Chapter 11
Eleven
Tabitha
“Tabs!” Angie said to me when I returned. “Where’s Henry?”
I’d pasted on a smile. “Oh, he’s right behind me. Said he wanted to check on some stuff, but I wanted to get out of this rain, so I ran back.”
That explanation seemed to satisfy Angie.
“I need a shower, and I need to dry off,” I said. “And then maybe I’ll just call it a night. I’m pretty tired from the drive.”
“Sure,” Angie said. “Tomorrow we have a bridal party luncheon in town.”
I nodded and smiled.
Now I’m lying on my bed in the guest bedroom, freshly showered, freshly dried, and feeling like complete crap.
I just need to make it through Saturday.
Two more days. That’s it. Then I can drive home Sunday and leave all of this behind.
For now, I’ll smile. I’ll help set up centerpieces and laugh at inside jokes I don’t feel part of. I’ll fix Angie’s veil and tell her she looks perfect, and she will. She deserves perfect.
I’ll stand beside her while she says her vows, and I won’t let my hands shake. I won’t let the tears slip. I won’t think about Henry. Not his voice. Not the way he looked at me like I meant something, just once, before I told him to fuck off.
I’ll get through the rehearsal dinner. I’ll toast to love like I believe in it. I’ll dance. I’ll pose for pictures. I’ll be the friend Angie needs.
Because this isn’t about me.
Not yet.
But when the last candle burns out and the bride drives off with her new last name and the world goes quiet again—
Then I’ll fall apart.
Not before.
Not here.
Not while anyone’s watching.
I wake up naturally as the sun shines through the window.
For a moment, I’m not sure where I am.
Then… The soreness between my legs reminds me.
I’m at Angie’s parents’ house.
Last night, her brother fucked me in the barn.
It’s not a bad soreness. It actually feels kind of good. The ache of being well satisfied.
I just showered last night, but I shower again.
I don’t really wake up unless I shower. This time I blow my hair dry so it falls in soft waves around my shoulders. I look in the mirror.
I like my honey blond.
All of Angie’s other bridesmaids are brunettes.
I’ll be the only blonde. Just Henry and me in the wedding party because Jason has brown hair as well.
I smile slightly at the thought.
Except Henry’s an asshole.
Then I smile again, this time big.
I will be happy—or at least put on a good show. I will do it for Angie and for Jason, because after what they’ve been through over the past six months, they deserve everything wonderful.
As for Henry…
He’s going through some crap. I need to be aware of that, show some compassion.
Forget the fact that he hasn’t shown any compassion toward me.
I’ll do it. I’ll do it all.
Just two more days.
Then I’ll get back in my car and drive home to my apartment in Boulder.
I was hoping I’d be heading back to school for a surgical seminar that begins next week.
I was on the waitlist, but I didn’t get a call.
It’s too late now, for sure. Maybe I’ll go home to my parents’ house for a few weeks until the fall semester of med school begins.
Sometimes it helps to sleep in your own bed, even when you’re almost twenty-four years old.
I draw in a deep breath, put on a denim miniskirt and a green T-shirt, slide my feet into flip flops, and then exhale.
Time to face the music.
I walk out of the bedroom and follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen.
Angie’s mom, who I’ve only met once, is in the kitchen, along with who I assume is the cook and housekeeper.
Mrs. Simpson looks up when she sees me enter. “Tabitha,” she says, “so great to see you. I’m sorry that Bryce and I weren’t here to welcome you when you got in yesterday.”
“Oh, no worries, Mrs. Simpson.”
She smiles. “Didn’t I tell you the last time we met? Call me Marj. Everyone does.”
“Sure. Marj.” I offer a forced smile. “Thank you. But Angie and Sage”—I swallow—“and Henry were here.”
“Yes, Henry is having his whole house redone, so he’ll be here for a few more weeks since Dave and Maddie are in the guesthouse while their house is being built.
Frankly, I’m happy he’s here.” She gazes wistfully out the window.
“I was never one of those moms who couldn’t wait for her kids to get out of the nest. I miss my kids every day they’re not here. ”
I smile. Marjorie is so beautiful and so nice. Angie and Sage both look a lot like her. “I wish my mom were more like that,” I say.
“I’m sure she loves you very much.”
“Oh, she does. But she enjoys being an empty nester.”
“I suppose there are a lot of good things about it,” Marjorie agrees. “I’m just glad Sage is still here. Though I’m sure she’ll get the bug eventually and build her own house somewhere on the property. All the kids do.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I suppose when your family owns a zillion acres on the Colorado Western Slope, the sky is the limit.
“Anya can get you some coffee if you’d like,” she says.
I shake my head. “No need to bother her. I can get it myself.”
“That’s fine, if you’d rather.” Marj gestures to the coffeepot.
Anya smiles at me and hands me a mug. “Here you go, Miss Tabitha.”
“Just Tabitha’s fine. Please.”
She nods. “Certainly, as you wish.”
I pour myself a cup of coffee. I don’t add anything as I prefer it black.
“Have a seat right here next to me,” Marjorie says, patting a chair.
I smile and take a seat.
“Bryce and Sage went into the office already, since they’ll be leaving early for the big rehearsal tonight. Angie is still in bed.”
I clear my throat. “And Henry?” I ask.
