“Thank you for telling me.” Her voice cracked. “I completely understand.”
“Sarah.” He turned to her, put his arms around her and drew her down so they were lying together under the quilt, fresh Maine air cooling their faces, waves gurgling and tumbling down under the cliff.
She burrowed against him, trying to relax, forcing her breathing as steady as she could manage, and feeling as if someone had just hollowed her out with a giant drill.
“I’ll miss you, Sarah.”
“Stop.” She spoke sharply then made herself giggle as if it was all a big joke.
Her panic rose. This was no joke. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t lie next to him anymore and pretend. She was going to cry, she was going to scream, she was going to throw up. This pain, this dread, it was all her fault.
“You’ll be busy, Joe, you’ll have a new city to get to know, a new...everything.” A smiling blonde with Joe’s babies, Joe’s arm around her, Joe’s mouth on hers. Joe, the man she would depend on for love, support, friendship—everything Sarah had been greedily lapping up for the last near-decade, giving nothing in return.
She threw off the quilt and stood. Nausea threatened. She ran from him, behind a clump of alders and fell to her knees, breathing deeply.
“Sarah! What happened? What’s the matter?” He spoke sharply from worry. He’d cared about her so deeply for so long and she’d taken it all for granted.
The cool air slowly settled her stomach. She collapsed back onto her bottom on the mossy ground.
“Just...too much beer. I thought I was going to lose it. I’m fine. Really.”
“Sure?”
“I should get to bed.” Where she could fall apart in earnest. “Thanks for telling me your news. And congratulations, Joe. I’m proud of you.”
“I’ll walk you to the house.”
Of course he would. If she’d thrown up he would have stood behind her and stroked her back, held her hair out of the way. He’d do that for his wife, for his kids, always steady, always reliable.
A real man.
She let him help her up, waited while he gathered the quilts, let him take her arm and guide her back, lighting the way with her flashlight.
Inside the house, a few who’d deserted the beach fire had built another one in the fireplace, sipping something from steaming mugs and chatting or reading.
At her bedroom door, Sarah smiled gratefully at Joe and gave him a quick hug, sickened by the irony of having realized how much he meant to her now that she was losing him. What a cliché. She felt utterly stupid and defeated.
In her room alone, she changed into her pajamas, used the bathroom and crawled into bed, not even trying to sleep, just letting the misery and pain wash over her, quietly bearing it, knowing this was what she deserved.
She could try to stop him. She could plead with him, beg him to stay, promise things would be different. But she wouldn’t. She had no right to sabotage his happiness. And she was too confused right now to be sure of what she could offer him, and what she could realistically promise.
Sarah groaned and pulled the covers over her head. This maturity stuff was the absolute freaking pits. She wanted to cry, but if she cried she’d look like hell for her brother’s wedding, and worry everyone, so she couldn’t even do that.
Hours later, or not, she had no idea how long, Addie came in. Sarah pretended to be asleep, turned toward the wall, clutching the covers under her chin, breathing slowly and a little too loudly. She couldn’t talk to anyone, even though Addie might need an ear or a shoulder. She and Derek must have had a hell of a morning and afternoon. They’d shown up just as the rehearsal dinner started, looking blissfully stunned. Sarah would ask tomorrow, listen tomorrow. Do what she could to advise. Not right now. She hadn’t become that selfless.
Hours later—or not, she still had no idea how long—Addie’s breathing slipped into its own slow, regular pattern, only Addie probably had no reason to fake being asleep. Sarah lay still awhile longer then threw off the covers. This was torture. She couldn’t lie here anymore or she’d go stark raving nuts.
Tiptoeing across the pine floor, she unlatched the door as quietly as she could and shut it behind her, hoping she hadn’t disturbed Addie.