms. “They sure as hell don’t have a proper way of preventing assholes from destroying their homes.”

I squat down and watch the little guys work in and out of their home.

“Is this what life has come to? Staring at ant hills?”

“You can go home if you want,” I say. “I know too much fresh air can be toxic to your well-being.”

“I’m glad you get me.” Without another word, Katherine heads back toward the house as I decide to take a seat in the grass, right next to the sidewalk.

I stare up at the partially cloudy sky and take in the sun, welcoming the warm rays as they soak into my skin.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out to find a text from Pacey. I can’t help my physical reaction as my pulse picks up and my stomach does a somersault from the sight of his name.

I open up his text message.

Pacey: Hope you’re having a good day.

It’s so simple, and yet, it feels . . . good. He’s thinking about me. Going about his day, he makes time to see how I’m doing.

I text him back.

Winnie: I am. Thank you. Sitting in a park right now, in the grass, looking up at the sky. What are you doing?

I send the text before I can change my mind. I’m engaging in conversation, and even though that’s scary, I think Max is right—no one has ever made me happier and maybe I should give this a chance. Pacey didn’t get the chance to explain why he hid his relationship with Josh, but I have wondered if Max was right. And I never thought of Pacey as someone who’d lie to protect himself . . . so maybe I need to be willing to ask in this situation, rather than assume. He really isn’t someone who’d use me as a pawn . . .

My phone buzzes and I still my breath as I peek down at it.

Pacey: Sounds as if you’re finding some peace. I’m headed home from the arena. Just got done with some PT.

Guilt consumes me as I quickly text him back.

Winnie: Oh my God, I never asked you what the doctor said. Is everything okay?

I impatiently stare at my phone, waiting for a response. Thankfully, he texts back quickly, the little dots indicating I’m about to get a response.

Pacey: Apparently my neck is fucked up from many years of abuse, and then the slap shot to the head tipped everything over the edge. Working with Doc on a solid therapy program. Won’t be heading back to Banff this summer, hence the cider.

I let out a sigh of relief and text him back.

Winnie: That’s really great to hear. I’m sure you’re relieved.

Pacey: I am. Doc has been pretty easy on me so far, but that’s because he’s taking it slow, not wanting to spike a migraine. I know he’s going to increase the therapy and it’s going to be a bitch.

Winnie: I’m sure you can handle it. Are you missing the boys?

Pacey: They actually all came home. I think Taters and Hornsby are going to head back to the cabin, but Posey and Holmes are staying in town. Posey mentioned something about his fear of packing on the pounds with access to fudge and me not being there to stop him.

Winnie: I never would’ve guessed he’d be concerned about his figure.

Pacey: A new development. Have you had any of the cider?

Winnie: Max and I drank all of it the other night. It went down quick. You?

Pacey: Destroyed it. Posey of course helped me.

Winnie: I wouldn’t think any less.

Pacey: Yeah . . . well, just wanted to make sure you were having a good day.

Winnie: Thank you. That was sweet.

Pacey: All right. Enjoy the sun, Winnie.

Smiling, I set my phone down and lift my chin to the sky again, closing my eyes. This is something I miss doing with my mom. How often did we simply sit outside in the sun and appreciate its warmth?

Mom, did you have anything to do with this? You read all of those romance books, and I’m pretty sure you’re orchestrating this entire thing for your pleasure.

DING—DONG.

“Katherine, don’t even bother,” Max says, going to the door before Katherine can fly down the stairs and fire off an obnoxious round of questions at the person on the other side of the door, questions that include: who sent you, who do you work for, how much are they paying you, and are you aware the Ring camera is recording everything you’re saying?

“Thank you,” Max says as I peek my head around the corner to see what it is. Max turns around with a bag in hand.

A very familiar bag.

A bag that makes my mouth water.

“Tacos,” I whisper.

“Did you order?” Max asks.

“No . . . you didn’t?”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Oh, let me guess—lover boy sent them. You better text him. While you do that, I’ll be serving up these tacos on a platter.”

I walk over to my phone and pull up a text thread that’s given me so much joy over the past few days. Something I wasn’t sure I’d feel this close to losing Mom.

Winnie: Tacos? You really know how to cut me deep.

His response is immediate.

Pacey: My mouth was watering while ordering them. I’m jealous.

Winnie: Just the smell alone is giving me all the feels.

Pacey: Take a picture. I want to see what they look like.

Max sets a serving plate on the dining room table and then goes back to the kitchen to grab drinks from the fridge.

“Katherine, lover boy sent tacos,” Max shouts.

“Were they delivered by a stranger?”

“Yes,” Max shouts.

