Chapter 4
4
HOPE
“C’mon, Hope,” Lucy whines. “Come out with us. You might actually have fun. And if Sebastian’s friend is half as hot as he is, you’ll thank me later,” she says, glancing over her shoulder and wiggling her eyebrows up and down. “Maybe you’ll even get lucky.”
Tension builds across my shoulders, and my smile grows more and more forced the longer she nags me to go out with them. “I don’t want to get lucky. I’m happy where I am right now.” I slide the key out of the lock and double-check that the door’s secure.
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You’re not happy. You’re scraping by through life. Mr. Right’s not just gonna turn up on your doorstep, you know.”
My stomach twists and folds in on itself. She says the words so flippantly, but I already had my Mr. Right. If I can’t have him, I don’t want anyone else.
I had my one true love with my soulmate—my one and only chance at happiness.
As hard as it’s been to accept that, at thirty-four, I’ve had my great love and lost it, I know I need to make peace with it somehow. I need to find happiness within myself, not depend on someone else. And some days I do. Even for weeks at a time, if I’m doing well.
Savannah wraps her arm around my shoulder. “At least come out. Evan’s with the in-laws for the weekend, and you should hang out with your girls. No pressure to talk to anyone of the opposite sex. I promise.” She squeezes me close. “I’ll personally keep all men away from you.” She releases me and flings her arms and legs out in some type of wacky karate move, causing laughter to bubble up and escape, and her purse drops to the pavement. The contents scatter everywhere—typical Savannah style.
The three of us rush to collect everything and stash it back inside. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go out with the girls. They’re always asking me, and I always say no. Maybe it would help lift my spirits and get me out of this funk I can’t seem to shake. I look at my colleagues and friends as they watch me with hopeful expressions.
I need to start living again. Maybe I should try to have some fun.
“Okay. I’ll come.” They jump up and down, squealing in delight, and I hold up my hands, freezing them on the spot. “On one condition.” I hold up one finger and they nod. “I’m honestly not looking to date. I’m not ready, and at this point, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, so please promise me you won’t pressure me to do something I don’t want to do.”
Their eyes go all soft and some of their excitement drains away. They reach forward, each taking one of my hands. “Promise.”
I nod sharply, as if convincing myself I’ve made the right decision. “Okay. But the second either of you breaks your promise, I’m out. I mean it.” I’ll drive myself there so I can escape if I need to.
“We’ve got you, Hope.” Lucy squeezes my hand. “I’m just happy you’ve finally agreed to come out with us.”
Savannah tugs me into her. “We’ll take care of you. Promise.”
I check myself in the mirror while a mixture of dread and a touch of excitement roll around in my stomach. I press my hand against it and try to push away the urge to text Lucy and cancel. I study my reflection. My eyes lost their sparkle the day the military police showed up at my door to tell me that my husband wasn’t ever coming home, and the light that used to gleam there has never returned. My eyes glisten as I trace over the rest of my face, noting the fine lines between my brows.
I see myself in the mirror every day at work, but I never take the time to look properly, and as I study myself now, sadness creeps over me. I look older than I should. Weighed down. Burdened. Sad. I wonder if strangers can see it, or maybe it’s not obvious to people who have never met me before.
Bringing my fingers up to my mouth, I lightly trace my quivering lips. Lips that haven’t been kissed in such a long time. The tears become too much to hold back, and they spill out over my bottom lashes. They track down my face slowly, then gather intensity while I fight to remember how Wyatt’s lips felt against mine as he kissed me; but the memory is just out of reach.
Oh, god .
My stomach clenches as I search and search for how his mouth felt on mine, but the feeling is nowhere to be found. A sob bursts out of me, and I bend at the waist in acute pain. C’mon! A memory can’t just disappear completely. I know we kissed, and I can see us together, but the feeling of his mouth on mine … it’s gone.
How can it just disappear? It must be there somewhere; I’m just trying too hard right now. Maybe if I relax and think about something else, it will come to me.
Dropping to the edge of my bed, I grip the mattress with white-knuckled force to stop myself from falling. My heart twists as horror fills me.
Is this what happens? Will my memories of Wyatt slowly disappear? Vanish into the ether? Fade, one by one until there’s nothing left to remember?
