Chapter 33
EBBA
“Eb, please talk to us,” Sabrina’s voice reaches me from the other side of the bathroom stall.
“Oh, god,” I sob. “Why did you follow me? This is your wedding. You need to be with your husband.”
“I just gave him vows to be with him the rest of our lives. Right now, my best friend needs me. He can handle himself for a few minutes.”
That manages to pull a small laugh from me. “I’m okay, I promise.”
“Don’t lie to us.” Whimsy’s strappy silver heels appear beneath the door. “We can see through your bullshit.”
A sigh rattles through me. “You guys really didn’t need to check on me. I’m just busy freaking out and there isn’t much you can do.”
“Why don’t you come out here and talk to us?” Sabrina presses. “Like you said, it is my wedding, and I’d really rather talk to you face to face instead of through a door.”
I unlock the door and face the two of them. “Hi.”
“Hi,” they echo with smiles.
“Why are you freaking out?”
Whimsy’s question has me feeling even more ridiculous about my mini meltdown.
“Because”—I hope I don’t sound as hysterical to them, as I do to myself— “I gave Fisher a promise of six months and in my mind I was already dead set on divorce at the end of this. I didn’t think there was any possible way for me to ever move on and forgive him, but …
He’s Fisher. He’s so inherently good and right for me and talking to him again …
it’s impossible to keep holding a grudge.
And I … I guess I’m mad that he’s just so fucking easy to …
to love. Not that I’m in love with him again, but I…
” I press a hand to my head where I worry a migraine may be coming on. “It’s too fast,” I say.
“Or, maybe”—Sabrina reaches for my hands— “it’s just right. Maybe neither of you truly stopped loving each other.”
My eyes bounce between my two friends. “He said he hasn’t been with another woman since me and that—” I close my eyes, shaking my head. “It shouldn’t make me so relieved to hear that, but it does, and then I feel guilty because I dated and I certainly wasn’t celibate.”
“Hey.” Sabrina grabs my face gently. “You have nothing to feel guilty for. You both made your own decisions. You were trying to move on with your life.”
“I know, but—”
“No buts,” she cuts me off. “And don’t overthink what you feel now.
You two have history. It’s not impossible that you might develop feelings faster than normal.
” It’s on the tip of my tongue to refute what she says, that I don’t have feelings for him, but we’d all know it was a lie.
And it’s exhausting trying to convince myself I don’t care for him.
“Stop stressing yourself out. Just enjoy the next few months and see where things take you.” She squeezes my shoulder in reassurance.
“Ebba.” Sabrina says my name in a soft tone, like I’m a deer she’s worried about startling. “You deserve to be happy. Whatever that looks like for you.”
I’m not sure why it’s so difficult for me to believe that I deserve to be happy. That if Fisher is what makes me happy then that’s okay.
“Listen,” Sabrina goes on, reaching down for my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m not trying to overstep, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think after what you told us last night that maybe you should think about seeing a therapist. I think there’s a lot you’re holding onto that you might feel more comfortable sharing with someone outside of us. ”
My first emotion is anger—anger that she would suggest there’s something wrong enough with me that I need therapy. The second is fear—that a therapist might take one look at me and see right through my walls. And the third, perhaps the scariest, is acceptance because I think she might be right.
“I’ll think about it,” I say in quiet defeat.
Sabrina wraps me in a hug and Whimsy is quick to join.
“Get back to your husband,” I encourage Sabrina. “I just need to touch up my makeup a bit.”
Sabrina looks torn on leaving, but she gives in and nods before slipping out the door.
“Come here,” Whimsy commands, already rifling through her clutch. “Let me fix you up.”
I hold still and let her dab at my face where I’ve no doubt smeared my makeup. She swipes a gloss over my lips and gives me a smile. “Good as new.” She gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not in this alone, Ebba. Remember that.”
I pull her into another hug and squeeze her tight. Whimsy has an infinitely kind heart. “Thank you.”
“Always.”
Outside of the bathroom I’m surprised to find Fisher leaning against the wall across from the restrooms. Though, maybe I shouldn’t be that surprised.
Whimsy glances back at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m good. You can get back to the reception.”
She hesitates for a second longer before she leaves the two of us alone in the hallway outside of the reception space.
Fisher meets me in the middle, holding my cane out to me. Some of the rhinestones I glued onto it are beginning to fall off.
“Thanks.”