“Enjoy your arsenic,” Katherine shoots back.

“More for us,” Max says with a smile.

I walk over to the table and take a picture for Pacey. I send it with a drooling emoji.

I sit down as my phone buzzes.

Pacey: Damn, I’m really jealous now. Especially since I have some shit salad for dinner.

I pick up a taco and take a bite while texting him back with the other hand.

Winnie: Salad? That’s boring. Why a salad? Don’t tell me Doc has you on some special meal plan.

Pacey: Unfortunately, he does.

Winnie: Does he know about your cider consumption?

Pacey: No, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t go shouting that around.

Winnie: Lol, so I’m going to retract my Sunday morning announcement from the paper, then.

Pacey: Do people even get the Sunday paper anymore?

Winnie: I don’t think so.

Max pokes my arm. “Look at you all giddy.”

I take another bite of my taco. “I’m not giddy.”

“Yes, you are. Your face is the definition of giddy.”

Ignoring him, I go back to my texts.

Pacey: I would say you’re showing your age, but we both know that’s not the truth.

Winnie: As an old man yourself, you would know.

Pacey: I found a gray hair this morning.

Winnie: No, you didn’t.

Pacey: Right by my ear. I showed Posey, and he choked on his own saliva from laughter.

Winnie: Still don’t believe you. It’s probably just a really blond piece of hair.

Pacey: You know, that’s exactly what I’m going to call it. My platinum strand.

Winnie: Lol! How incredibly fancy of you.

Pacey: That’s me, a fancy fuck.

I snort and then glance at Max, who sports a knowing look on his face. He doesn’t have to say anything—he just needs to glance at me and I know exactly what he’s thinking. I really like this man. I forgive him, too.

Pacey and I are supposed to be together.

PACEY: Hey, how was your day?

I roll to my side on my bed and text Pacey back. It’s been a long day and I was starting to worry that I wasn’t going to hear from him. That should tell me all I need to know.

Winnie: Hey. It was long.

Pacey: Yeah? Anything you want to talk about?

Winnie: Nothing bad, just spent a very long time online with a recruiter.

Pacey: A recruiter, huh? That sounds interesting.

Winnie: It was. Apparently, even though I don’t have a college degree, I have enough experience and proof of my work to possibly run a consulting business on building a proper reading and learning environment for kids.

Pacey: What? Seriously? Winnie, that’s pretty damn cool.

I smile proudly.

Winnie: It is, actually. There’s a company that’s looking for someone like me with my experience and background. They’re putting together packages of programs and environments to sell nationally to schools, libraries, and bookstores. The hope is to inspire interactive and creative play that’s been designed around books, and that it’ll encourage children to read. I have an interview tomorrow.

Pacey: Damn, girl, that’s pretty badass. Are you excited?

Winnie: Sort of. I don’t feel qualified, at all. Max thinks otherwise. I really don’t want to get my hopes up, but the job is working remotely, not working with kids directly. It’s about bettering their lives, which is nice, and it’s mostly all online consulting. It seems pretty chill, but fun. Pay isn’t superb, but I feel as if that doesn’t matter when I love what I’m doing.

Pacey: Could not agree more. I’m proud of you, Winnie.

Tears well up in my eyes.

Winnie: Thank you.

Pacey: Well, good luck. I know you’ll dominate.

I SHUT my laptop and then reach into my shirt and pull off my bra, flinging it to the ground.

God, I’ve never sweated so much in my entire life.

“Are you done?” Max asks from the other side of my bedroom door.

“Yup.”

He opens the door, and just like the good friend he is, he hands me an ice-cold margarita.

“Bless you,” I say.

“Chips and salsa are downstairs, waiting. I’ll let you get changed and then you can tell me all about the interview.”

“Sounds great.”

My phone buzzes and Max smirks.

“One guess who that is.”

Rolling my eyes, I push at Max and he leaves me to my room as I look at my phone.

Yup, we both knew who it was.

Pacey: The anticipation is killing me. How did it go?

Winnie: Just ended.

My phone buzzes in my hand, but it isn’t a text. Pacey is actually calling me.

Oh God, do I answer?

Texting is easy, you can think about your response, but a phone call?

I bite my bottom lip, trying to decide.

God, just answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His deep baritone rings through the phone. “I hope this is okay, me calling.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s totally cool,” I say awkwardly.

“Okay, because I really wanted to hear you tell me about the interview. You killed it, didn’t you?”

I move out of my desk chair and go to my bed, where I lie on my stomach and kick up my heels. I feel like a teenager, talking to her crush for the first time on the phone . . . and if I think about it, this is the first time I’m talking to him on the phone.

