Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
Dani proposes to Cam one year later.
Cam becomes the bride I’d never guessed she’d be. She cares deeply about color schemes, flora, and a wooden arch she has commissioned.
I’d nearly laughed when she told me about the arch, then I realized she wasn’t kidding. Historically, my sister is the least romantic person on the planet. Famous movie love quotes make her skin crawl.
You complete me. What a dope, she’d said, adding an eye roll. Nobody else can complete you.
If you’re a bird, I’m a bird. Dumb, she’d declared. Why be a bird? Be a tubeworm. Those fuckers live forever.
Ah, my sister. She can ruin the best movies.
When she asked me to go with her to check in on the arch, I’d agreed without asking questions. Namely, where do we have to go to accomplish the check-in?
Sugar Creek, Arizona. A tiny town two hours up the Beeline Highway.
“Well,” Cam says, ducking into my car’s passenger seat and slamming the door behind her. A raindrop slithers off the shoulder of her lightweight jacket. “That was a boring drive.”
I’m inclined to agree. Caravaning is not on my list of what qualifies as a good time. Not by a long shot. Neither is what we’re about to do. “It was fine,” I respond, because today is special for her and I don’t want her to know that the further I drove from our home, the less I wanted to keep going. Inclining my head to Ruby in the backseat, I add, “Ruby and I listened to a couple podcasts.”
Cam glances at her car, parked in the space beside mine. “Of course you did.”
Ignoring the comment, I peer out at the nondescript building. The rain distorts the name, but I think it says Intricate Wood Works. “Where did you hear about this place?” Sugar Creek was always a name on a map, a little town up north , until now.
“Social media,” my sister says, while her tone says ‘duh.’ “You ready to go in? Because I’m ready. I want to see my arch.” She unsnaps the fabric strap wound around an umbrella. I slap at her hand when she starts to open it.
“Not in the car.” I frown at her. “Have you never operated an umbrella?”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “Only on rare occasions.”
To be fair, Phoenix doesn’t offer its inhabitants many opportunities to use umbrellas. My little sister isn’t a ‘just in case’ kind of a person, so it’s not like she’d be prepared even if the opportunity arose. She doesn’t keep a few dollars in the center console of her car, extra water on hand, or, in today’s case, an umbrella. I’d bet all the dollar bills and extra water in my car that the umbrella she’s awkwardly holding right now came from Dani.
“Give me that.” I take it from her and climb out of the car, opening the umbrella as I go. Rain pelts the asphalt parking lot, bouncing back at my feet. I walk around to Cam’s side of the car and hold the umbrella over her while she gets out. Then she holds it over me while I clip a leash to Ruby’s collar and lead her out of the car. Huddled together, the three of us make our way through tiny streams of water flowing over the parking lot.
We pause at the front door, protected by an awning, and I hold out the umbrella and shake the water droplets from the fabric. I close it up and hand it to Camryn.
“Thanks for the lesson,” she says, playfully sarcastic.
“You are welcome,” I respond loftily.
She laughs and looks around. “Aside from the current weather, I’m kind of jealous you’re spending the next two weeks here. Look at all these trees.” Her tone conveys the wistfulness of a person who grew up in a desert. “It’s just so…green.”
My eyebrows lift. “Do you really want to switch positions with me?”
“No,” Cam says without taking a second to think about it. “For many reasons.”
After learning how far away we’d have to go to see the arch, I booked two weeks at a cabin nearby, figuring it was the perfect change of scenery I’d need to finally finish my book.
I shoulder Cam. “You can stay up here with me.”
“Pfft,” Cam waves away my words. “And rob you of the chance to write the second half of your book in a remote destination, like a legitimate moody author? I would never.” She taps the top of my head. “I expect you to have greasy hair as your fingers fly over the keyboard. You’ll be wearing flannel. And a beanie. A fire roaring in the fireplace. Can you build a fire?” She makes a bare-teeth face. “Or would you rather not? You’ve had enough fire to last a lifetime, probably.”
My head tips sideways. “Are you done?”
