Romance Impossible(72)

I told him about the situation with Jill and Eric, against my better judgment, because I couldn't help myself. He immediately went apoplectic. At least, that's how I remember it.

"Do not get involved. Do I really have to tell you this?" He looked like he wanted to punch me in the mouth, and for once, I wasn't really sure why. "Look, I know people never see their own patterns, but are you actually blind?"

"This isn't the same as Barbara," I muttered, slamming my desk drawer shut. "Jillian's over him, she just - she's just struggling, that's all."

"Are you listening to yourself?"

"Why do you always insist on giving advice in these situations? You know I'm just going to do what I want. Is it just for bragging rights? For the perverse pleasure of saying 'I told you so?'"

Beckett sighed, stepping back. Deflated, though I wasn't sure why. "No," he said. "No, I actually just...genuinely don't want you to get hurt. God only knows why."

What could I possibly say to that?

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," I insisted. "And if I do, well, that's my fault. Not yours."

"You really don't get it, do you?" He made a little chopping motion with his hand, along with every word, to emphasize his point. "Everything you do affects the people around you. What's going to happen to the restaurant if you have another breakdown, like last time?"

I didn't remember that so-called "breakdown" exactly the way he did, but as usual, there was no point in arguing about it.

"Last time we talked about this, you were practically carving me and Jill's names with a heart around them in your tree-house," I said. "I don't understand what your problem is now."

"You're impossible," he said, throwing up his hands before storming out of the office.

Well, there's no need to be so dramatic.

It was true - one time, I thought I'd come close to being Barbara's first choice. In hindsight I realized I never had been. I realized we weren't some tragic, romantic story of the love that could never be. We simply weren't. It didn't matter why. But back then, I thought I'd had a chance and lost it, and it was...

I didn't like thinking about it now.

But it wasn't like that with Jill. We were ill-fated for entirely different reasons, and I was willing to accept that reality. I was done fighting it.

I was almost completely sure.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Persillade





If a mirepoix ever becomes too pedestrian for your tastes, consider the persillade - shallots, garlic and parsley make a perfect addition to many dishes. But never discount the humble mirepoix and its simple, earthy flavors. It satisfies a need for the simpler things in life.#p#分页标题#e#





- Excerpted from Dylan: A Lifetime of Recipes





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Jill





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People change all the time, and they seldom do you the courtesy of letting you know beforehand.

I remember the day I woke up and realized I didn't love Eric anymore. I had an egg sandwich for breakfast, runny yolk, toasted English muffin, a slice of sharp white Vermont cheddar and a squirt of Sriracha. It's one of my favorite breakfasts, and for some reason it tasted particularly good that morning.

I took Heidi for a long walk in the crisp autumn air, savoring the sound of the leaves crunching beneath my feet.

It wasn't until my second cup of coffee that I realized I hadn't thought about Eric all morning.

A little later, I realized that I would never take him back.

I'd felt so fragile for such a long time, so focused on the ever-dwindling hope of his return, that this was a revelation. How strong I'd become in the past few months. And I hadn't even noticed until then.

But now, I felt brittle. And I hated him for it. How could he still affect me like this? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. There must be something wrong with me. I'd spent so long convincing myself that I was strong, that I'd moved on with my life, I'd almost convinced myself it was true.

My first day back at the restaurant was pure hell. I drifted to and from my station like a ghost, barely focusing on my work enough to avoid cutting off a finger. I assume I didn't screw anything up, because Max didn't say a word to me all night.

It took me so long to tidy up my station that by the time I looked up, the place had emptied out almost completely. Only Max was left, and I realized he was watching me.

"You can talk about it, you know," he said, very suddenly. I would have jumped, if I was capable of being startled in my current mood.

"If you want to, I mean," he said. "It just...it seems like there's something weighing on your mind."

I paused, swallowed hard, and told him exactly what had happened. Just one or two brief sentences, but the words felt so raw in my throat that they hurt to speak.