"You make it sound so easy," I sneered.
She brushed my unruly hair out of my face. "I just think it would be best for you. I'm on your side, Penn."
That did it. It felt like a dam was splitting open inside me. I couldn't name what I was feeling, so I turned it into anger.
"You're not really on my side," I snarled. "You're just like every other woman who’s had her head turned by the better things in life."
Corsica stepped back. "You reminded me how much I love camping. You're right; I don't need a lot of extra things or fancy things-"
"You just need things," I said. The cracking sensation in my chest was blinding. "You'll say anything you can to make me believe we're perfect together. Well, guess what, no couple is perfect. My parents are the best illustration of that."
"They are not perfect, but they are a great couple," Corsica declared. "They've been through so many ups and downs and missed connections and neglected opportunities, but they still love each other and they are still willing to try."
I shook off her grasp. "You'll really say anything, won't you? Just to make-believe in romance and lure some man down the aisle."
The words flowed out before I could stop them, and when I finally got myself under control, Corsica was gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Corsica - 17
"What decade does Penn think it is? The fifties?" I shouted. Ginny covered a smile, but my friend's humor did not take the edge off my anger. "He thinks, he actually thinks that I graduated from college with no other ambition than to catch a man and get married!"
"Thank God he’s wrong," Ginny muttered. ”Because if that was true, you'd be marrying Joshua. Ugh, he would be so ready to jump right into this conversation and try to marry you. How's that for a reversal! Does Penn know that? Maybe you should tell him."
"Tell him what? That I have someone who wants to marry me? Then I'm just proving his egotistical, chauvinistic, pig opinion."
"Whoa," Ginny said, holding up both hands. "That's a lot of names. Penn never struck me as a pig."
I snorted. "He'd be happy living in
a muddy ditch the rest of his life. You should have heard him explaining it so carefully in the woods. As if I were hanging on his every word and just waiting for him to propose."
"But you did sleep with him."
"Ginny! Whose side are you on?" I threw my hands up in the air then clenched them into fists. "Penn has been a pig this entire time. I just got a little distracted."
Ginny choked back a laugh.
I spun around. "This is all your fault, you know. If you hadn't teased me about being stuck in my shell… If you hadn't challenged me to be more spontaneous, then none of this would have ever happened."
My friend smiled to herself and shrugged. "Maybe you'll thank me some day."
"For letting him sleep with me and then accuse me of trying to coerce him into marriage?" I scoffed. "Not in this lifetime."
Ginny sighed. "He was upset about his parents' big announcement. Maybe he'd gotten used to be the only man in his mother's life."
"No. Not true," I shook my head hard. "Penn hadn't seen his mother in years. He'd stopped talking to her after she defended his father. Penn said she needed to make her own mistakes, and he needed to get on with his life."
"But now his parents are back in his life. And, so are you," Ginny said. "It's got him in a panic. He doesn't know how to deal with a family suddenly popping up and surrounding him. He just accidentally took it out on you."
I dropped down and yanked my suitcase out from under the bed. It had been a long bus ride back to Monterey, but Ginny had arrived just minutes after me. She'd heard more than enough via cell phone to know that I probably needed a ride back to Santa Cruz.
I stood up and slammed the suitcase on the bed. "Maybe. Maybe we'll never know, because I'm leaving. He doesn't need me around anymore, except for one thing–that is definitely never happening again."
Ginny clapped her hands and then swung open the closet door. "All right, then, let's do this. We'll get you packed up and out of here. You can stop by the lounge on your way out of town and tell them you can't perform this weekend."
I unzipped the empty suitcase, but the zipper felt heavy. "I forgot about my gig."