She sighs heavily and reaches for the door handle. “I suppose.”
Inside, rubber mats have been laid out in the entrance to accommodate for the rain. Cam and I stamp our shoes on the mats. Ruby shakes, and I wince as a spray of droplets coats everything around her.
A young receptionist watches it all from behind a desk, his mouth quirked up in mild amusement.
“Hello,” I say to him, feeling mildly perturbed at being watched while I navigate this unfamiliar territory.
He grins, revealing a row of crooked bottom teeth. “You must be from the valley.”
Humor replaces my irritation. “What gave it away? Our ineptitude with an umbrella?”
His gaze hops between my and Camryn’s feet. “More like the fact it’s raining hard and you both wore sandals.”
Camryn leans into me, laughing. “Busted.”
“Is it ok that she’s here?” I point down at Ruby. “I didn’t want to leave her in my car.” As I say it, I realize I’ve forgotten my purse in the car. Between the downpour and the small town, it’s probably not at risk for being stolen.
The receptionist flicks his wrist. “It’s fine. We love dogs. She has to stay up front, though. No animals in the wood shop.”
I nod. “Got it.” I lead Ruby to a dry rubber mat a few feet away and instruct her to lie down and stay.
Cam approaches his desk, hand extended. “I’m Camryn Burke. This is my sister, Avery.”
“Mason,” he says, pointing at himself. “And I believe you”—he points at Camryn—“have an appointment to see how the arch is coming along.”
Mason takes us back, past his desk and down a short hallway, to a door with a window in the top half. I follow behind my sister, repeating the pep talk I gave myself the whole two-hour drive here, which was very short and went like this: Be happy for her, you’re ok .
“Through here,” Mason says, stepping aside to usher us through the open door. We step into a cavernous room, and every direction I look holds some kind of treasure. Elaborate chairs, doors, benches, wall décor. Power tools hang from pegboards, along with screwdrivers of all shapes and sizes. In one corner sits a sawhorse with a sander on top, and a chain saw on the ground beneath it. An office is on the opposite wall, and a man walks from it. He looks like a much older version of Mason.
“I’m Joel Humphrey,” he says, introducing himself. Camryn introduces us, and we each shake his offered hand.
Mason heads back the way we came, and Joel takes over. He welcomes us to his shop and tells us a little about his work and his process.
“Now, let’s see what you came here to see,” Joel says, rubbing his hands together. His excitement, though endearing, is nowhere near Camryn’s. Her arms are crossed and she’s rubbing her forearms, a sure sign she’s trying not to come out of her skin.
We approach a tall object covered in a white sheet. Joel grips the fabric and yanks, dramatically revealing the half-finished project beneath.
The scent of cedar swirls around us. The arch, fastened at the joints by rough-looking metal pins, towers above my head. Joel tells us it is eight feet by eight feet, and points out the carvings in the wood.
“When it’s done, both posts will match.” He nods at the bare wood on the other side.
Camryn claps and rises on her toes, bouncing. Her grin takes over her face. She’s looking at me, expectant. “Do you love it?”
I gather up everything I have in me, including all my memories of my own special day, and fit it into a tidy box. “It’s incredible,” I answer. I don’t know why it hurts. I mean, I know why, but I don’t know why . I’m past all that. I’ve moved on. I’ve lived on my own and adopted a dog and even had a whole new relationship.
Though, that ‘whole new relationship’ wasn’t exactly successful. Hudson ended things a month ago, blaming my preoccupation with a ghost as his reason. I can’t say I fault him. Or that he’s wrong.
Still, my reaction irritates me. I want to claw into my chest and capture these infuriating emotions and toss them in a blender. I want to be nothing but happy for Camryn and Dani. I don’t want my happiness for them to be punctuated by any holdovers from yesteryear.
It’s because of Hudson. I’m certain of it. I’m…raw. If we were still together, I probably wouldn’t feel this way. Being single again is like taking a step backward, and I’ve already taken enough of those.
