26. Wade
— ? —
Wade
The lobster boats were lining up at the starting buoy when I saw her.
Dolores Vandermeer stood at the edge of the crowd like a piece of designer flotsam that had washed up on the wrong shore.
She was wearing resort wear, white linen, gold jewelry, heels that were sinking into the grass with every step.
She looked like she’d gotten lost on her way to the Hamptons and somehow ended up in coastal Maine.
She looked like my past, refusing to stay buried.
“Wade.” Her voice carried across the crowd. Heads turned. “Wade, we need to talk.”
Luisa’s hand tightened around Poppy’s. I felt her tense beside me, felt her whole body go rigid with recognition.
“Dolores.” I kept my voice flat. “What are you doing here?”
She picked her way through the crowd, her heels leaving divots in the lawn. Up close, she looked tired. Older than the last time I’d seen her, though it had only been a few months. The trial had aged all of us.
“What am I doing here?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I’m looking for you. Obviously. Do you know how hard it is to track down someone who’s decided to play house in a fishing village?”
“I didn’t decide to play anything.”
“No?” She gestured at Luisa, at Poppy, at the festival happening around us. “This isn’t a game? This isn’t you pretending to be someone you’re not?”
“I’m exactly who I’ve always been.”
“The Wade I knew would never be caught dead at a lobster festival. The Wade I knew had standards.”
“The Wade you knew didn’t exist. That was the version of me my father wanted you to see.”
Her expression flickered. “Don’t blame your father for everything. He’s not here to defend himself.”
“He’s in prison. That’s where people who commit crimes end up.”
“He loved you-”
“He controlled me. There’s a difference.” I stepped forward, positioning myself between Dolores and my family. “What do you want, Dolores? Why are you here?”
“I want to know if you’re happy.”
“What?”
“Are you happy? Living your small perfect life while you ruined mine?” Her voice rose, drawing more attention from the crowd. “Do you ever think about what you did? The promises you broke? The life we were supposed to have?”
I stared at her. Felt nothing but a vague, distant pity.
“What promises?”
“The-” She sputtered. “The engagement. The merger. Our fathers’ agreement-”
“I never agreed to any of that.”
“You were going to propose-”
“I was never going to propose.” My voice was calm. Steady. “I don’t know what my father told you, or what story you’ve been telling yourself for the past decade. But I never made you a single promise. I never gave you any indication that there was a future between us.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. You were my friend, Dolores. We grew up in the same circles, attended the same events. I liked you well enough. But I never loved you. I never wanted to marry you. I never considered, for a single moment, spending my life with you.”
Her face went white. “But your father said-”
“My father said a lot of things. He said them to you because he wanted to control me through the promise of a merger. He said them to me because he wanted to control me through threats against my wife. He was a manipulator. He used both of us.”
“We could have been happy-”
“No.” I cut her off. “We couldn’t. I’m sorry our fathers raised you on a promise I never made. I’m sorry you believed something that was never going to happen. But there is no version of my life with you in it. There never was.”
“You were photographed with me-”
“Photographs my father arranged. To hurt my wife. To make her leave me so she would be safe from his threats.” I felt Luisa go still beside me.
“I only thought of you as a friend. I only followed my father’s delusion because my wife’s life was in danger.
Never, not in any lifetime, would I have married you. ”
The crowd had gone quiet. Everyone was watching.
“And yes,” I said, “I’m here for my wife and my daughter. You’re not welcome.”
The words sat there between us.
My wife.
I felt the shift in the crowd. Felt heads turn, felt whispers start. Felt Luisa’s sharp intake of breath.
Dolores’ face contorted. Rage, humiliation, years of misplaced hopes collapsing in on themselves. She lunged forward, not at me, but at Luisa.
Her hand closed around Luisa’s arm.
“This is your fault-”
What happened next was so fast I almost missed it.
Luisa moved. One smooth motion, effortless and precise. Her free hand came up, caught Dolores’ wrist. Twisted slightly. Applied exactly enough pressure to make Dolores’ grip release without actually causing injury.
The whole thing took maybe two seconds.
Luisa never spilled a drop of the lemonade she was holding.
“Careful,” she said mildly. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Dolores staggered back, clutching her wrist, her face mottled with shock and embarrassment. She opened her mouth to answer-
“BOO!”
Doris’s voice rang out across the crowd, clear and delighted.
“BOOO!” Agnes joined in.
“Go away!” Fern shouted. “You’re not welcome here!”
“This is a family event!” Maude added. “We don’t need your drama!”
The booing spread. What started with four grandmothers rippled through the crowd, lobster festival attendees joining in, their voices rising in a chorus of disapproval. Someone started a slow clap. Someone else whistled.
“That was more of a brick to the face than a hint, hon!” a woman called from near the dunk tank. I recognized her as one of the yoga class attendees from earlier.
Dolores looked around wildly, surrounded by hostile faces and growing mockery. Her designer clothes suddenly looked ridiculous against the backdrop of lobster bibs and festival t-shirts. Her careful makeup was starting to smear.
Sheriff Pruitt appeared at my elbow. “Everything alright here, Mr. Buckley?”
“I believe Ms. Vandermeer was just leaving.”
Pruitt nodded, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes twinkling with barely suppressed amusement. “Ma’am, can I offer you a personal escort to the county line? Seems like you’ve gotten a bit turned around.”
Dolores stared at him, at me, at the crowd, still booing and clapping and thoroughly enjoying her humiliation.
“This isn’t over,” she hissed.
“Yes it is.” I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to. “Goodbye, Dolores.”
Sheriff Pruitt took her elbow, gently, professionally, and guided her toward the parking area. The crowd parted to let them through, and as she walked, the slow clapping followed her. A steady, rhythmic sound track to her exit from my life.
I watched her go. Felt nothing but relief.
When I turned back, Luisa was watching me.
Her expression was strange. Soft, somehow. Wondering.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You’re looking at me like I grew a second head.”
“It’s just…” She hesitated. “That was a first.”
“What was a first?”
“Someone putting me first.”
The words hit me somewhere under the ribs.
“Lu-”
“You called me your wife.” Her voice was quiet, meant only for me. “In front of everyone. You called me your wife.”
“You are my wife.”
“We’re divorced.”
“Paper doesn’t change what you are to me.
” I reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You’ve always been my wife. You’ll always be my wife.
Even if you never forgive me. Even if you never let me back in.
I’ll spend whatever life I’ve got left putting you first, whether you want me to or not. ”
Her eyes were bright. Not quite tears, but close.
“The lobster race,” she said finally. “We’re missing the lobster race.”
“Are we?”
“Poppy’s been looking forward to it.”
I glanced down. Poppy was pressed against Luisa’s legs, her eyes wide, taking in everything that had just happened. She looked confused and fascinated and slightly concerned.
“The mean lady is gone?” she asked.
“The mean lady is gone.”
“Good. I didn’t like her.”
“Neither did I, dragon.”
Luisa laughed, a short, surprised sound. Then she took Poppy’s hand and turned toward the harbor.
I followed.
And I caught the look she gave me over her shoulder. The warmth in it. The wonder.
I’d put her first.
For the first time in her life, someone had.
I was going to spend the rest of mine making up for all the times no one had.