Page 80 of Mom Com

“It’s not that you’re a villain...” I say, trying to step it back. “It’s just,” I pause, not actually sure anymore who Wilder is in my life.

“Complicated?” he offers.

“Definitely that,” I say, but it still feels stingy. Here he is showing up for me in exactly the way I need and I’m trying to write it off as a fluke, just waiting until he does something terrible so I can be right about him. I tuck a few stray hairs behind my ear. “I’m being unfair.”

“You’re being honest.”

I shake my head. “See there you go again. Stop being so generous with me,” I say, unsure what to make of either of us.

“What if I don’t want to stop?” he says.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

Unlike me, he doesn’t shy away from the conversation. “What if I think you got the raw end of a very bad deal all those years ago, and that you deserve as much generosity as I can give you?”

It’s getting increasingly hard to look at him. “Wilder,” I start and stop. “It wasn’t your...” I’m about to say fault, but isn’t that what I’ve been telling myself all these years, that without my bond with Wilder that this town became unbearable, an oppressive weight of rejection and loneliness? I rub my hands over my face, suddenly flustered. “You’re doing that thing...” I say, exasperated. “That Wilder thing, where you show up at the perfect moment and say exactly what I need to hear. The thing that always pulled me back from the metaphorical edge when we were teens. The thing that—” I stop abruptly, realizing I was about to saymade me fall in love with you.

I think he must get the idea, though, because he goes still like he needs a moment to consider his response.

But something in me doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to hold back the things I’ve so carefully hidden. Some part of me is just plain exhausted. And I’m suddenly seeing my agreement with Liv differently, not so much as an opportunity to hash things out, but as a way to voice the things in my past that I don’t have the strength to carry anymore.

Returning from my umpteenth bathroom trip, I spot Jake on the edge of the dance floor with Benny.

“Hey,” I say, figuring this is as good a time as any to tell him I’m going home and will (not so) regretfully miss the after-party. I’ll just blame it on being pregnant and tired and he won’t take it personally. It’s not that Jake has been a great date, but in a way, I get it. I can’t have the kind of fun he wants to, jumping all over the dance floor and sneaking drinks from Matt’s flask.

But the moment I walk up to him, the music changes to a slow song and the DJ says, “This one is for all you couples out there, the last one of the night.”

We both look up at the DJ booth, now perfectly stuck in the awkward gray area of do or don’t.

“Shall we?” Jake says after a beat. He holds his hand out to me.

For a second, I hesitate, remembering my promise to Wilder. But it’s not like I can bring that up now; it’d be a disaster. Plus, I’ve barely danced with Jake at all, and to deny him this would be unkind. So, I place my hand in his and walk onto the dance floor. I’m sure Wilder is dancing with Elaina anyway. It’s definitely less awkward this way, I think, trying to convince myself that some small part of me isn’t disappointed.

Jake eyes me as he puts one hand on my nonexistent waist. “Everything okay?”

“Definitely,” I say, as we sway back and forth at a distance because of my belly. Even so, at this proximity, I catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath and it’s stronger than I expected. For a flash of a second, I get frustrated, but I let it go. I’m leaving anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Let him have fun.

Jake doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

I give him a questioning look. “Huh?”

Jake shrugs. “Nothing,” he says, but after another full rotation, he continues anyway. “It’s just that you’ve been out of sorts since we got here.”

For a second, I’m confused. I actually thought I was doing a pretty good job of being pleasant and trying not to cramp his night. “Jake, I’m pregnant. I can’t do—”

“No, I know,” he says. “I don’t mean that. You’ve just been sort of... well, sulky.”

I press my lips together, trying to suppress the flare of hormones that makes me take that the wrong way. But considering the looseness in his voice, and his whiskey-scented breath, I decide once again to let it go.

“Now you’re mad?” he asks like I’m just proving his point. “I just meant that you’ve been so quiet, ya know? Not like your usual self.”

And this gets me, stings disproportionately, because he’s right. I stop dancing. “No, I haven’t been my usual self,” I say, matter-of-factly. “But it isn’t just tonight. And you’d know that if you’d spent any time with me these past few months.”

Jake rubs his hand over his face. “Okay, Maddi, you’re probably right,” he says like I’m being unreasonable but he’s too magnanimous to point it out, which really fires me up. Doesn’t he know how hard it is for me to even be here like this, how alone I’ve felt these past few months, how I can’t ever justbeanymore? Maybe he doesn’t know the extent of it, but he can’t be totally oblivious, either. Not to mention that I’ve been doing my damnedest to not interfere with his good time tonight. But even though I want to stomp on his foot, I don’t.

“Look, I know this isn’t the perfect situation,” I say, keeping my voice calm, trying to factor in that he’s probably saying half of this because of the whiskey. “I’ll admit that I’m not the best prom date. And to be truthful, I’m exhausted. So, I think it’ll just be easier on everyone if I go home and let you go to the after-party with your friends.”

Jake takes a breath like he should have expected this. “Fine. I’ll drive you home if that’s what you want.”