CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE SABRINA
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SAbrINA
We don’t need to figure out everything right now. Maybe the airport or the flight back can be for that. Or after I get a chance to really talk to Serena, even though I know what she’s going to say.
Are you kidding? You’re not going to go with the hot millionaire country music producer?
That makes me smile. Then, I think about how Coen said Jamie was going back to the ranch. Either that’s going to activate Serena like a sleeper cell, or she’s going to hate him. It could go either way; she’s hard to predict, even after knowing her all her life.
We go back downstairs, hand in hand. I’m feeling a little embarrassed about my meltdown and flight out of Nashville.
Maybe I should have taken a beat to think it through.
Mom is sipping at what’s probably her second glass of wine, and she sets it aside when we walk in.
She and Hugh give us both the up-down look.
“Feeling any better?” Hugh asks.
I nod, sniffing. I’m sure my face is all red and splotchy right now. Mom sets her glass down and goes to refill it. Then, she hands me one and waves her hand, heading toward the hall.
“Come here, Brina,” she says. “I want to talk to you on the porch.”
I hesitate, glancing at Hugh, who shrugs. Either Mom wants to actually talk to me, or Hugh is about to give Coen a Mom-instigated lecture about what they’ll do if he breaks my heart.
“It’s fine,” Coen says.
I grab my wine and pad barefoot after Mom.
We step out onto the side porch, which is a flat paved patio strung with lights leading down to the in-ground pool.
Everything is so peaceful out here. Overhead, the stars show through the lights just enough to cast a sparkling net over the sky.
Down below, the breeze catches Mom’s fake tropical plants and makes them rustle.
It’s all familiar from my childhood visits; I take comfort in it.
“Honey,” Mom says, running a hand over her hair. “Is your dad causing problems?”
I balk, unwilling to be at the center of anything.
“Come on, tell me,” she insists.
“Okay,” I say, having a sip of wine. “Yeah, he is. He’s scaring me about Coen.”
“What’s he saying?”
I shrug, unwilling to meet her eyes. “He says he knows his type, that he’ll hurt me.
I know I left in the morning and didn’t tell him, but I’m also twenty-four years old, and having to hide my boyfriends he doesn’t a hundred percent approve of is getting kind of…
old. Plus, Coen didn’t fucking do anything to him. ”
She releases a long sigh. “I’m gonna tell you a secret,” she says. “It might fuck you up a little.”
“More?”
“Yeah, maybe.” She waves a hand. “But it’s one of those things that’s good in the long run.”
“Okay,” I whisper, dragging my eyes back to her as she comes close.
“Honey, on the day I got married, there was this tiny, little…wriggle of doubt in my chest,” she says softly. “I think…I kind of knew someday, he was going to step out on me.”
My stomach sinks.
“You didn’t love him?” I whisper.
“No, I loved him so much. But when I looked at him…well, he was a heartbreaker. He wasn’t ready to settle down, but I was, so he compromised for me.”
I’m quiet, unsure how to process this. In my memory, they were so happy.
“We both thought it would work out. We really did,” she says, touching my face. “And I wanted to forgive him, because when he said he was sorry…he meant it. But that doesn’t take back the pain. He fucked up, and he’s paid for it his entire life.”
I swallow back the pain.
“I know,” I whisper. “I think he tried so hard to be a good dad because of that.”
She nods. “And he is a good dad. But he wasn’t a good husband.”
Sniffing, I pull back to wipe my nose. “Do you hate him?”
“At first. Not anymore.”
“Why?” My voice shakes.
She shrugs, waving the hand holding her wine. “Because I met Hugh, and he is perfect, and I’m happy, have been for years. Who wants to carry hate everywhere they go?”
My stomach goes ice cold. It might be time for me to say the words I’ve never said before.
“You’re happy even though I chose to stay in Wyoming?” I manage.
She goes still and then turns back to me. Her eyes are soft.