“Would you like to meet the man who’s been working on it?” Joel asks. “Usually I do these custom pieces, but I hired help a few months ago and he’s every bit as good as me.”
“Yes, definitely,” Camryn responds. She smiles at me, and I smile back. I am dying on the inside, but I’ll never show it.
Joel walks away, leaving me and Camryn to inspect the post that has the carvings. My fingers bump over the wood, slipping through the valleys. It’s obvious the person who worked on this put care into it. Camryn jostles me with her elbow.
“What do you think about a little surprise for Dani? Like an old-school heart with C loves D inside it, carved into the other post?”
“Adorable. You should request it.”
Cam peeks around the post at me, stern eyebrows pulled to a point. “Don’t get so caught up in writing that you forget you’re supposed to be planning the bridal shower while you’re up here.”
“I have an entire notebook dedicated to the task.”
Cam makes a face. “A physical notebook? How old are you? Use the notes app on your phone.”
“Don’t judge my process.”
The clomp of footsteps sounds through the huge room. Camryn and I turn at the same time Joel says, “Here he is.”
My breath, my stomach, my heart, they all disappear, leaving me hollow but somehow still heavy. Blood pounds in my ears, throbbing and pulsing.
It’s impossible, impossible, except it’s not because there Gabriel is, staring at me, shocked gaze piercing my soul in the way only he can.
He says my name. Each letter slams into me, five separate wrecking balls decimating me where I stand.
“What the hell?” my sister’s disbelieving whisper catapults me into action. I’m moving, searching, trying to find a way from this place. I have to get away. There’s a door on the right, it’s not the way we came, but it will do.
I burst through. It’s the same parking lot, but on the other side of the building. The rain hasn’t let up, and I’m drenched in mere seconds. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
Not anymore.
Not when Gabriel is here, in the flesh.
I tip my face to the rain because I need to feel something to remind me this moment is real.
Gabriel comes through the door, charging into the parking lot, and I am his goal. He reaches me, stopping only a foot away. Wet hair hangs over his forehead, tiny rivers of rain running over the planes of his face. Heavy breath pushes his chest, his eyes are wide and brimming with emotion.
We stare at each other, neither of us able to get a handle on this moment. Then he reaches for me, and I let him touch me. His fingers wrap around my upper arms, and the memory of his touch resurfaces as though it never left. A ragged breath drags through my lungs.
Gabriel is touching me. Gabriel .
How many nights did I yearn for him? An ocean of tears did not return him to me, and now, here he is, his presence more impossible than I could’ve ever imagined. How long did I beg God for mercy on his behalf?
Months.
Weeks.
Days.
Hours.
Until I was nothing but alone, in our bed, accepting our ending.
Now here he is. He pulls me closer, and his lips are near my ear, his hands gripping my arms. The rise and fall of his chest pushes against mine. His smell. My God, how I’ve missed it. Even diluted by rain it is there, curling into me. Beneath his touch my skin is seared, but then the desperation for his touch subsides as the memories trickle in.
He once saved me from a fire. But when it was all said and done, he’s the one who burned me down.
Camryn pulls my car alongside us. She motions for me to get in.
I take a step back. His hands fall away, but they don’t go far. His grip is there between us, suspended in mid-air, and all I have to do to be held by him again is simply step forward.
I don’t.
Because I can’t.
I can’t go back there, to that place where we existed. Not when I’ve come so far.
Despite it all, my heart screams for him, his touch, those eyes that did me in. And the way he looks now, his gaze simultaneously shocked and pleading…
No.
I take another step away, then two, until I’m in the car. Ruby pushes her face between the front seats, her nose pressed to my arm. My sister has the heat on blast, as if there is even a chance of drying me. I am soaked to the bone, but that hardly registers.
I feel everything at once, and nothing at all. An incongruous duality.
Cam says, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She’s aiming for ironic, but there’s too much shock in her tone for her to hit the mark. The comment is literal.
Gabriel’s figure shrinks in the side mirror. He is rooted in place as we leave the parking lot behind.
“I have.”