Chapter 8
RYAN
The dinner portion of the wedding passes by in a blur. Sloane and I are finding every excuse to touch each other, to the point that I worry for a moment if our public displays of affection are crossing the line. But I don’t really care.
Every time I imagined this day over the past few months it had been with a raw dread, an existential fervor that gnawed at me.
Who broke up with someone in a small town, only to get engaged to that ex’s family member soon after, and then planned the wedding in the same town—small enough that it would be impossible for said ex-slash-relative to politely decline?
That dread has completely dissipated, and I realize now that it’s been fading exponentially over the course of the past week, with every small moment Sloane noticed something idyllic about my town, about my life, about the quiet regularity of it.
It was as though I’d never given myself permission to feel that way.
Strangely, I’ve actually enjoyed this evening, and not just because of the mind-blowing events of what just went down in the bridal suite.
And not in a “stick it to the ex” kind of way— though that could have been easy, given how beautiful my date is.
Maybe almost a faux pas, the same way that other women aren’t supposed to show up in white or upstage the bride with a showy dress.
I’d learned that from Calista when we were attending my college roommate’s wedding and I’d suggested she wear a gown I’d seen hanging in her closet.
“It’s too much,” she’d said, looking at me like I was crazy.
But now I get it. Without even trying, Sloane is commanding attention in the form of sideways glances, whispered “who is shes?”.
I feel a bit guilty, but also carefree, with Sloane at my side. Any time I introduce her to someone—an old friend, a family member, a new acquaintance—I find myself proud to have her on my arm. As though she’s actually mine.
But after what happened in the bridal suite—holy hell, the bridal suite—the line has become blurred. This started as a situation of convenience, but that was undeniably real… Wasn’t it?
Her arm brushes mine while we endure the bridal party speeches during dinner. Her laugh is musical when the couple across from us, actually nice, asks her where she’s from and how we met.
But this time, even though she executes our plan perfectly, I find myself a bit…put off. I’ve been so concerned with us pulling the wool over my friends’ and family’s eyes, but now, all I want is the truth.
What would anyone think if we told them that? This is Sloane. I found her on the beach after she bailed on her wedding. She’s agreed to be here with me in exchange for a place to stay.
Somewhere between the beach, the grilled cheese, the fake date, and the bridal suite, I stopped pretending this is a temporary ruse. I need to tell her that my feelings aren’t temporary either.
By the time the dance floor really gets started, I couldn’t be more in the mood to leave the party.
But Sloane—strangely, given the fact that she doesn’t know anyone here—seems to be having a great time. When Signed, Sealed, Delivered comes over the speakers, she practically rips me from my seat and pulls me toward the dancefloor, the last place I’d ever usually be found at a party.
“This is fun,” she whispers in my ear, and just the feeling of her warm, sweet breath on my skin dissolves any inhibitions in me. I have a feeling that if she asked, I’d strip down to my underwear and perform the macarena just to keep that smile on her face.
We dance for a while, until I recognize that it’s my moment.
“Hey,” I say. “Want to get out of here?”
“I’m not ready to go to bed yet,” Sloane says, and I see a woman who’s finally shed whatever was holding her back.
Who’s starting to live her authentic self, away from expectations, hierarchy, image.
“That’s not what I have in mind, trust me,” I say. And I can tell she does.
But then her expression shifts. It’s the same one I saw in the kitchen the first night she’d stayed, when we were eating grilled cheeses and the light of my phone came on and she snapped out of the moment into the past. To what she’d done.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not here.”
I turn and follow her sightline to see a sandy-haired, broad-shouldered man at the edge of the property. He’s looking at Sloane like he’s looking at a ghost. There’s recognition, but also surprise.
“Is that—”
“Jack,” she says. She looks left and right to see if anyone’s noticed the stranger who’s appeared at the reception, then turns to me. “I can’t believe he’s here.”
“Go talk to him,” I urge. I want to offer to go with her, to make sure she’s okay, but by all accounts, Jack’s a decent guy. I don’t blame him for coming to find her.
“I’ll—I’ll call you,” Sloane says, her voice wavering slightly.
I watch as she walks away, exchanges a few hushed words with Jack, then leads him out of the party.
