Chapter 6 First
First
Isilenced my cell phone for the third time in as many minutes.
First Mom. Then Dad. Now Hawk. At only eight o’clock in the morning they should have assumed I was sleeping in like normal people did on the weekend. Surely they could have left me to wallow for a few more hours.
Five minutes later, Noelle’s name popped up on my screen. This call I could take.
“Hey.”
“You’re alive.”
I settled back into the nest I made on the couch. “I am.”
“I’ll report back.”
Taking another sip of my coffee, I asked, “How did they find out?”
“Paul came by the resort to check on you.”
For a second, I simply froze. Mortified. I closed my eyes. “What a douche.”
“Too bad he hadn’t been that solicitous when you were together.”
“Right? He came by this morning? So early?”
“Yesterday afternoon. Dan and Lou gave you exactly fifteen hours to yourself before they decided you’d had enough space. They were aiming for twelve but thought a five a.m. phone call would be one tiny step too far. You should be grateful for their enormous restraint.”
I snorted. “Did she enact an emergency phone tree?”
“When she couldn’t get through to you, she enlisted Hawk. He enlisted me.”
“I was sleeping for at least eight of those hours.”
That was a lie. I tossed and turned all night, flipping through the pages of our story, wondering at what point I missed the plot twist.
“Still. I think they did pretty good,” Noelle exclaimed. “Dan and Lou are not known for giving their kids space.”
I giggled. “I can’t believe Hawkley called. What was he going to say to me?”
“I think he’s looking for permission to beat Paul half to death. He’s furious.”
“Ah, it’s okay. We both know I’m better off without him. And he’s obviously better off without me.”
“He never deserved you. You’re twice the man he is.”
Outwardly, I laughed. Inside? I cringed. Because wasn’t that the problem in the end? That I was too independent? That I didn’t need him enough?
“Are you still coming tonight?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. It was just my rotten luck that Noelle and Hawkley had invited all of us to their place for a potluck.
“Yup,” I chirped. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
After convincing Noelle no further intervention was required, I opened my e-reader. But reading the same line four times convinced me to give up and open my Instagram feed instead. There had to be a clue somewhere among the pictures of us to explain what happened.
I thought we were happy. Well, not that last year. That I thought was growing pains. Until freaking Daire and Hawkley called me on it.
How mortifying to have your teenage crush, a man who set panties on fire simply by breathing, point out that your boyfriend treated you like trash?
I didn’t even think Hawk and Daire liked one another all that much back then, but they joined forces over Paul.
I mean, Daire seemed to like Hawkley just fine. Hawkley? He had his guard up. But then, Hawkley only ever dropped his guard for a select few.
And rarely fully.
It took Hawkley some time to accept him, but they were good now.
The last picture Paul and I took was the first one to come up on my feed. The annual Christmas party at Sage Ridge.
Looking at it now, I could see the distance between us. We smiled at the camera instead of each other. My body tilted away from him. He looked stiff and uncomfortable.
I wore my red dress. My eyes ran over my curves in the picture. When I put it on for the party, it had felt a little snug, but I thought I looked decent.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway that night, I ran my hands over my curves. It was a little tighter. But it didn’t look bad. I turned, twisting around to see it from all sides.
My butt looked good. My tummy was a little rounded, but wasn’t terrible, I assured myself. In any case, it was too late to change. Not that I had anything better.
And who cared? It’s not like these people didn’t see me every day whether I looked my best or like something the cat dragged in. They were practically family.
I positively strutted out to the family room ready to rock Paul’s world. He sat in his favorite chair scrolling through his phone.
“Are you ready?” I posed, a thrill of anticipation uncurling in my stomach. He loved this dress.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He stood up and headed for the door, snatching his keys and wallet off the table in the hallway without a single glance in my direction.
“Paul, how do I look?”
He turned to face me, his eyes lighting with appreciation.
My heart leapt inside my chest. We so badly needed a good night.
“You look good, babes.” His eyes dropped to my feet before moving back up.
I tingled with happiness. It had been so long since we’d made love. Longer still since we’d had fun together.
“It seems a little snug?”
The icy bullet of reality slammed into my chest and shattered. I died quietly, ducking my head so that my hair provided a curtain to hide my face while I pretended to search through my purse.
“There. I think I have everything.”
He remained where he was, looking at me critically.
“It’s too late to change now. It’s fine. Let’s go.”
I avoided him as much as I could throughout the evening. It wasn’t so much that I was punishing him than saving myself from the sting of humiliation every time his eyes dropped to my tummy.
