Chapter 3 Two days before the wedding
Two days before the wedding
Me: Are you awake? We need to talk.
Sara opens the door to the bedroom she and Marcus are sharing with a tense smile. “Sending a girl a ‘we need to talk’ text two days before her wedding? Must be something serious.” She shivers but beckons for me to come in. “Marcus went out for a run, but there’s coffee.”
I pour myself a mug, adding cream and sugar before following her out to the patio off the large room.
The primary bedroom of our three-bedroom suite is breathtaking, all white marble and clean linens and pale wood, with bold slashes of blue tastefully accenting the neutral tones.
Two cushioned chairs sit on the patio, the ocean so close it seems like I could reach out and touch it, the sand fine and almost black.
It’s early enough that the air is still crisp, none of the overwhelming heat that will come with the afternoon hours.
Sara settles onto one of the lounges, extending her long legs in front of her. She’s still in her silky white pajamas, the word bride bedazzled on the back of her short robe. As she cradles her own mug of coffee, her eyes stay glued on the perfect view laid out before us. “He told you, then?”
I let out a silent sigh of relief that I don’t have to be the one to bring it up. “Inadvertently. But yes, he told me.” I sink onto the chair next to hers, tucking my legs under me.
Her sigh is not so silent. “I knew I should have found time to talk to you right away.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You had ten years to talk to me, Sara.”
“I know.” She lets her head fall back against the cushioned headrest. “I don’t know what else to say besides I fucked up, Lucy. I really fucked up, and I hurt two of the people I love the most in this world. I was dumb and immature and shortsighted, and it’s the biggest regret of my life.”
It’s not an apology, so I keep quiet.
“If it makes you feel better, not having you in my life for ten years has been a pretty awful punishment to endure.”
I scoff. “It doesn’t make me feel better, actually. Because I had to endure that same punishment, except I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You fell in love with my brother.” It’s not an accusation, merely a statement of fact.
My hand tightens around the ceramic mug.
“I had a teenage crush, Sara. One that I never even told you about because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.
” I don’t even remember how old I was the first time I realized my feelings for Beckett were more than of the older-brother variety, but I was old enough to know the potential damage it could do to my friendship with Sara.
I never said anything because she was more important than him.
I could live without Beckett, but life without Sara was impossible to even imagine. Turns out, the reality was even worse.
She turns her head to meet my gaze. “I never cared that you had a crush on Beckett. At least, not until it became clear that he also had a crush on you.”
It’s a punch to the gut, and it knocks the wind out of me. “Why?” I manage to choke out.
She shrugs, but there’s nothing careless about it.
“Because I was a selfish asshole? Honestly, there were times when we were young that I thought it would be fun if the two of you got together. We could be sisters for real.” She gives me a soft smile.
“But then when it became an actual possibility, I freaked out. What would happen if you dated and it went badly? What would happen if I got stuck in the middle? What would happen if you both discovered you loved each other more than you loved me?”
“Christ, Sara.” I pull my gaze from hers, unable to look her in the eye any longer.
She continues on, sounding like this is a speech she’s made a hundred times already in her head.
“After our graduation party, Beckett came to me and told me he wanted to ask you out. You were finally eighteen, and he admitted he’d been into you for years but didn’t want to take things to the next level when you were still in high school.
And I panicked. I told him I would ask you if you were interested, and instead of telling him the truth, the next day I told him you didn’t feel the same way. ”
My mind whirls with all this new information relayed so calmly, as if her decisions didn’t have a ripple effect on the people around her.
“And then you told me you couldn’t have me around anymore because my feelings for your brother made your whole family uncomfortable.
” Hearing that from my best friend was like a literal knife in the chest. I would have preferred the stabbing, to be honest. But the wound had healed, and now it feels as if she’s ripped it wide open again.
“Yes.” Sara sniffles, but I have no interest in her tears.
“And never once, in the ten years that followed, did you ever consider just telling me the truth?”
“I thought about it all the time, actually. I realized I’d made a huge mistake almost immediately after, but there was no way I could tell you and Beckett the truth.
I’d risked everything because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you both.
I knew if I told you the truth, that fear would become real. ”
Silence lingers for a long moment. I try to piece my emotions together, but it’s close to impossible to make it all make sense.
“Why did you ask me to come here?” I finally ask. “Did you have any intention of coming clean?”
“That was the main reason I wanted you here, Luce. I wanted the chance to tell you everything. But I also meant what I said in my email. I don’t know if I could stand up at my wedding without you by my side.
I’ve gone through enough without you, and I know it was my own fault, but I don’t think I could do it again.
” Her words are laced with tears now, and something in me softens.
“I’m sorry about your mom. I should have been there.” I chance looking at her, catching her wiping her eyes.
“I didn’t deserve to have you there. I don’t deserve to have you here. I fucked up, Lucy, and I’m so, so sorry.”
I’m not ready to accept the apology, not yet, but I already know I will, eventually.
Probably sooner than I would like to admit.
As much as Sara claims to have missed me, I’ve missed her just the same.
If there is a chance for us to have our friendship back, in even the smallest measure, then I know I want to take it.
“Are you going to tell Beckett the truth?”
Sara lets out a long breath. “I know I need to. I don’t think he’s going to be as understanding as you, unfortunately.”
“Don’t let me give you the impression that I’m not mad. I’m fucking pissed.”
“I’m sorry I cost you your chance with Beckett.”
“It’s not about him.” It’s a little about him, but any relationship I could have had with Beckett is too insubstantial, a flight of fancy that never happened, for me to weigh the loss of it. “You cost me my best friend, Sar.”
“I know.” The tears well in her eyes again. “I will apologize as many times as you need me to.”
“I don’t need more apologies. I need you to tell your brother the truth.”
“Tell your brother the truth about what?” Beckett’s voice commands, soft and yet fierce.
Both our heads whip around, finding him perched in the doorway leading from the room to the patio.
His arms are crossed over his chest, and I’m yanked back to the time Sara and I stole the bottle of vodka he’d had stashed in his closet.
I’d never seen him so angry before. Beckett isn’t a yeller, he’s got a quiet kind of anger, and that feels so much worse.
“I’m going to go,” I say when it becomes clear Sara has lost the power of speech. I reach for her hand and give it a light squeeze. “We’ll talk more later, yeah?”
She nods and offers me a small smile, but her eyes remain focused on her brother.
I pass Beckett as I head back into the bedroom, getting a whiff of coffee and sunscreen. He drops his arms, and his hand twitches, our fingers brushing as I walk by, the tiniest bit of contact still enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
I close the bedroom door behind me and return to my own room, tempted to sit and wait for Beckett but deciding that might actually drive me to the brink.
Instead I change into my swimsuit and spend the day at the pool, catching up on my Tbr.
I keep waiting for one of them to come find me, but neither does.