They disappear down the path, and I’m hit with a gut punch.
Don’t be an idiot, I tell myself. Jack has every right to be here. Sloane needs to clear the air.
Closure. Whatever she needs.
I pull out my phone and text her. Take your time, I type.
I look back toward the reception. I can’t be here anymore. It’s not the same without her here.
It won’t be the same when she’s gone.
***
SLOANE
Heart pounding, I lead Jack down the gravel path, away from the reception, away from the curious onlookers.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, nausea roiling in my stomach.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Jack says. His tone is hard to read.
“How did you find me?”
“My parents know the Sandersons, the family who got a call that their boat was found here. Felt like a pretty good clue,” he said.
“When I drove down by the waterfront, the parking attendant told me everyone in town would be here.” He shakes his head.
“I can’t believe you haven’t even called.
” Jack looks tired. Beaten down. I’m suddenly aware of my outfit, and how my ring finger is bare except for the white ring of skin that hadn’t seen the sun for ages.
Tears sting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I know I should have called. I just—” How can I tell him that the idea of contacting him felt almost as suffocating as the vows we’d been about to make? “I don’t always know how to…talk to you.”
Jack shakes his head again and looks away. “You won’t believe what I’ve been dealing with the past few days. The guests who arrived from out of town. All the gifts piled up.” He pauses, and I know what’s coming. “My mother.”
I take a deep breath in. “How is she?”
Jack raises an eyebrow. “How do you think?”
I think… apoplectic.
“How are you?” I ask softly.
“I’ll be okay,” he says, although his voice is laced with hurt. “I just wish…”
“I should have said something sooner,” I say.
There’s silence between us, filled in only by the happy music thumping from the party. “So should I,” Jack says.
I take a steadying breath. “You felt it too?”
He nodded. “It just felt like we were too far in.”
The words land deep inside me. All this time I’d wondered if I’d imagined it, but hearing it from Jack’s mouth feels…
settling. I wish we could go back in time and be brave enough to say it to each other.
Jack looks back toward the reception, where the DJ has just increased the volume of the music. “I can’t believe you’re at a wedding.”
I nod, and for a moment I wonder if all of this is the result of some kind of temporary insanity on my part. A new place, new clothes, staying with a man who one week ago was a perfect stranger.
And then I think about the late-night conversations.
The shared moments of silence, waves lapping at our ankles as we walk with Marshall along the ocean.
The light in Ryan’s eyes when he shares details of his love for nature.
The way he looks at me when I speak, and makes me feel like I don’t need to be anyone but myself.
The look on his face when we were making love.
It was as real as the ocean.
Jack lets out a rough exhale. “How did—” He stops and puts a hand up. “I don’t even want to know.” He shakes his head. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Clearly you’re fine.”
Am I fine? Yes. I’m more than fine. But I’m going to spare Jack those details. “Thank you for checking on me,” is all I say. “I’ll be back next week to get my things. I’ll return the ring and the necklace.”
Jack appears visibly relieved at that. Clearly, that was a chief source of his mother’s consternation. Possibly even the reason that he came looking for me.
“And I’m sorry,” I say. I mean it.
Jack starts to walk away, and I take a deep, centering breath. Across the street, his silver Audi glints beneath the fading light. “Nice sandals,” he calls back to me, and I can’t help but smile.
The sky is darkening when I return to the party. All I want is to find Ryan, to be by his side again. I’ve never been more certain of anything. I spot his cousin Ariana near the bar. “Have you seen Ryan? I ask.
“I think he left,” Ariana says. “I thought you’d gone with him.”
Suddenly the certainty I’d just been standing in evaporates. Is he upset that Jack was here? Surely he knows it’s over between us. And that I wouldn’t have slept with him if it weren’t.
I open my purse and go to take out my phone to call and see where he is, then I stop. I know where to find him. But there’s something I need to get first.
I place my phone back in my purse, and my hand brushes against something cool. It’s the stone I bought at The Water Witch.
Transformation. I clutch it in my hand.
Over the past week, my life has veered in a whole new direction in a way that’s equal parts scary and exhilarating.
The thing is, I don’t think I’ve become someone new.
I’m becoming who I’m meant to be.