“Honey,” she says. “I love you whatever choices you make. It hurt when you girls chose to stay, but I don’t regret it, because you had good childhoods. And I saw you for a month or two out of every year.”
It takes me a second to stop my voice from shaking.
“I think maybe if I could go back, I’d pick differently,” I say. “But I didn’t even understand what cheating was back then. I just didn’t want to leave the ranch. And I still don’t… Oh, God, this is so confusing.”
“Nobody blames you,” she says. “And if they do, I’ll deal with them.”
Smiling, I wipe my face hard.
“Is this why you’re so scared of getting involved with Coen?” Mom asks.
I nod. “I guess Dad’s baggage kind of turned into mine.”
She wraps an arm around me and hugs me hard. “God, sometimes, I wish I could beat that man up. I forgive him, I do, but he’s such an asshole.”
I laugh. “Yeah, sometimes, he is.”
She pulls back, turning me slightly so I can look in through the window. Coen and Hugh stand at the counter, talking about something that clearly engages them both. My heart softens, and warmth seeps in. It melts some of my fear to see them getting along.
“I never had any doubt with Hugh,” she says, arm around my shoulder. “He just…felt like coming home.”
My breath hitches.
“Does Coen feel like that for you?” she asks.
I have to swallow back another lump. “Yeah,” I manage, the tears falling again. “He does.”
“Then take a chance, sweetheart. You’ll figure it out.” She pats my arm. “And don’t put your father’s sins on Coen’s shoulders. I had to go to therapy for a long time to learn not to do that to Hugh. Every person gets a blank slate.”
My heart thumps in the stillness following that statement.
Every person gets a blank slate.
Could Coen be my new beginning? Because no matter if we have to fly around the country constantly just to see each other, I want to give this a real try.
Sitting in his truck and seeing him behind the wheel was the safest I’ve ever felt.
I don’t want that feeling to ever end. I want to wake up to it, to feel his arms around me, to go to sleep with my head on his chest.
I wipe my face and take a shuddering breath. “And if it doesn’t work out?” I manage.
She smiles, but I see a flicker of something else in her eyes, something that’s been in her head, maybe in her heart, for years.
“It didn’t work out for me,” she says finally.
“I survived it. I made my peace with it. Now, I took all the good I could out of that situation, and I kept going. My life is so good, but of course, I have regret. I still have things I carry around with me every day from that. I do…I do wish you had grown up with me. I do, but I don’t regret not doing it, because your choice was important. ”
Oh God, here come the tears again. She takes both my hands.
“I was hoping now that you’re grown, you’d come more often. Maybe stay a summer,” she says.
“Yeah, I could do that, I think.”
My voice shakes. She squeezes my hands hard and swallows hard. I know she’s trying not to break down, so I’ll swallow back my tears too.
“But for right now, honey, we should go inside and have some dinner. Then, you have Coen book you a couple plane tickets back to Wyoming.”
I open my mouth, because I need one more bit of reassurance.
Then, I close it, because she’s already said everything she needs to say.
It wouldn’t matter what Coen did for a living.
My hesitation isn’t over him; he’s done nothing but throw up green flags from the very beginning.
This is about me, still a scared girl deep inside, grasping at something certain.
There’s no certainty in love. It’s a leap of faith every single day.
The only thing I have is him right now, telling me he wants to give this a chance.
That’s enough.
I squeeze her hands back. “Thanks, Mom.”
My voice cracks. She hugs me close, putting an arm around my waist and pointing me in the direction of the door. We go back inside, and I slide out of Mom’s arms and into Coen’s, letting him kiss the top of my head. Faintly, I’m aware of Mom and Hugh pouring more wine and bickering good naturedly.
I shut my eyes tight.
Deep inside, there’s no little wriggle of uncertainty in my chest. Not when it’s just him and his arm around me. No, all my hurt has nothing to do with him.
Except he’s done more to fix it than anyone else.