1 Marley #2
Of course Marley had seen what was going on in the Carolinas.
The whole freaking world had seen what was going on.
It was utter devastation. People in boats floating through their former neighborhoods.
Dogs left behind on roofs. Grandmas getting airlifted to safety.
And of course the looting. So much looting.
But Lincoln swore all the National Weather Service models had Hurricane Sarah turning toward land and dying over Virginia.
By the time it got up to the tristate, it would be nothing but a big rainstorm, and it would be mostly inland.
Looking out the window at the clear blue sky now, Marley found it hard to imagine people were literally struggling against the elements just a few hundred miles away.
The models could be wrong. As they often were. But was anyone going to tell Lincoln Foster that? Not a chance. He had a weeklong vacation to host. A huge party to throw tonight. Lincoln Foster did not bow to Mother Nature. Mother Nature would bow to him. She sighed and texted back.
Lincoln says it’ll be safer on the Island.
Rainn says there’s a 35 percent chance the hamptons get a direct hit.
Who the Eff is Rainn?
Rainn storms! That influencer i follow. He’s always right!
A link followed, and against her better judgment, Marley clicked it. It took her to a video of a rotund man with light-brown skin and three nose rings, wearing a yellow rain slicker and hat and standing in front of an elaborate radar screen.
“Mainstream media is lying to you! They don’t want all them rich folks to stay home and not bring their green to the island this weekend. They’re more worried about heirloom-tomato sales than they are about your safety! Listen to me, people! Stay. Home!”
His eyes went wide and wild as he did a motion that was not unlike jazz hands right at the camera. After a pause he added, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe.”
And then his handle flashed across the screen with a lightning-and-thunder effect.
Marley had to take a minute to compose herself before responding. She wrote back:
You need to get off the internet
There was a longish pause. Then Suzy finally texted:
Ok then. I Guess I’ll see you when I see you.
And even though Marley knew she’d pissed off her friend, she blithely texted back:
Safe Travels!
The driver’s side door popped open, letting in the sweet, cut-grass-scented air of the outside world. Marshall plugged his phone in and let out a world-weary sigh.
Normally Marley would ask if everything was all right, but today she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead she pointedly stared straight ahead. He would not get the satisfaction of her sympathy.
How could he do this to her? Just turn his back on everything they’d been talking about and hoping for since they’d gotten engaged?
The fact that he refused to even discuss it was what made it so unbearable.
His righteous insistence that giving up was the right thing to do.
That she’d see it his way in the long run.
So what if they’d come close to being the chosen couple three times now?
So what if the last time she’d actually held the baby girl in her arms for ten minutes before her birth mother had changed her mind and DCF had whisked the baby away?
So what if Marley had been in such a deep depression for two weeks after that she hadn’t even been able to rouse herself enough to take a shower?
None of this meant she was going to give up on her dream of becoming a mother.
Great. Her eyes were welling up again.
I’m not going to change my mind, he’d said last night. This is what’s best for both of us.
“You ready for this?” Marshall asked, putting the car in gear.
Her jaw clenched when his gaze flicked to her ginger ale bottle.
He fished a granola bar out of the center console and held it out to her.
When she didn’t take it, he placed it between her legs on the seat.
She took a deep breath, clenching her hands into fists to keep from picking up the snack and smacking him with it.
“Let’s just go.” She slipped her sunglasses on, slumped down, and turned to stare out the passenger-side window.
“It’s only a week. And we can’t change the past. All we can do is—”
“Move forward. I know,” she snapped. They’d talked about this.
About whether or not to go when Lily wasn’t going to be there.
When Lily was two weeks into her third rehab stint.
When she would have to sit there in her cream-colored safe room (cords and shoelaces and sharp objects removed), knowing they were all enjoying her favorite week of the year without her.
They’d talked about it a lot. And the decision had been made.
She reached forward and cranked up the AC. “So let’s get it over with.”
“That’s the spirit,” he replied, not unkindly.
Which just pissed her off more. She wanted him to be obnoxious to her so she could bite back.
She wanted to fight and claw and spit until he heard her.
It was honestly all she could do to keep from grabbing the back of his head and slamming him forward into the steering wheel.
All she wanted was what she’d always envisioned for herself.
Their little family. One kid. Was that too much to ask?
She and her sister had been adopted by their aunt and uncle when their parents had been killed in a car accident.
Marley had been two years old and Justine four.
Ever since she’d been old enough to understand how selfless that act had been, how much love they’d brought into her and Justine’s lives, she had wanted to do the same for another child.
Just one. She didn’t need a pair of siblings.
She wasn’t greedy. She wouldn’t ask for more. Her eyes prickled with new tears.
Deep breaths, Marley. Deep breaths.
He turned on his favorite stuck-in-traffic playlist, and they were off.