5. Wendy
Three years. I hadn't seen Blair, my bestie, for three fucking years. Three years too long, and she was here. On my birthday. Sitting on my doorstep holding a cake for who knows how long. My heart twisted when she asked if she could come in. As if that was even a question. But maybe my behavior toward her over the years proved that it was. Ugh, when did I morph into such a bitch to the people who were always there for me?
“Oh my God. Blair!” I ran to my friend and hugged her, almost knocking the strawberry shortcake from her hand. We both screamed when the dessert almost went down, but once it was secured and balanced, we laughed like nothing had changed between us.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to choke out through laughter. “We were just talking this morning.” I motioned to Blair's figure, dressed in all black except for her white shirt that popped underneath her black peacoat. “When did you get here?”
“About two hours ago. I was sick of wishing my bestie a happy birthday over the phone, and I was just sick of only talking to you over the phone. So, I told Zachary I was leaving and would return in a few days. We haven't seen each other in years. Unacceptable.” Blair held a finger up to the blue moonlight.
“Well, we've been busy. You had a baby. How is Sadie, by the way?” Almost a year ago, Blair had a second daughter, her first with Zachary. “Hold on! Inside now.” I pointed to the red craftsman door.
Blair nodded, and we stepped inside my home's warm, cozy confines. I closed the door behind us, shutting out the biting wind. Inside, it was quiet and peaceful. “She's great,” Blair sighed as she placed the cake on my kitchen table. She brushed a few stray crumbs from the icing delicately as though she was grooming her child's hair. “She's turning into a mini-me and has Zach wrapped around her little finger.”
“Really? You can tell even though she's still an infant?” I shrugged off my coat and took Blair's, hanging both from the wrought iron rack next to the door. The house I bought here two years ago was far from big, but it had everything I wanted.
“Sadie won't be an infant for long. In a month, she turns one.” Blair sighed, staring into space as if reliving the last eleven months.
“It's incredible how fast time goes.” I shook my head, thinking about time.
“It is,” Blair agreed, her eyes fixed on a distant point. “And it doesn't wait for anyone.”
We sat, allowing the silence to soak in the room like a fog hovering over a meadow in the early morning light. I glanced at Blair, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the table lamp. She looked tired but happy.
“Want some coffee?” I asked eventually, breaking the silence.
She turned toward me and smiled, that same old Blair charm that could light up a room. “Sure.”
I pushed myself off the seat and moved to the kitchen. Blair followed me, settling herself onto one of my kitchen stools. As the coffee machine gurgled to life, I could not help but embrace the comfortable warmth of Blair's presence. It was strange how, after years of separation, it was normal to have her in my space again.
“Hey.” I pivoted to face Blair. “How did you know my address?”
“Um, hello?” Blair dropped her chin, staring at me through heavy lids. “I send you a birthday card every year.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Of course you do. I forgot.”
Blair grinned at me, a familiar twinkle in her eye. “Yeah, you've got the memory of a goldfish.”
As the coffee brewed, the smell filled the kitchen, rich and comforting. I pulled two floral butterfly mugs from a cabinet and set them on the counter. With Blair here, my lonely birthday suddenly seemed a lot brighter. The coffee finished brewing, and I carefully poured it into the mugs. The rich aroma wafted through the kitchen, mingling with the sweet scent of Blair's homemade cake. I slid a mug across the counter to her, watching as she wrapped her hands around it, heating her hands.
“I can't believe you're here.” My eyes stayed glued to Blair, believing if I shifted them away, she'd disappear, and this would just be a dream to wake up to a cruel reality.
“I kept saying one day I'd surprise you despite you insisting I didn't need to make the trip.” She took a steaming sip. “You missed me, don't lie.”
“Of course I missed you. You're staying here, by the way.”
“I know.” Blair smiled.
“We'll have to share a bed, though. I never exactly turned my guest bedroom into much of a bedroom. It's more like a storage unit.” I smirked. Blair's eyes danced around my house, taking in the new place I called home. “This place is fantastic. Did you decorate it?”
“I did.” I grinned proudly.
“It looks like you,” she said, her gaze returning to rest on me. “Comfortable, cozy, a little eclectic.”
I couldn't help but chuckle. “Is that how you see me?”
She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “Isn't that how you see yourself?”
Before answering, my eyes darted to the double-sided, white brick fireplace I rarely lit and the wide-planked beachwood floors. The walls were a combination of denim wallpaper and exposed red brick accent walls. The white kitchen cabinets accentuated the royal blue island with Carrera white marble countertops. Nothing in this house matched, but it somehow fell into place.
