“Yes.” I let out my breath. “So what do I do? Do I ask him?”
“Ask him? I don’t know. Wouldn’t he have made it clear if he wanted us to know it was him?”
“But why would he do this?”
“Well, you told me that he heard your conversation with Mom about how they can’t pay for college, so maybe… the goodness of his heart?”
I stared at her blankly.
“Generosity?” she supplied.
“Wanting nothing in return?” I asked, just to be clear.
“Since he did it anonymously… looks that way.”
I still felt quite out of my depth. On the one hand, I didn’t know what I could say, and on the other hand, how could I not say anything?
“Dessert is served!” Mom called. “Rachel, Jane, what are you doing in the powder room?”
I followed Jane to the kitchen and proceeded to numb my confused state of mind with four slices of chocolate cake. The fact that Mom didn’t say anything showed just how blissed out three hundred thousand smackeroos made her—although when I reached for the fourth slice, I did catch her eyes drifting down to my waistline.
At home, I lit a vanilla candle and made myself a soothing mug of chamomile tea. I fully intended to watchLove Islanduntil I was in a state of advanced relaxation. And yet. My gaze kept drifting toward my phone on the coffee table, until finally I snatched it up and searched for Tempest Scholars.
There was a website. It was sparse, and under “About Us” it read, “Tempest Scholars is run by a group of anonymous benefactors in the Pacific Northwest.”
I searched for how to find out when a website was created. Two minutes later, I had confirmed that the domain had been purchased within the last week. So either the organization was brand new, or it was just a cover for whoever had sent the money. And I now had a pretty good idea who that was. But Jane had had a point: He’d done it anonymously. He didn’t want anything in return. So I just had to go on as if I didn’t know, as if I had no idea that Christopher Butkus—a man who was spontaneous enough to tell me he loved me, thoughtful enough to write me an apology letter—had paid my sisters’ college tuition and added a decade to my mother’s life in stress reduction.
I would put him out of my mind. I would. But you know how a song will keep playing in your head as your brain tries to figure out the lyrics? My brain, the poor old broad, couldn’t puzzle this one out. Christopher Butkus didn’t fit into any of my past experiences. As a single twentysomething in this, the twenty-first century, I thought I’d seen it all: the seductive ones who made eyes at you from across a party, the kindred spirits who confided all their secrets that very first night and then ended up having a girlfriend, the ones with piercings that would make a boomer faint. But nowit seemed that everything I’d known was on a smaller scale. I’d thought grand gestures only happened in Meg Ryan films. But that was the word for Christopher’s actions:grand.
But if I were Meg Ryan and he were Tom Hanks, everything would be out in the open and the grand gesture would be the finale. But it wasn’t like that at all: he’d had the wrong idea, the feelings were not mutual, and now he was simply apologizing. Hoping that I might forgive him for his idiocy. Would I? Forgive him?
CHAPTER 19
I NEEDED A HAPPYhour. I needed to sip a cold drink at a sunny sidewalk table downtown and feel the alcohol fizz through my veins. I put out an open call in the group chat and Sumira accepted.
It was a picture-perfect Friday afternoon. It was days like today that tricked people into moving to Seattle: the cerulean sky, the tang of sea salt in the air, and the contrast of warm sun with the slight nip of cool in the shade. Sumira and I got our usual table at Mr. West.
“You look hot,” she said by way of greeting. I was wearing my Daenerys sundress.
“Back at you.” She was wearing linen pants and a silk top, her black hair tumbling over one shoulder.
“Nothing like a drink with a friend to build up the old ego.” She grinned. We ordered rosé and a cheese plate, then dived into our latest life updates.
“Anything new with Christopher, since the last thing?” Sumira asked after we’d devoured most of the cheese. I’d already filled the girls in on the Tempest Scholars incident, and I hadn’t planned on bringing it up again today. Frankly, I was tired of thinking about him.
“No, nothing. I’m ready to close the book on that whole chapter.”
“Yeah. He was never right for you.” Sumira didn’t sound completely convinced. She fidgeted with the stem of her wineglass. “And we need to hold out for guys that are right for us.” Her voice grew stronger and she sat up straighter, giving me a level look. “Like, I could never have settled for any of the guys in my past, right? But Rachel—”
“Oh my God, yeah.” I paused to swill down my last gulp of wine. “Remember Ajay at the holiday party and how in love with you he was? Can you imagine if you’d settled for someone like him or Jamal? You are so out of their league.” I gestured to the waiter for another glass.
Sumira stared at me for a moment, uncharacteristically silent.
“What, do I have something in my teeth?”
“Uh—no. You’re fine.” She turned her head away from me, gazing across the street and chewing on her lip.
“Everything okay? Did you want another drink?”
