Purposefully Accidental

Chapter Twenty-Two

Then, 2018

"So you're telling me," I said numbly, "that the reason he's been ghosting me was because he was... filming?"

Clara Gibbs nodded, almost frantically. "And he signed an NDA—I'm not supposed to tell you anything about it. Not until the contest's over and the show's finally airing. But, um, apparently, he made it to the finals. And they're inviting the families to come watch and support. I've talked to Mom and Dad and we all think it'd be nice if you could also be there."

I blinked, still digesting the information she'd been telling me in the past half hour. That early last year, Jonah had applied to audition for a new, MasterChef-style cooking competition that was casting for its first season of the show. Initially, as a joke between him and Clara, but once it actually looked like he had a chance, he began seriously working on his submissions.

Clara told me that the auditioning process had taken months before it was even determined that he'd made it to the shortlist. There were so many forms to fill in, interviews, self-tapes, and even psych tests.

Apparently, that week after we saw each other at the campus and he flew back to New York, he was informed that he'd made it to the top 48 candidates. Our communication after that weekend was sparse, because he was busy sending self-tapes of himself cooking in his kitchen and meeting producers and other contestants to make it to the top 24, and he was unsure about telling me just in case he didn't make it.

And he couldn't really explain any of it to me, anyway, because he'd signed a bunch of paperwork that prevented him from doing so.

"And... you and your mom and dad... think it's a good idea for me to be there?" I asked hesitantly.

Clara smiled at me, and reached out to squeeze my wrist. "I mean, you're practically family already."

I shook my head and scoffed. "No, I'm—Clara, you know I didn't even say yes."

"Yet." She shrugged. "I know my brother's stupid. I spent weeks yelling at him to just... tell you. But he didn't. That's his fault."

"What if he doesn't want me to be there? I mean, I did ghost him back." I laughed, but it wasn't a funny sound. "I left him kneeling on the ground with a ring, and he didn't pick up when I finally called him. Are you sure he hasn't returned the ring to the shop he bought it from?"

"Hannah. My stupid brother loves you."

My heart did a funny fluttery thing in my ribcage.

"He only didn't pick up your call because he couldn't. He was already in LA like, two days after New Year's. They confiscated his phone for privacy reasons. We could only communicate with him through e-mails, once a week."

I thought it over, and the timing made sense. I'd left Tony's wedding with Freddie—initially, to just help him pack his stuff and get him a taxi to the airport so he could be with his sick dad as soon as possible. But then he'd completely broken down in his hotel room, and I couldn't just send him away like that.

So, in a rush, I'd booked the earliest flight to New York for Freddie and myself, called Leann to tell everyone I had to skip Christmas dinner with my newly wedded brother and that I was very sorry but my friend really needed me, and spent the next few days shadowing Freddie in case he collapsed from sheer exhaustion as he waited by his dad's hospital bed.

It was only during my flight back home, the morning of New Year's Eve, that I realized I'd left Jonah at the wedding without even giving my answer to his proposal. That I'd just left him hanging there.