Five Years and Still Second Best

When Austin James refused to peel shrimp for me again, I calmly told him we were done.

He frowned, irritated.

"Over something this small? Nora Sullivan, you know I'm severely allergic to shrimp. I can't even touch them."

Yes. I knew.

Five years ago, when he confessed to me, he'd smiled and said,

"Nori, you're allergic to seafood too. We were made for each other."

Five years later, at Skylar Henson's welcome-home dinner.

Right in front of me, Austin peeled shrimp, one after another, without stopping.

Skylar dipped her head, shy.

"Austin, you always said you'd only ever peel shrimp for me. Now you have to do it for Nora too."

"When have I ever broken a promise to you?"

He said it lightly, flicking the shrimp meat into her bowl.

"I only got together with Nora because she's allergic to seafood."

"I've never peeled a single shrimp for her."

Open, unhidden favoritism, and he gave all of it to Skylar.

So what did I get?

I thought about it for a long time. Long enough that the tears burned against the back of my hand.

In the end I slid the engagement ring off my finger.

I didn't want Skylar's personal shrimp-peeling machine anymore.

...

When I told him it was over, Austin didn't even glance up.

His eyes never left his phone screen.

He was busy texting Skylar back.

He didn't notice when I took off the ring, either.

A voice message from Skylar pinged.

"I'm home too. So tiiired."

He caught the tiny shift in her tone and sat straight up.

"The AC in the private room was too cold tonight. You sound a little stuffed up. Don't catch a chill."

"I had some cold medicine sent to you. Take a dose before bed. Be good."

I stood there, not moving.

The ring dug into my palm until it hurt.

Skylar sent another voice message, her voice all sweet and coy.

"Aw, Austin, you're so annoying. I know, I know, just take care of Nora."

He answered without a second's pause.

"Nora isn't like you. She doesn't need anyone to take care of her."

Not like her.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

It meant we didn't matter the same to him.

In the end I couldn't hold it in. The words just came out.

"You're severely allergic to shrimp. So how were you able to peel shrimp for Skylar?"

He looked at me, and something flickered in his eyes.

"You're actually crying?"

He hadn't expected me to keep clinging to this.

"I carry allergy medicine on me. I took some earlier. It's worn off now."

"Skylar's the little sister I grew up with. She's from a broken home. She's starved for love, and she's sensitive."

"If I don't peel shrimp for her, she starts overthinking everything. I have to be mindful of how she feels."

I still remember the way everyone in that room looked at me.

Pity. Mockery.

Skylar's feelings mattered. Mine didn't.

He hesitated a moment, then sighed like it was all such a burden.

"There's really no reason for you to be jealous of Skylar."

"Stop crying. When you cry it's a little... dramatic. It doesn't suit you."

The last time Skylar had a breakup fight overseas, she called Austin sobbing.

He went out of his mind. He booked the earliest flight on the spot.

He threw his luggage together while soothing her over the phone.

"There, there, don't cry. Our little princess's tears are pearls. So precious."

She was the little princess. I was the dramatic one.

He didn't bother with me after that.

He pulled on his coat and headed for the door.

"I'm still worried about Skylar."

"I'll go check on her. I'll be back later. Get to bed early."

The door closed.

I stayed frozen where I stood.

Until the cat circled my feet, meowing and meowing.

Snowball was hungry.

I crouched down, stroked his head, then stood and went back to peeling shrimp.