Chapter 8
Aubrey
Four Weeks Before the Outing
Aubrey stood between Ilena and Mallory waiting for the tears to come.
They hadn’t yet, not when she’d gotten the call from the hospital, not in the back seat of Ilena’s SUV as they crossed the
Salt and Pepper Bridge to Mass General Hospital, not even as she’d nearly collapsed in the emergency room when that intern
led her to the bed and pulled back the mint-green curtain, then the white sheet. Giving her an image she would trade anything
not to have. She was his emergency contact, but not yet his next of kin. The proposal she’d accepted, the ring still to come.
Today she’d chosen black slip-on mules, not trusting herself to balance on heels. Though honestly, they were sneakers. The
same ones she’d worn when she and Ethan had taken the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard and rented bikes for the day, stopping for
lobster rolls and the obligatory photo op on the bridge from Jaws. That trip was her first experience with sex outdoors, which after the initial forbidden thrill, left her with sand in her
underwear and a renewed appreciation for mattresses.
The ground was hard beneath her feet in this cemetery on Long Island.
They’d taken the train to his hometown, Ilena handling the ticket and settling her into a seat, and Mallory carrying the bag she’d packed for Aubrey and slipping her the Xanax that softened the edges just enough for her to withstand the crippling guilt that almost prevented her from coming to Ethan’s funeral.
It was all her fault. If she hadn’t kept texting him, if she’d just let that one text be enough and not sent an impulsive,
uncharacteristic second that must have made him feel compelled to respond even though he was walking across the street. If
she had just let things be, not made that one, selfish choice, she wouldn’t be meeting the Sonders family for the first time
in a cemetery.
But Mallory had been waiting for them in the bar. The drink she’d insisted was the perfect one for Aubrey and Ethan’s wedding
reception already ordered. Aubrey was on her way, but she hadn’t gotten anything back from Ethan, not a “can’t wait” or “almost
there” or thumbs-up or even just a smiley face to acknowledge the fact that his fiancée had texted him.
Aubrey was embarrassed, afraid of looking stupid in front of Mallory. Of all the things Mallory was good at pretending, liking
Ethan wasn’t one of them. So she’d done it, sent that second text, and in the middle of a response to her left forever unfinished,
he’d been hit by a bus. And do you have any idea how many jokes there are about being hit by a bus?
She vowed, there at her fiancé’s grave site, in between Mallory and Ilena, to never text again. She’d need some excuse to
read but not reply. She couldn’t tell anyone, she couldn’t stand the way they’d all look at her if they knew she’d killed
her fiancé.