Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“Five days until my wedding!” my sister squealed through my earbuds. “I’m so excited that I get to see you tomorrow!”
Allie had called me a few days ago, and we’d been playing phone tag. Until now. Okay, honestly, I’d been avoiding her until I could put it off no longer. I’d waited until the very last minute.
Allie had to suspect that I was upset, right?
I knew she was preoccupied with the last-minute preparations and excitement. Just like I knew I needed to tell her the truth about my relationship with Frasier, but I’d been dreading it.
Also, I was still hurt by what she’d said about the light going out of me. And while I wanted to gloss over it and just enjoy the wedding, I was a wreck. The closer we got to the actual trip, the more nervous I grew.
It was a good thing Allie was keeping me busy with all her color-coded spreadsheets. My sister’s “Bride Tribe” group chat had been blowing up this past week, and I had a feeling things would only continue to intensify as we approached the big day.
I loved Allie, and I would always be there for her. But I had to wonder…had I been this over the top before my wedding?
Honestly, I couldn’t remember. And part of me hated that I couldn’t remember. So much had happened since then. If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself to slow down, really take it all in.
Every moment with Derek. Every look and touch. I swallowed hard. All of it. Gone. Over far too soon. In the blink of an eye.
One night, I’d gone to bed happily married. The next morning, I’d woken up to my worst nightmare—my husband was dead.
It felt like I’d lived a lifetime since my wedding day, even though it had only been three years. At this point, I’d been a widow almost as long as I’d been a wife.
You can’t go back. You can only move forward.
It was something my therapist and I had discussed a lot. And yet, I often found myself wondering what I could’ve done differently. Wondering if I should’ve known. If I could’ve somehow changed the outcome.
It was a futile exercise; I knew that. But sometimes, I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. I often lay awake at night, imagining if I could’ve somehow saved Derek.
Everyone—even my fellow medical professionals—told me there was no way I could’ve known, nothing I could’ve done. But I was his wife, damn it. And I worked in the medical field. Shouldn’t I have realized something wasn’t right? Shouldn’t I have sensed it?
There was a knock at the back door, and my mood instantly lifted when I saw Frasier standing there, hand raised in greeting. Bacon and Biscuit trotted over, tails wagging, eager to greet him.
I didn’t know when it had happened, but slowly, Frasier and I had fallen into a bit of a routine the past year.
Frasier would come over Thursday nights after practice.
He’d work on a project. We’d eat dinner and watch a movie, and then he’d leave the dogs with me since I had Fridays off.
They’d stay with me through the weekend or any time he had an out-of-town game.
It was nice. Cozy.
Sometimes we talked—about Derek or the team, about my work, or whatever else was on our minds. Sometimes we didn’t. And that was okay too.
I beckoned Frasier inside, holding up my phone to signal that I was in the middle of a conversation.
Frasier stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.
His baseball cap shadowed his eyes, making him look more dangerous than he was.
His hair curled at the nape of his neck.
It wasn’t as long as it had been, but he was still rocking the beard.
“And you packed everything for the bachelorette party, rehearsal dinner, and wedding?” Allie asked, reminding me that I was still on the phone with her.
“Yes. I promise. You have nothing to worry about,” I said in a tone I hoped was reassuring.
I knew Allie was stressed, and I knew we’d need to discuss my hurt feelings at some point.
But for now, I wanted to keep the focus on her wedding.
She deserved to enjoy this moment that she’d been looking forward to and planning for so long.
It was a big reason why I was even hesitating to tell her the truth about Frasier and me.
There could be a lot of drama around weddings, and I didn’t want to add to it.
“Okay. I just…” She sighed. “I really want everything to be perfect.”
Ah. To go back to a simpler time when everything was easy.
I’d never admit it, but I envied my sister sometimes. Or maybe I just missed the girl I used to be—na?ve, so unaware of how painful life could be. But happy.
I sighed. I wanted to be happy again. Genuinely happy.
I’d catch glimpses of it every so often—former me. The one who was carefree and joyful. But it felt like trying on an old piece of clothing that was two sizes too small.
Frasier tapped my foot with his. And when I glanced up at him, he raised one brow as if to ask, “You good?”
I nodded, smiling at his uncanny ability to communicate without words.
Some people found him to be grumpy, territorial, and off-putting—hence the nickname, Bear, which he’d gotten in college.
But to me, he’d always been more of a giant teddy bear.
Protective, fiercely loyal. And he gave some of the best hugs.
I’d definitely needed a lot of them over the past year and a half.
To everyone else, he was Frasier, Holmes, Fizzy.
His nickname “Fizzy” was a nod to both his first name and the fact that he didn’t get shaken on the ice.
He was known for keeping his cool. He didn’t get rattled when the opposing team chirped or made a shot.
He ignored it or brushed it off and focused on the next play. But to me, he’d always be Bear.
I opened my arms, and he pulled me into his for a hug. His hair was still wet, and god, he smelled good. Distractingly so. Or maybe I was distracted by the way his T-shirt clung to his chest, stretching across his powerful muscles.
