Chapter 17 Gwen
GWEN
We kissed a little more, and we talked a lot more.
Some of the girls at the ranch described Sebastian as a man of few words.
They probably described me the same way.
But Sebastian and I just talked in a language they couldn’t speak.
We didn’t like simple conversations. If it wasn’t deep, if it wasn’t about something that was bigger than us, we got bored.
I supposed that was contradictory, given how elusive we both were about the details of our pasts.
But it wasn’t that we were shallow about our pains, our traumas.
We’d just buried them deep beneath the surfaces of ourselves.
The things we discussed tonight were only topsoil, yet deeper and more vulnerable than I had gotten with anyone in ages.
I imagined Sebastian could say the same.
It was almost 11 when Lizzie texted Sebastian to ask when he was coming to pick her up. I agreed it was time to get home.
The drive home couldn’t have been more different from the drive earlier, filled with laughter and the comfortability we had found in the last year of friendship.
Neither of us knew how to make that switch from friendship to romance.
But we ended the night laughing, teasing one another, and with one more kiss.
Simone, who must’ve been peeking through the blinds, gushed about it. And even though I walked out of that truck with a smile on my face, chest fuzzy and warm with hope and excitement, the moment she wanted to gossip about it, the rest of this week came back.
I’d almost forgotten about David.
It only took a glance at Simone’s face, her swollen eye, her busted lip, for the memories to slam through my mind like a semitruck hitting a wall. The warm, cozy feeling vanished.
I put on my poker face and told Simone about the date. That we sat in his truck, ate subpar Mexican food and talked about our pasts, how we both wound up here. All I left out was the promise I made to keep Sebastian’s secret.
Only for her face to screw up in confusion. “That’s what you call a date?”
It was everything I wanted in a date.
Roses, candlelit dinners, ties and tuxedos—those were a performance. One I’d fallen for before. Troy got me flowers every time he hit me. He took me out to a nice dinner every time we made up.
If I was going to do this again, if I was going to love someone again, I wanted it to be real.
By the end of the conversation, Simone’s conclusion was, “I’m happy if you’re happy.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I was this happy.
This was the first time in years I had been excited for the future.
Excited, then terrified when I remembered what I’d done.
What if Sebastian found out? Would he understand? Could he?
What if someone else found the body? What if the cops tied it back to me? What if I had to decide to tell the truth and lose the little bit of a life I’d built since I came to the ranch, or run and start all over?
Sebastian wouldn’t join me. He couldn’t. He had Lizzie, and a business, and a life.
Where would I run to anyway?
How could I get comfortable in all this hope, all this joy, if I could lose it all?
I retired to my room, and Simone got comfy on the couch since we didn’t expect Rhiannon to show tomorrow morning. Sleep didn’t come. Not without the help of a joint.
Just before I dozed off, my phone dinged with a text from Sebastian.
Sebastian; I had a lot of fun tonight. We should do it again.
Gwen; So did I. Just say when.
The next morning, I woke to a text.
Sebastian; What are you doing Sunday? And good morning, by the way. Hope you have a good day.
Which had my belly fluttering.
The butterflies weren’t as scary as they’d been. Now, part of me wanted to run headfirst to him, and the other part wanted to run as far and fast away from him as I could get.
Not for my benefit. For his.
In this relationship, I was the one keeping secrets. I was the liar.
But maybe I could do what Simone and I had said we would. Maybe I could pretend it’d never happened.
Gwen; Probably just hanging around the ranch. And good morning to you too. I also hope you have a good day.
When I read it back, it sounded like an email to a work colleague. Emojis may have helped, but I didn’t have a therapist to guide me through every text interaction I had, so it would have to do.
I went about my usual morning routine. Showered, took Honey out to do her business, fed her, made a cup of coffee to go, tiptoed around Simone, and made sure to lock the door behind me. Today’s drive to work was much more peaceful than the last.
Did my stomach still turn when I drove over the bridge I’d dropped David off? Yes. Was I going to push that memory to the very back of my mind? Also yes.
I made it to work with fifteen minutes to spare. Good thing, because my homemade coffee tasted like garbage. I had just enough time to go behind the counter, make myself a nice latte—with pumpkin spice, since that was back on the menu heading into the holidays—and maybe a breakfast sandwich.
As I hung my coat on the hook, I eyed the pastry case to see if we had any croissants left over. Plenty of English muffins on the bottom shelf, half a dozen bagels, but no croissants. That was fine. A bagel would do.
I walked around the counter and grabbed a parchment paper to put it on. As I reached into the pastry case, Molly said, “Behind you,” and brushed past me. “That’s for you, by the way.”
Bagel in hand, I straightened back up. She stood in front of the espresso machine at the far end of the counter. As she fiddled with it, I looked around. Nothing caught my eye. “What’s for me?”
“That.” She pointed to a red gift bag by the checkout.
It was small, roughly four-by-six. Red tissue paper peeked out of the top. Sparkles covered every inch of it. I knew as soon as I picked it up, I would find pieces of glitter all over my clothing, car, and cabin for the next six months.
“Andrew said someone left it at the door yesterday. The tag has your name on it.”
I flipped over the tag on the ribbon handle. There it was. Gwen, in pretty calligraphy. “It doesn’t say who it’s from.”
“Probably one of the customers you made a cake for.” She shrugged and headed through the swinging, stainless steel door. “They start giving out Christmas presents at this time of year.”
Made sense. Some of the patients at my old job did that too.
I peeled back the tissue paper. Inside was a small box, covered in wrapping paper the same color as the gift bag.
I grabbed the whole bag and walked around the counter to sit at the booth in the corner. Wrapped gift in my lap, I pulled the paper back.
A pay-as-you-go phone.
My stomach sank.
I flipped it over and found a typed note on a plain white sheet of printer paper.
Your friend.