He clears his throat, sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. He looks so sinfully good. I’ve done my best to avoid looking at him over the years, because I always knew I wasn’t immune to him.
“I want you to know I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad or anything like that with what I said.
I just…” He runs his fingers through his hair until it’s mussed and standing up slightly in the front.
“I thought you should know. I don’t want you to have any doubts about my feelings and where I stand with us.
But I also don’t want you to feel any kind of pressure that if at the end of this, you choose to leave, that you’re ruining my life somehow.
” He steps closer to me, and he pulls one hand from his pocket, reaching up like he wants to touch me, but he lets his hand drop back to his side. “I’ll be okay, Ebba.”
I wet my lips. “Are you sure?”
He shrugs. “At least I’ll know I got a second chance and won’t have a what if hanging over me.”
I don’t want to take this conversation any further right now and find myself blurting out, “Sabrina suggested I try therapy.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Do you think it would help you?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know, maybe?” It comes out as a question. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
Silence descends between us, and I hate that after the past month it suddenly feels awkward again.
Fisher’s shoulders fall slightly. “Things are winding down in there, but I was thinking I might go for a walk before bed.”
“Do you want company?”
A small smile ticks up the corners of his lips. “I always want your company.”
Darkness has fallen outside, and it’s a beautiful clear night with no clouds in sight. The temperature has dropped, and Fisher takes note of my shiver and immediately shrugs off his tux jacket.
“Don’t you need it?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
There’s a crowd of locals gathered in a grassy area, watching a band perform.
“I like it here,” I muse.
“It’s a cute town,” he agrees, his arm brushing mine as we walk.
It’s pure instinct that has me reaching out and lacing our fingers together. He glances down at our joined hands and gives a small smile.
We walk along the street; down a way we haven’t gone before.
“Do you see what I see?” he asks.
I smile up at him, feeling lighter than I did in the reception. “Ice cream?”
He gives an eager nod, and our steps quicken as we head for the shop.
A bell dings above the door, signaling our arrival. The teenage boy behind the counter curses under his breath. “Sorry, folks. We’re closed. I forgot to lock the door.”
“Oh.” Disappointment clouds my tone.
Fisher digs his free hand into his pocket and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. “All the change is yours if you can get my girl what she wants.”
The teenager’s eyes widen. “Deal. But you can’t eat here.”
“That’s fine,” Fisher says, passing the kid the money. “Do you guys have malts?” he asks.
He nods like an eager puppy. Ryan his name tag reads. “We do.”
Fisher cocks his head in my direction. “The usual?”
“I’ll never say no to a chocolate malt.”
With a chuckle, Fisher holds up a finger. “One chocolate malt, please.”
Considering I’m already a bit chilly, ice cream probably isn’t my smartest idea, but now that we’re here I can’t turn it down.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks, man.” Fisher takes the cup from him and grabs up a straw from the dispenser. “We’ll be out of your way now. Make sure to lock the door this time.”
“Oh, right. Good idea,” he says, following behind us. “You guys have a good night.”
The lock clicks shut behind us and Fisher passes me the shake.
“Do you want to keep walking or head back to the inn?”
As if in answer, my leg gives an annoyed twinge. “I think a shower and bed is calling my name.”
“Same,” he agrees. “I’m getting too old for late nights.”
Bumping his shoulder lightly with mine, I say, “That’s right. You’re going to be thirty soon.”
“Yep.” He slows his pace to match mine. “I feel like I blinked and it happened.” He reaches for my hand before we cross the street.
“Not that thirty is old, but I think when you get to this age you really begin to conceptualize how fleeting it all is. It all really does pass you by in the blink of an eye.”
“Do you have any regrets from your twenties?”
He stops on the sidewalk beneath the glow of the streetlight. “One.”
“What?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. It hits me then what he’s hinting at. “Oh.”
He reaches out, gently touching his fingers to my cheek. “I never thought I would get a second chance with you, and I feel like I keep fucking it up and scaring you away.”
“No.” I lower my gaze to my feet. “It’s me. I’m the problem. I keep letting my fears get in the way and that’s not fair to you or me.”
“It’s okay.”
He says that and I know he means it, but it’s not. My mind has never been so scrambled before. This man manages to get me twist turned every which way where I can’t tell up from down and my thoughts are so tangled together there’s no chance of unraveling them.
I need to accept that I still have feelings for him and pretending I don’t is hurting us both.