11. Meredith
MEREDITH
Pacing the beach house kitchen while checking the time every thirty seconds—even though I know that won’t make anyone arrive sooner—does little to calm my frantic heart. The plan that felt like such a good idea when I enacted it suddenly feels overwhelming.
Sure, Mer, let’s just go ahead and tell them everything at once. Rip the bandage off in one go. No repeating the story, no avoiding one person only to run into another. No more lies by omission simply because I’m too much of a coward to handle the fallout—a brilliant idea, in theory.
They deserve the truth.
I just need to gather the courage to tell it.
Mom’s asleep in the living room, the kitchen island between us, completely oblivious to my panicked state of mind. But the messages had gone out; there was no turning back now.
Thinking about it, I should really move to the next room so we don’t disturb her—in case they yell, which they more than likely will.
I’m almost across the hall when Sophie pokes her head through the front door.
Her blond hair is pulled back from her face in a claw clip, and her stature relaxes at the sight of me.
“Hey,” she calls as she toes off her shoes. “Is everything okay?”
“I’ll explain when everyone’s here,” I answer honestly.
Her frown only deepens as she approaches. For a moment, she gives me a quick once-over before promptly pulling me into a hug and nuzzling into my ear. “Why do I get the feeling you’re being dramatic over nothing?”
I almost laugh at how untrue that might be in ten minutes.
Before I can respond, the front door slams again—hard enough to rattle the picture frames. Trent trudges past us without so much as a glance and heads straight for the living room.
“Hey—” I call after him, but he’s gone.
Sophie just shakes her head before muttering. “Long story.”
I leave it. It’s not like I have the bandwidth to untangle their knots right now.
“Hi, Eleanor,” Trent’s voice sounds after a moment.
There’s a shuffle, a gasp, and then, “Hello, baby! Look how tall you got!”
I sigh. “She was asleep.”
“I’ll get him,” Sophie offers, just as the front door opens again.
My nerves get the better of me. I make a beeline for the office and throw instructions over my shoulder at Sophie, pointedly refusing to see who’s just walked in.
The office is smaller, but there are enough chairs for everyone to sit. It feels less…personal in here. The kitchen always felt haunted by a thousand memories, but the office? It’s Richard’s domain these days, and we rarely came in here as kids.
There’s a gentle knock on the door.
Then there’s Eddie. Framed in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. Looking around as if it’s the first time he’s seen the interior. It might well be. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I breathe out, relief and tension crashing into each other.
He steps inside. “You sure you want to do this with everyone here? I don’t mind talking privately, if you’d prefer.”
I swallow. Because, of course, part of me wants that. To deal with this together, without the unpredictability of the others. But I look over his shoulder as the last piece of the puzzle walks in behind him.
June.
She looks about as good as I feel. Her eyes land on me briefly before drifting away—no softness like Sophie or gentleness like Eddie, just a polite neutrality that hurts worse than anger.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing myself to stand straighter. “They all deserve to know.”
Eddie studies me for a second longer before nodding and taking a seat next to where June has made herself comfortable in the corner. Sophie and Trent arrive seconds later, hissing at each other before breaking apart to opposite sides of the room.
It’s not a comfortable atmosphere by any stretch of the imagination.
And in some dramatic force of irony, just as I wonder how it could possibly get any worse, Richard pops his head around the door. “What are you all doing in here?”
“Line dancing,” June deadpans.
He ignores her in favor of throwing me an expectant look.
“Family meeting.” I shrug.
To my horror, Richard steps inside, folding his arms across his chest and, for all intents and purposes, seems content to stay.
“It’s actually…” I’m suddenly at a loss for how to kick him out.
“It’s a private matter,” Sophie rallies in my prolonged silence.
Richard huffs. “If this is about Eleanor, then I have every right?—”
“It’s not,” I quickly reassure him. “Really, Richard, there’s just something I need to discuss with them.”
His eyes narrow. “Ah. I see, the ‘Meredith show’ is on again, is it?”
June, to my mortification, snorts.
“Richard, please. Just leave.”
“Why?” He throws me a smirk. “This is my house, my office. If you wanted to have a dramatic meeting, you could’ve chosen a dozen other locations.”
So much for a truce.
“Richard,” Sophie admonishes again.
“Are you leaving again?” Richard continues, talking over her. “Is that it, fifteen years not enough? You see your mother to her deathbed, and you’re ready to pack it in.”
“Hey, Richard?” My head snaps to Eddie as he cooly regards the other man. “Will you shut up already?”
Richard blinks at him, finally thrown off. “Watch yourself.”
But Eddie doesn’t flinch. “How about you watch the door on your way out?”
Richard’s face turns a vibrant shade of red, convinced he might unleash his own kind retaliation. But he seems to think better of it—or perhaps the fight was never truly in him—as he turns to retreat down the hall toward the living room.
Silence settles behind him.
Eddie turns back to me, gentle again. “Go on.”
And this is it. No turning back now.
“So,” I begin, my voice already trembling. “I want to explain everything. From the beginning. From when I came back to Nantucket last summer. To the trial, and how Mark got involved, and why June saw us kissing. I’m divorced. I have the papers right here. But the story is…complicated.”
Everyone goes quiet as I procure the documents, my hands shaking.
I dare not look to see whether any of this is new information to Sophie or Trent. As I look out the window, gathering my breath, someone takes the document from my hand, and I stare out toward the beach.
