Mai Tai'd Up(24)

“Yes, let me get back to my dusk, please,” I teased, and we headed back toward the truck. We walked in silence, and within a few seconds I felt the need to fill it. “My nights and weekends are pretty thin on excitement too, you know.”

Overshare. Overshare. Overshare.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, and I could feel my cheeks begin to burn.

Why in the world had I said that? I quickly said, “Yes, I’m actually enjoying the peace and quiet. It’s a good change of pace. So, Marge said you were involved with Vets Without Borders? Tell me about that.”

We’d reached the truck, and he went around to the back and started unloading the big bags of Dog Chow as I directed him toward the shed. As he unloaded, he told me all about this wonderful program. It’s exactly like what it sounds like: they go where the vets aren’t. They identify areas that need quality veterinary care, and doctors donate their time and service to that community. Pets, strays, you name it, they care for it. And as eighteen bags of Dow Chow were unloaded, he painted a picture of a coastal village in Guatemala, and the sweet people he met there. Sleeping in barracks with other volunteers, spending evenings around beach bonfires, working long hours in the hot sun. He was heading out again for another tour in a couple of months, to Belize, and he’d be gone twelve weeks again.

“How’d you get involved with them?” I asked as he stacked the last bag. For every one bag I lugged across the yard, he fireman-carried three. He wasn’t even out of breath, and I wondered what it took to make him pant a little. I further wondered why I was already a bit sad he was leaving for twelve weeks, when I barely knew him.

“Let’s just say I needed to get out of town for a while,” he said, his eyes darkening a bit.

“I totally understand. That’s why I’m up here. I couldn’t stand being in San Diego any longer,” I said, playing with a leaf that had fallen into his truck bed as he sat on the truck gate.

Looking intrigued, he said, “Oh, you have a story too? I bet it isn’t as bad as mine.”

Well, fudge. Now I was intrigued.

“Oh, mine’s pretty bad,” I warned, twirling the leaf.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” he asked.

“You think I’m just going to whip out my sad tale to see if it’s as big as yours?” I teased.

“Yes, that’s the general idea.” A last ray of sunshine beamed through the gathering clouds, gilding his face.

“You go first,” I said with a sigh.

As he began, his shoulders fell a bit. “Well, it’s very simple. Boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl date all through the end of high school and through college. Boy asks girl to marry him. Girl agrees. Boy and girl plan wedding, boy and girl move in together, boy and girl are very very happy—boy thinks. Then minutes before they’re to be married, boy gets left at the altar when girl decides she doesn’t want to be stuck in a small town the rest of her life. Girl leaves church, packs a bag, and moves to Los Angeles, leaving boy to explain to everyone in the church where the hell the bride has gone. Boy knows where, because girl was thoughtful enough to send a bitchy note with an even bitchier bridesmaid. Boy hears about a spot that just opened up in Guatemala, and takes the chance to get the hell out of town and away from everyone with their sad faces. Not unlike the one you’re making right now, although the gaping mouth is a nice touch I haven’t seen before.”

I closed my mouth immediately. “Let me get this straight,” I began, shaking my head in disbelief. “Your fiancée walked out on your wedding?”

“She did.”

“Oh, fudge.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing,” I said, eyes wide. “Continue.”

“That’s about it. We’d been together for a really long time; we’d practically grown up together. I knew her better than anyone—at least I thought I did. I just . . . I still can’t believe it happened. When someone you trust can do something like that to you . . .” He trailed off, his voice dark.

“I know,” I echoed, my brain whirling.

“Anyway,” he said, life sparking back into his eyes. “I showed you my sad story. Now . . .”

“You want to see mine?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He grinned.

I felt my heart pitter-patter. And also an icy stab—how could I tell him my story? His fiancée had ripped his heart out in front of everyone, and now he wanted me to tell him I essentially did the same to Charles?

Technically, Charles never made it to the altar. And technically, mercifully, we never had the kind of love it sounded like Lucas had with his ex. So technically, I could tell him and make him understand.