This night’s already a disaster. I should stay home. There’s no point ruining the girls’ night out with my melancholy mood. It’s not fair to them. A sob shakes my body, and I roughly wipe beneath my eyes.
Decision made, I lean over to grab my phone to text Lucy. It lights up before I touch it, and I snatch my hand back. Lucy’s name glares at me with accusation, like she knows I’m about to cancel. With a shaky hand, I wipe my tears again— I’m so sick of crying —and grab it to answer her call.
“We’re outside.” Music blares in the background, and excitement radiates through her voice. I was going to drive myself. I guess they figured if they picked me up, I wouldn’t be able to bail on them.
I twist my fingers in my curls. “Uhm … I-I?—”
The music disappears, and there’s a knock at my front door, making my shoulders curl forward. Damn.
“I’m at your front door. C’mon, Hope. Let’s go,” she urges.
Staying where I am, I press the phone against my ear. “Uh, I don’t think I can do this,” I murmur with a sob. My heart pounds like a bass drum, the vibrations reverberating through my body and thrashing in my ears, and I sniffle.
“Can you let us in, please?”
I turn toward the door but remain where I am. I can’t face the girls. I’m so embarrassed. It’s been almost six years, and the idea of going out is terrifying. “I-I can’t. I’m so sorry. I just can’t do it.”
“Oh, sweetie. Let us in.” Her voice softens, the excitement from a moment ago vanishing. “We don’t have to go anywhere, but we can’t leave you alone like this,” she says gently.
I swipe my cheeks and drop my head. “I don’t want to ruin your night,” I murmur. “You guys have fun.”
“Do you really think we can have fun knowing how much pain you’re in? Please let us in. We can watch a movie and hang out with you.” The rustle of fabric and lowered voices fill the phone. “Savannah’s gonna go get some wine and goodies so we can have a girls’ night in.”
They’re clearly not going to give up. I swipe my cheeks and use my fingers to wipe beneath my eyes and nose as I head for the front door, drowning in guilt for ruining their plans. The second I open it, Lucy wraps her arms around me. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t have to push us away when you’re having a tough time. We’re not just good-time friends, you know.”
I nod against her shoulder. It’s not that I mean to push them away. It’s that I feel so damn broken and uncomfortable sharing my misery with them, and after almost six years, I really feel I should be able to go out with friends.
Everybody keeps telling me that Wyatt died, not me, but a huge part of me died with him. I don’t know how to be here without him. I know it’s something Wyatt’s best friend Shane also struggles with, and I’ve said those very words to him. I don’t understand why I can’t take my own advice.
Lucy drags me inside, closing the door behind us and leading me through my living room. “Oh, I love those new bookshelves,” she gushes as she runs her fingers over the smooth wood.
“Shane stopped by last weekend and built them for me. I was running out of room.” I keep buying new books even though I have no desire to read—haven’t picked up a book since Wyatt died. It’s the worst book slump I’ve ever had.
Her cheeks turn pink at the mention of Shane, then she turns her attention back to my books, running her fingers across the spines. “So … how is Shane?”
I wrap my arms around my middle. “Still the same.” I think she has a crush on the stoic man. However, I get the feeling he may be off the market soon, if he can move past his guilt.
She nods slowly. “Oh, what’s this book like? I’ve seen it all over social media.”
I move closer to see which book she’s talking about. “I have no idea. Haven’t read it yet. You can borrow it, if you want.” It’s not like I’m going to read it anytime soon; I’ve completely lost my reading mojo, but I like to keep up with my favorite authors’ new releases.
“Thanks, I’ll grab it before I leave.” She heads into the kitchen and collects three wine glasses, three bowls, and three spoons.
While she’s doing that, I go to the bathroom to wash my face. Mascara is smudged beneath my eyes, making me look like I’ve had a hard night out. My eyes are red and puffy, and my nose is pink and shiny—a familiar look. I wash my face and dry it, then head out to the living room to tidy up a little. There’s another knock on the door, and I let Savannah in, taking the shopping bag from her hand as she leans in to embrace me.
“I grabbed all the good stuff.” She grins as she holds two bottles of wine above her head. “We’re in for a great night, ladies.”