She laughs lightly. “Up with the birds, as usual. I think he wanted to go for a ride on Thunder.”
Thunder. I remember the stallion he introduced me to last night.
“I met all the horses at the nearest barn yesterday,” I say. “They certainly are beautiful animals.”
“Do you ride?”
“No. Never have. I’ve always thought that one day I’d like to learn.”
“Feel free to stay here any time. Bryce or Henry could teach you. Or Sage. Angie never took to it quite as much, but she has a mare named Penelope who she adores.”
“Do you ride?” I ask.
“Love it,” she says. “My brothers used to hate me following them around all the time. For the first ten years of my life, I thought I was a boy like them.”
I swallow my sip of coffee and laugh. Marjorie makes me feel very at home.
Though I wonder how she’d feel about me if she knew what I did with her son in the barn last night.
I take another sip of coffee. “So tell me about this restaurant we’re going to in town today for the bridal party luncheon.”
“Lorenzo’s,” Marjorie says, “run by Lisa Lorenzo in Snow Creek. Her dishes are amazing, and coming from me, that’s a compliment. Trust me.”
I smile. “Oh yeah, I remember your cooking from the last time I was here.”
“I’m planning to join as well.” She frowns. “It’s sad, really, that both of Jason’s parents are deceased, and he doesn’t have any siblings.”
I nod. “Yeah, it is sad.”
“But Bryce and I have embraced him. He’s an honorary son now, just like Maddie is an honorary daughter.”
I give her another smile, and this time it’s genuine.
“I wish my own mother were more like you,” I say.
“I guess I already said that.” I look down.
“Don’t get me wrong. She was a good mom and all.
But both she and Dad worked outside the home, so my sister, Sam, and I were alone a lot.
Daycare kids, until we were old enough to stay by ourselves.
Once Sam was in seventh grade, she was responsible for me after school. ”
“I’m sure your parents did the best they could,” Marjorie says.
I nod. “They did. At least one of them showed up for every function we ever had, which was good, even if they couldn’t both make it.
And they taught us to strive for greatness.
Both Sam and I got through college on scholarships.
There aren’t a lot of scholarships available for medical school, so I’m on my own there. ”
“Student loans?” she asks.
“Unfortunately, yes. But being a surgeon is my dream, so I’ll do whatever it takes. My parents taught me that, if nothing else. Work toward your goals. Work as hard as you can, and do the best that you can.”
“Those are pretty amazing values, I’d say,” Marjorie says.
I take another sip of coffee. “They are, and I know Mom and Dad feel badly that they can’t help more with medical school. They do what they can, but for the rest I have to take out loans. It’s not like I have a job like I did in college. Med school takes all my time.”
“Yes, Angie has told us about how rigorous the study is.” She lays a hand on my forearm. “You know Bryce and I are always here for you if you need anything.”
Did Marjorie Simpson just offer to pay for my medical school?
No, of course not. She’s just being nice.
“That’s very kind of you,” I say, “but I’ll manage. I always have.”
She smiles. “So you’re hoping to be a surgeon?” She takes a sip of orange juice. “Like Jason.”
“Yes, it’s been my dream forever.”
“Funny,” she says. “You and Angie couldn’t be more different. She hates the idea of surgery, yet she’s marrying a surgeon. She’s always dreamed of following in my sister-in-law’s footsteps and becoming a psychiatrist.”
“Dr. Steel is an amazing psychiatrist,” I say. “Very well known. I’d heard of her even before med school.”
“I know she would want you to call her Melanie,” Marjorie says.
“Yes, she told me to do that when I was here last time, but it still feels so… I don’t know.” I shrug. “She’s top in her field, top in the country. To me she’ll always be Dr. Steel.” Then I frown. “Speaking of her… How is your brother doing?”
Marjorie draws in a breath. “Good, actually, and thank you for asking. He’s fatigued and ill a lot of the time, but he’s responding well to his experimental treatment, and though he’s still bald as a cue ball, he’s keeping a good attitude.”
“I’m so sorry for what your family is going through.”
Her jaw trembles slightly, but she quickly steadies it.
“We’ll get through it. We Steels always do.
I do adore my big brother. All my brothers, actually.
They’re so much older than I am, but they were always so good at letting me tag along at all the big-boy things they did even though I know I drove them crazy.
Joe’s the one who taught me how to shoot a gun.
And Talon taught me how to ride a horse. ”
“I’m sure if anyone can get through this, your brother can,” I say, hoping I’m telling the truth.
She nods. “Everyone in the family is determined to stay positive. Bradley’s having the hardest time of it, which has upped the responsibility on Henry to run the foundation. And now Henry… Well… He hasn’t been himself.”
I nod. “I will certainly always be indebted to him. He saved our lives that night.”
“I know he did. And he doesn’t feel any guilt about that, but he took a life, and that’s difficult for anyone.”
“I can imagine that it is.”
“But Melanie is working with him—when he takes the time to see her, that is.”
“I thought she specialized in childhood trauma,” I say.
“She does, or did, since she’s technically retired. But she’s the best at any kind of trauma.”
I nod.
I’m not sure what to say.
Turns out I don’t need to say anything, though, because Henry—his ears no doubt burning—walks into the kitchen at that exact moment.