What is wrong with me? I wondered as I pulled back. I was ogling my best friend.
Georgia’s comments about how attractive Frasier was must have gotten into my head. At least, that’s what I kept trying to tell myself. But lately, it felt as if something had switched back on inside me. A desire to live and have fun. It was as if my libido had come back online.
My therapist said that was a good thing.
She was encouraged by how I was processing my grief, especially the shifts she’d noticed lately.
I didn’t disagree. Something felt…different lately.
Lighter, somehow. Maybe it was that I’d survived the first year without Derek—the first Christmas and New Year’s.
Our first anniversary without him. My birthday and his.
Maybe it was the fact that I’d finally been allowed to grieve in peace. To get back to living my life and going through my routine without cameras constantly following me. I’d found my new normal, and Frasier was a big part of that.
Lately, my therapist had encouraged me to try to find more opportunities for fun, to seek out joy even in the small moments. She called them “glimmers.” I loved that idea, and I’d been trying. But sometimes, it was easier said than done.
I’d redecorated my bedroom, though I later realized that I’d been using the project as a way to temporarily fill the void and regain a sense of control.
I’d revisited old hobbies, like dancing.
I’d taken up new hobbies, only to later quit them.
I’d even bought some toys in an attempt to shake things up and do some self-exploration.
But both the desire for joy and my body’s craving for physical affection and sex felt almost foreign at this point.
As foreign as smiling or laughing had felt for months after Derek’s passing.
But I’d learned how to do those things again.
Maybe I could learn to enjoy myself again, and not just for the sake of appeasing everyone else’s worries.
My sister was still talking, and I continued to “mm-hmm” at the appropriate intervals.
I knew the wedding preparations were important to her, and I wanted to be supportive. But after everything I’d been through, it all seemed so…trivial. A wedding was a big celebration, yes. But it was also one day. A marriage lasted a lifetime—or at least, it was supposed to.
Frasier pointed at my bedroom, and I nodded, knowing he wanted to work on his latest project—installing a custom shelving unit in my closet. The dogs trailed after him, and I was eager to wrap up my call so I could join them.
“So…” Allie started, and I hated when she prefaced stuff. It always made me nervous. “This thing with Frasier…”
Crap! I glanced down the hall, praying Frasier was out of earshot. And then I stepped out onto the back patio, closing the door behind me.
I kept my voice low, hoping it didn’t betray my panic. “Please tell me you haven’t told anyone.”
No one could find out.
“Of course not. But… I don’t get it, Bryn. Why are you being so secretive about it? This is exciting.”
“I told you why,” I said, annoyed that she was pushing me on it. But also, annoyed with myself for lying. Frasier valued his privacy, and here I was, threatening everything. I felt awful that I’d betrayed his trust and put him in this situation.
“If I were you, I’d be joyous. And you can bet that I’d tell everyone.”
I should’ve been relieved by her support—not that Frasier and I were actually dating. But instead, I was angry. All I could think was, but you’re not me. And you have no idea how I really feel!
So instead of telling her the truth, I said, “I should go,” eager to get off the phone.
“Bryn…” She sighed. “Don’t be like that.”
Like what? I wanted to ask. But I didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Sometimes lately, it felt as if she wanted to put a timeline on my grief. Like I’d been sad for too long. I’d become too much of a drag.
“I’ll see you soon, Al.”
“See you soon,” she said in a resigned tone. “Love you.” Her voice sounded small, far away.
“Love you too,” I said, ending the call.
I stared out at my small yard, kicking myself for how that had gone down. Why couldn’t she understand? And why hadn’t I just told her the truth?
I took a moment to collect myself. When Derek and I had first moved in, we’d been excited to have some green space, a garden.
But it had languished since his death, and I was surprised anything was still alive.
Despite my neglect, a few flowers had still decided to bloom, showing that growth was possible even when everything seemed bleak.
Something fluttered down from the sky, and at first, I thought it was a leaf. But when I looked closer, I realized it was a butterfly. I smiled, lifting a hand to my mouth at the sight of it.
Hi, Derek.
I watched the butterfly for a moment longer, feeling calmer.
Not long after Derek’s funeral, on a particularly low day, a bright-blue and black butterfly had landed on me.
Ever since then, I’d associated butterflies with Derek.
And once I’d made the connection, I felt like I saw them everywhere.
Sometimes, it was a real butterfly like the one in the garden.
Other times, it was a butterfly painted on a rock. A sign.
Anytime I saw one, it brought me comfort and made me smile.
It was why I’d gotten my tattoo on his birthday.
I turned my wrist to admire the design. At first glance, it looked like a butterfly.
But when you looked closer, the butterfly was actually comprised of sixes in many sizes.
The tattoo artist had played with the spacing and sizes until it had looked just how I’d wanted.
And I loved that the sixes represented Derek’s lucky number, the one he’d worn on his jersey.
I sighed. I might not like how I’d left things with my sister, but I also knew I wasn’t ready to clear the air either. So, I shoved my phone into my back pocket and headed back inside.