She struts—yes, struts—to my kitchen and immediately pours three drinks. I place the shopping bag on the counter and pop the second bottle into the fridge for later. She passes Lucy and me a glass each and holds hers up for a toast. “To a fabulous girls’ night in.” We clink our glasses together and simultaneously take a drink of the sweet Moscato.
I watch my two friends, dressed similarly to me in hip-hugging jeans and cute tops, and my heart swells with appreciation for them. I don’t know how they’re still my friends after years of neglect on my part. All of my energy has gone into barely surviving, which has left nothing to invest in my friendships. How they’re still here supporting me is beyond my comprehension.
“Thanks, ladies. I don’t deserve you.” My nose tingles, and I press my lips together to stop them from quivering. I should just put on my big girl panties and go out with them. “You shouldn’t have to spend your Saturday night stuck here with me instead of meeting your hot firefighter and his friend.”
They move to either side of me, wrapping themselves around me. “We wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Lucy announces.
“Yeah, we don’t leave a girlfriend in need behind,” Savannah adds.
I force a smile. “Thanks, girls. I appreciate you so much.”
“We know. All right, let’s get started.” Savannah places her glass on the counter, then starts dragging items out of the shopping bag. Chocolate ice cream, a six-pack of Hershey’s chocolate bars, Hershey’s chocolate sauce, brownies, and a giant bag of Reese’s. “Welcome to death by chocolate, ladies.”
We all chuckle. “What a way to go,” Lucy moans as she opens the bag of peanut butter cups and inhales.
We load up our bowls with ice cream and chocolate sauce, then carry the remaining treats into the living room and turn on my favorite trashy TV— The Bachelor . I try to stay on top of as many trashy shows as I can, because I find it provides the best conversation starters with most clients. Most people want to either talk about their kids and grandkids, complain about their partner or work, or talk about what they’ve read or watched. Sometimes, I feel like I know my clients better than their therapists do.
As we get caught up watching the dates while Lucy and Savannah give a humorous running commentary, I do my best to stay in the moment, laughing at the right times so as not to get lost in my head. Hours pass as we watch episode after episode, only pausing for bathroom breaks and wine refills. They’ve done an incredible job of dragging me out of my misery for a few hours, but the night has ended, and that crushing feeling from earlier returns.
We walk to the front door, and they both come in for hugs. “We love you, Hope,” Lucy says as she pulls away, gripping my arms and trapping me in her gaze. “When you’re ready to go out, we’ll go out. Until then, we’re happy to spend nights in with you.”
My heart squeezes with gratitude. They could have easily gone out and kept their plans without me, but they chose to stay and support me. It felt kinda nice.
“You guys are the best. Thank you for tonight. For everything.” I push my mouth up into what I hope looks like a genuine smile, because it is.
“Anytime, lovely,” Savannah says as she gives me one last squeeze. “See ya at work on Monday.”
“Yeah, see you guys on Monday.” I walk them out to Savannah’s car, wrapping my arms around my middle as I watch their taillights shrink.
Turning to walk inside, I lock the front door and head into the living room to clean up. The house feels so empty. So silent. I wash the dishes and leave them to dry, throw out the trash, and as I turn out the kitchen light, my laptop catches my attention.
I rarely use it. I have it to pay bills and store our photos and videos … our memories . Flipping the lid, I pull out a chair to sit at the table. I navigate to the photos, click on the video I’m looking for, and press play. Dragging the progress bar until I get to the part I want, I sit forward and study every inch of Wyatt’s handsome face, then hit play. He dips me low and my startled chuckle fills the silence, then his lips are on mine and he devours me. Applause and cheers echo in my silent kitchen as I grip the back of his neck and kiss him with abandon.
When the kiss finally ends, we stand with our eyes locked together. My lips are swollen from his attention and the smile stretching them is as wide as the Mississippi.
Salty tears touch my lips and I spread them across the pillows with my finger. It’s almost like I can feel the ghost of Wyatt’s thumb as he rubs my smeared lipstick, a proud grin decorating his face.
Will this ache ever go away?
Swiping at my cheeks, I shut down my laptop, then switch off the lights, leaving the room lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the kitchen window.
I move through my nightly routine with an emptiness that won’t ebb, and when I finally climb into my lonely bed, the tears I’d pushed away earlier come tumbling out.