“I wouldn’t say killed it. I said something awkward but I think it came out more endearing.”

“What did you say?”

I feel at ease talking to him on the phone, comfortable. “They asked those weird questions, you know, that big tech companies ask. They asked how much I would charge to walk every dog in Seattle.”

“What?” He laughs, and it’s such an addicting sound. I want to hear it more.

“That was my same reaction, but I held it together. I cleared my throat and asked, ‘Am I in charge of picking up feces, as well?’”

“Great follow-up question.”

“I thought so. And they said yes. So then I cringed and said, ‘Well, that would be an upcharge,’ and I left it at that. I didn’t give them an exact answer, which I know they wanted, but that’s all I could offer on the spot today.”

“I think it’s a great answer. It’s endearing.”

“Thank you. Luckily, I was brought to them highly recommended by their recruiter, so hopefully I have a leg up on the competition.”

“I’m sure you do. You got it, Winnie. I really think you did.”

“We shall see.” Not wanting to get off the phone, I ask, “How’s physical therapy going? Have you had any migraines?”

“Woke up with a headache today, but it was nothing compared to what I’ve experienced in the past. Doc said that initial PT will stir up the muscles and ligaments and to expect pain. But other than that, it’s going pretty well. I’ve been seeing an ART therapist, and no, not the drawing kind.”

“Active release, right?” I ask.

“You know about that?”

“Yeah, Max has been studying to become certified. He swears by it. He’s practiced on me and Katherine and it really feels like magic. Although, if it were truly magic, he’d be able to find Katherine’s chill button and release that.”

He chuckles. “Let me guess, Katherine didn’t partake in tacos?”

“Her direct quote was ‘enjoy your arsenic.’”

“Arsenic—now that’s pretty strong.”

“That’s what I thought. You’d think she’d choose something more subtle. But she just went for it.”

“Ballsy going big like that, but she seems like a ballsy woman.”

I chuckle. “That she is.”

“MAX! KATHERINE!” I scream as I run down the stairs, tripping on the last one and flying into the front door with a crash.

“Jesus Christ,” Max says, coming to the entryway to help me up. “What the hell are you doing?”

When I catch my breath, I look him in the eyes and whisper, “I got it.”

“Got what?” His eyes widen. “Wait, the job? You got the job?”

I nod as tears start to form in my eyes.

Max lifts me up and over his broad shoulder and parades me down the hallway while shouting, “Our girl got the job.”

“Really?” Katherine asks, standing from the couch.

Max sets me down and I look at both of them. “Yes, I got it. I got the freaking job.”

We all look at each other, and then in unison we scream while dancing in circles.

“Holy shit, that’s amazing,” Max says. “We’re celebrating. I’m getting tacos.”

Katherine holds up her hand. “I’ll go get them. You start on the margaritas.”

Max groans. “I used the last of the tequila on the other ones.”

Katherine points her finger at him. “This is exactly why you save tequila for big moments, not a random Tuesday. You get the booze, I’ll get the tacos.” She looks at me. “Are you going to want flan?” She waves her hand. “What am I saying? Of course you will, and some of those churros. We’re on it. Come on, Max.”

He winks at me. “Be right back. We love you.”

I smile and wave as they head out the door. I sit back on the armrest of the couch and then stare at my phone.

Do I call him?

Too nervous, but wanting to tell him, I send him a text.

Winnie: Hope I’m not bothering you, but I thought I’d just tell you that I got the job.

I press send and clutch my phone, only for it to immediately buzz with a phone call.

Pacey.

Unable to control my smile, I answer the phone. “Hello?”

“A text? You’re going to tell me that fucking fantastic news through a text? Winnie, holy shit, this is amazing.”

And just like that, tears well in my eyes, because I can hear true excitement in his voice. Pride.

“Thank you. I’m really excited.”

“As you should be. Please tell me Max and Katherine are celebrating with you tonight.”

“Yes, they’re currently on their way to get tacos, dessert, and tequila for margaritas.”

“Good. Wow, this is incredible. I’m really happy for you, Winnie. Proud.”

“Thank you, Pacey.”

He sighs and I can tell he wants to say something but he stays silent.

“What is it?” I ask, curious as to what he’s holding back.

“Nothing, just . . . hell. I just wish I was there to give you a hug. But I’m glad you have Katherine and Max. Have fun celebrating. You deserve it.” His voice has a distinct sadness to it and it makes me think that he honestly wishes he was here. Who am I kidding? Of course he does. He’s never led me to believe otherwise about his intentions. He’s always been upfront, honest, which makes me feel like a fool for reacting the way I did.

Taking a giant leap in—well, whatever this is, I say, “I wish you were here too, Pacey.”