I’ve held my own in court for years. I’ve gone toe to toe with June—quite literally—on multiple occasions. But this? The shame is an altogether different beast.
Sophie is the first to break the silence. “Okay, maybe we should take this outside. I don’t want Richard listening at the door.”
The suggestion is so reasonable that everyone falls into motion wordlessly. Whether she really had concerns about Richard or saw my pathetic attempt to get ahold of myself and threw me a bone, I’d rather not know.
She heads for the back door, Trent trailing behind her with his hands in his pockets. June slips out last, as if determined not to stand beside or behind anyone. Eddie stays near me, quietly patient.
The beach greets us with a playful wind, typical of a budding summer and strong enough to make me pull my hair back with a tie. The sights are familiar enough that I breathe a little easier—having become annoyingly accustomed to Richard’s absurd birthday boat for Mom, still bobbing by the dock.
We naturally form a loose half-circle in the sand. I feel all their eyes on me, but it’s June’s steady, unreadable stare that tightens my throat.
“Okay,” I say, exhaling. “From the beginning.”
I tell them.
Everything.
About the nisi period that hadn’t expired before June’s arrest. I went to Mark because I knew he was the only federal lawyer with enough clout to act quickly. How his father had proposed that their firm would take June’s case pro bono if I remained married to Mark to protect their family’s image.
Sophie inhales sharply at that.
“I agreed,” I admit. “Because I would’ve done anything to help her. And I thought it would be temporary. I thought…once she was cleared, once she was safe, I could refile.”
The rest of the story comes out a bit like vomit.
Nasty, terrible, churning words that I just need out of my system.
Desperate to be rid of it. A beastly tale set to the tune of manipulations, begging, and gaslighting, against the New York skyline and the Boston Family Court.
At times, I wonder if I’m playing the victim too hard and backpedal to take more ownership.
What I say, in actuality, barely registers. A white noise fills my ears that I only really notice as I come to the end, as the words begin to trickle to a stop. The wind might whistle around us, but I can’t hear it.
Sophie’s the first to move, stepping forward and taking my hand. “Mer, come on. This wasn’t your fault. You were put in an impossible position.”
I stare at her. Did she not hear what I said?
“I never had an affair,” I say, my voice cracking. “I never rekindled my marriage with him. I never lied about being with him. But I did lie by not telling you the truth about why things looked the way they did and why I hid for so long, trying to run away from it. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Stop it.” She pulls me into another hug. “I can’t believe you went through all that on your own. You should’ve said something!”
June snorts very softly.
Sophie whirls around on her. “Do you mind? Or do you have the monopoly on trauma now? She did all this for you.”
However, June doesn’t rise to it. She just lifts one eyebrow.
“You don’t need to shout, Soph.” Trent groans.
“I’m not—” Sophie pointedly lowers her voice. “I’m not shouting, Trent. Please don’t do this with me right now.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
I’m almost drawn into the argument when I notice that Eddie has wandered away. His presence throughout my explanation had felt like a blind spot at the corner of my eye; no matter how much I might’ve forced myself to look at him, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
But now, the man had wandered away, further up the beach.
And that won’t do.
It’s instinctive now to look at him. To walk to him. My blinders repositioned in such a fashion that he’s the only thing I can see.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I tell him as I approach.
“Truly. I care about you so much. But I knew how bad it would look. How bad it looks. And I was so ashamed. I didn’t trust Mark not to mess with me again.
I couldn’t… I can’t let him be the thing that ruins my life again. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
He meets my eyes, utterly unreadable.
My heart thuds painfully, but I push through it. “I should’ve told you the truth from the start. I should’ve trusted you with everything. And I’m sorry.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, “Is the divorce final?”
Something twists inside me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s final. Completely. The papers…”
He nods once as I trail off. The evidence is still likely somewhere in the office, long forgotten.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I say.
Then he turns away.
And my breath catches. “Eddie. Wait. Please, don’t?—”
He recoils when my hand brushes against his arm. I snatch it back, cradling it to my chest as he looks back at me.
“I appreciate you telling me everything,” he says, and it’s quiet and measured and painful. “But I need some time to process all of this. It’s a lot.”
“Eddie.” It’s a croak, and it’s sadness, and it’s grief and shame.
“I’m not walking away,” he says gently. “I’m not angry. Just overwhelmed. And if we keep talking right now…I’m afraid we’ll say things we can’t take back.” He starts to move again.
And I follow. This time, though, when I catch his sleeve, I don’t let him flinch away. “Please. I don’t want to lose you. Not again. Not like this.”
His eyes soften in a way that breaks something deep inside me. “You won’t. But I need space. And you need…about ten hours of sleep and a break from throwing yourself in front of a moving train whenever anyone needs saving.”
Tears burn behind my eyes.
“I’ll wait as long as it takes. I will. After everything you’ve given me…” I’d wait sixteen years for you. “I can wait, too.”
“Meredith…” he murmurs.
And then there’s a heartbeat, my fingers tangled in his sleeve, where I can almost imagine he’s capable of reading my thoughts. Heck, they’re probably plain as day, written all over my face. Entwined close enough to feel the warmth of his body, yet far enough that neither of us is satisfied.
Then he steps back, just a little, and my arm drops to my side.
“I’ll call you,” he says. “Soon. I promise.”
He turns toward the path, the only one strong enough to walk away.