But after hearing him heartily describe me as a juicy cherry to one of my staff, I could take no more. It was then I escaped to the office hallway and came upon Noelle and Hawkley. What a fucking disaster that was.
I might have handled that situation differently if I hadn’t been so raw myself.
Yeah. In that picture, it was already over.
I scrolled further. Five years’ worth of pictures. It was the last year when things had changed. What happened that last year to trigger his disdain?
Was it my weight gain?
Fatigue had dogged me. Mom and Dad thought I was working too hard, but I didn’t buy it.
The doctor confirmed a slaggy thyroid gland. She started me on medication immediately, but by the time it kicked in, I’d gained twenty pounds. A non-returnable, non-refundable, gift.
No matter what I ate or how I exercised, those twenty pounds refused to budge.
I made friends with it.
Paul didn’t.
Was that when he started treating me differently? Comments he claimed were made to encourage me filtered into our daily conversations.
“I read something about thyroid disease and weight gain…”
“I heard weightlifting is good for increasing your metabolism…”
“Walking is the best exercise for losing weight…”
“Are you sure you should wear that? It seems a little snug…”
I worked at a resort and regularly clocked twenty thousand steps a day. On top of that, I swam three times a week.
It wasn’t enough.
I began cooking more at home. Organic ingredients. Beans. Low carbs. More vegetables. Lots more vegetables. Protein powders. Supplements.
I couldn’t stray more than twenty feet from a toilet.
My bowels gurgled under the pressure all day long.
I needed a fucking piece of bread or a potato to soak up some of the fiber running through my system like it was the Indy 500.
I lost three pounds.
The diet was unsustainable. When I went back to my regular diet, which was healthy enough, I gained ten. And stayed there.
I had a choice. Accept where I was and be happy I wasn’t like some of the other patients at the thyroid clinic who fared much worse than I did or lament the loss of my twenty-something body for the rest of my life.
I chose acceptance.
But another six months of those comments made that decision nearly impossible to maintain.
I started working more hours. Avoiding him. Wearing pajamas to bed and refusing to remove them when we made love.
Work took up more and more of my free time. At work, I was valued and appreciated. At work, my efforts paid off. At work, people validated me.
And I had nothing else.
After Hunter died, Hawkley withdrew, Noelle moved away, and then I lost Christine, Noelle’s mom. The one person who had been there for me after Hunter passed.
The one person who knew what happened that day.
She carried my secret to the grave.
And so would I.
If I was independent, it was because when the shit hit the fan I had to be. No shade on my parents, or Hawk, or Noelle, or even Max, everybody dealt with the tragedy as best they could. It’s just the way it was.
If Paul couldn’t understand I’d let him in as best I could, that was on him. Not me.
I cringed at the remembrance of the times I showed him pictures of engagement rings I liked. My next thought had me squeezing my eyes shut. The wedding dresses I tried on at All Your Tomorrows. What was I thinking, doing that in Sage Ridge?
“Oh, God,” I groaned, mortified. The Christmas before last when I dragged him into the jewelry store in Mistlevale, a town designed after every kid’s dream of the North Pole, hoping that would be the year.
The disappointment I hid when I got the habitual bottle of perfume.
Perfume I didn’t wear.
The tears I cried in the shower, wondering what was wrong with me. Renewing my determination to lose weight, get in shape, work harder.
Do better.
And ultimately failing.
Yes. That last year we fell apart.
Whether there was something inherently wrong with me, whether he thought I was too independent or not didn’t matter in the long run. Because people were not perfect.
People, even the best of them, let you down. And if you couldn’t stand on your own two feet, you wouldn’t stand at all.
On Monday morning, I would meet with my parents again.
Make them see the value in my community outreach program.
It would be wonderful for the kids in the community to have a taste of how I grew up with my brothers, as well as Max, and Noelle.
To make those connections to nature. To revel in the great outdoors.
I had a magical childhood. And I wanted to share it.
Finding a new focus had marginally improved my mood, but by the time afternoon rolled around, Paul’s words had again taken up residence in my brain.
‘You didn’t need me.’
He was wrong.
Because the truth was, I had needed him.
I needed him to tell me he loved me and always would.
I needed him to tell me I was beautiful, if only to him.
I needed him to hold my hand, walk through life with me, and give me the children I so desperately wanted.
I needed him to show me I could be someone’s first choice.
That he would be there for me.
I needed him.
But he wasn’t there.
Reminding me of a lesson I’d already learned.
The only person I could trust to be there for me, was me.