Touché. “Guess you're right.” My eyes shifted to the untouched cake, and I wanted to eat a piece badly, but I was packed from birthday cake number one.
“We can save the cake for tomorrow.” Blair smiled over the rim of her cup.
“How did you know?” I matched her smile.
“Because I know you. You would be devouring the cake by now if you weren't full. I guess you had a big birthday dinner without me,” Blair added, winking and teasing me.
“I didn't have any dinner.” I rolled my eyes. “Stephen brought a cake over to work after we closed.”
“Stephen? As in the Stephen who loves you?” Blair's eyes popped, and she wiggled her eyebrows.
“He does not love me. And I do not feel anything for him.” And I wasn't kidding, either.
Instead of challenging me, a wave of contagious yawns gripped Blair's face before spilling onto mine. We found each other through bleary eyes, and it was just about midnight, the official end of my birthday.
“Tired?” I asked the obvious.
Blair's yawn broke into a chuckle. “Not at all.”
“Uh-huh.” I stood, placing the cake on the middle shelf of the fridge, and closed the door, signaling Blair to follow. “I hope you like red flannel PJs because that's all I have here.”
“Anything cozy I love.” Blair sneaked behind me before throwing her arms around my shoulders. “I'm so happy I'm here.”
“Me too, babe. But let's get some sleep, please? It is my birthday. You can't say no to me.”
“Fine, fine. To be continued tomorrow.”
We made our way up the creaky wooden stairs, each step echoing the house's history. I led Blair to my bedroom—a large, airy room with an overgrown fern in the corner and a circle of chairs near the fireplace. The walls were painted a soothing seafoam green, and the sheer white curtains floated gently in the cool night breeze.
“Shit, it's freezing in here.” Blair threw her arms around her chest. “You shouldn't keep the window open when you're not home. It's not safe.”
“Okay, officer. And you'll see, this fresh air knocks you out in seconds.” I pointed to the pitch-black earth beyond the window.
I rummaged through my closet, pulling out two matching red flannel PJs. Handing one to Blair, she fanned out the clothes. “Twins!”
“You're telling me.” She studied the nighttime attire before nodding her approval.
After changing into our PJs, we climbed onto the bed under the heavy duvet. Blair immediately curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
“This feels too romantic.” I stared at the still white ceiling fan.
“Sorry,” said Blair. “I just still can't believe I'm here with you.” She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling in the dim, silvery moonlight seeping through the window.
“I know. Me too.” I threw a soft smile, patting her forearm. “Let's get some sleep. I'll show you around Newport tomorrow. You're going to love it.”
“Sounds great.” Blair shifted away, taking her warmth, and sank into the marshmallow pillows. “Goodnight, birthday girl.”
I shook my head and pulled the chain to the nightstand's bronze lamp, killing the bedroom's soft light. “Goodnight.”
“This place is amazing. What street is this again?” asked Blair, taking in the quaint storefronts, from green awnings to all glass entry facades.
“Thames Street.” I laughed while resting the clear straw of my iced coffee against my tongue.
“Even the coffee is amazing.” Blair matched her wide eyes with an indulgent drink of her beverage.
“I told you I love it here.” The fresh New England air, tinged with ocean, filled my nostrils.
“I can see why,” she murmured, her gaze lost in the shimmering blue expanse of sea beyond the line of shops. “It's beautiful.” Blair gave a half laugh laced with a trace of heartbreak. “I can see why you'll never return to New York.”
My heart lurched, but I only grinned, shrugging. Blair was right. I'd never go back to New York, not after what happened. But we knew that already.
We wandered for hours, exploring every corner of Thames Street—from quirky antique stores to fragrant bakeries serving hot clam chowder and fresh pastries. The cobblestone streets filled with leisurely strolling crowds added a charm only amplified by the sunny weather. Blair would often stop to take pictures or admire the architecture.
“Oh, what's this place?” Blair asked, studying the town's gem of a store. The display window housed a classic black Ford Model T, probably from the 1920s.
“This is Stephen's store. Newport's Trinkets.” I motioned to the gold and black sign above the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. I pulled Blair's arm to keep moving, not in the mood to introduce her.
“Oh, Stephen.” She winked. “You don't want to go in?” Blair motioned to the store as we increased our distance.
“Nah. Not today. Trust me, if I give Stephen two days of attention in a row, I'll get his hopes up.”
“I don't understand why you won't just go on one date.” Blair held up a single finger.
“Because I don't like him in that way, Blair.”
“Fair enough,” Blair shrugged, eyes scanning the street ahead. “Everyone has their type.”
“What's that's supposed to mean?” I twisted my face, my pulse ticking up.
“I feel like you’ve always gone for the bad boy or arrogant type. Stephen is neither of those from how you’ve described him.”
“I feel like you're trying to say something without saying it.” I cast Blair a half-glared side-eye, and she swallowed, her throat clicking.
“Forget I said anything.” Blair rolled her eyes.
“No, just say it.” My feet stopped walking, but my mind continued to race.
“I worry about you, that's all. It's been three years.” Blair stepped closer.
“Please don't.” I knew exactly where this was going, and I was surprised we lasted for three years without bringing up the subject.
“You should try to date. I think it would be good for you.”
“Only I know what’s good for me.” I jabbed a stiff finger into my chest.
“Of course you do. I was only making a suggestion.” Blair shrugged.
“Why don’t you just say what you really want to say? You came all the way to Newport to make small talk with me? I don’t think so.” I pointed a finger at Blair’s chest, piercing the space between us.
“I know you moved for a fresh start, but have you really moved on?”
“Hold on.” I held up a shaky hand. “Where is this coming from?”
“Wendy, we’re just worried about you.”
“What do you mean we are worried? We don't even see each other anymore, and maybe this is why. I don't need reminders from my past. I’m happy, can’t you see? Why are you trying to bring me down?” My nostrils flared. The air suddenly struggled to leave my lungs, and I thought I was dying as my chest tightened. Beads of cold sweat sprouted across my forehead, and I wasn't sure if I would puke or faint. Blair's eyes widened as she clutched my arm, and before I knew it, I was being dragged to a black iron bench far too many feet away.
“Easy, Wendy, easy.” Blair's voice was a soothing murmur against the pounding heartbeat in my ears. The bench was cold beneath me, the iron digging into my black cashmere sweater. She pressed her fingers to my wrist as though checking my pulse.
“I'm not having a heart attack,” I snapped. The name 'Vincent' echoed in my head like some crazed mantra. I trained myself to not think about him. This was why I fled New York. To be away from him. The life we had built. All the memories we created and thought I’d look back on them fondly when I was an old woman. But now? They were the last thing I wanted to draw upon.
“Shh.” Blair pulled me closer as if old times dictated our actions. We sat in silence for an eternity, the bustle of Thames Street continuing in an oblivious hum around us. “I'm sorry,” Blair breathed after a while, her gaze fixed on the cobblestones beneath us. Her hand—still clinging tightly to mine—relaxed, and she turned to look at me. Her eyes were soft, filled with regret and concern, making the anger dwindle. “You're right,” she continued quietly. “I shouldn't have brought him up.”
I looked away from her then, my gaze resting on Stephen's store across the street. A man was peering at that old Ford Model T, his interest piqued by Stephen's odd collection of antiques.
“I'm fine, Blair.” My voice seemed distant even to my own ears, empty words used far too often. The truth was, no one knew how Vincent left me the night he fled. All people understood was he had left. But no one knew in what state he abandoned me. What we did that night still sent chills down my spine, but the abandonment was beyond shattering and humiliating. I wasn't prepared for anything that came after. I had to sit with all those truths, and three years later, the simple mention of his name sent me spiraling into a well of doom.
Blair pulled a bottle of water from her bag, unscrewed the cap, and didn't give me a choice as she brought the cool liquid to my lips, and I sipped eagerly. “Better?” she asked, finally releasing her iron grip on the bottle once I'd drained half of it.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. We sat in silence for a moment more, the noise of passing cars and distant chatter only amplifying the quiet between us.
“You know, I wanted to ask you something.” Blair cleared her throat, shifting. “Sadie is going to be one in less than a month, and we're going to have a first birthday party for her.” Blair's eyes stayed glued to the uneven pavement, and I knew what was coming. “Zachary and I would love it if you could come. You can stay with us for however long you decide.” Her eyes lifted from the ground and locked on mine. “You can finally meet Sadie.” She shrugged, offering a lopsided smile.
“I'm not sure,” I confessed, my gaze lingering on a family walking past us. The father swinging his daughter high into the air, the mother laughing heartily at their antics. A pang of longing shot through me at their display of simple joy. To be part of a world where laughter came easily and love flowed freely seemed a distant dream now.
“I know. I just wanted you to know you’re invited, and we'd love for you to be there.” Blair's fingers squeezed mine gently, her touch grounding me, reminding me that while I might have felt like an outsider looking in, I wasn't alone. “You don't need to decide right now.” Her voice was soft and understanding. “Just promise me you'll think about it.”
“I will,” I assured her even as my heart continued its tug-of-war. And I wondered, when would this battle within my body would end? And the stranger question that loomed even higher above me was if I wanted it to end at all.