“I don’t want to see the same thing happen to Susan,” Mercy said. “Whatever you’ve told her, at least someone can benefit from my mistake.”
“Do you really think it was a mistake?” Susan’s question startled Andrew.
Mercy sighed. “No. It hurt, and I hated everything that came after, but I wouldn’t do it differently.”
“He never lied to you.”
“No.” Mercy shook her head. “But he did know better.”
“We’ve established that. Here’s the thing—I’m not you.” Susan spoke with a simple kindness that defied the situation. “I’d like to think I’m walking into this eyes wide open. Maybe that’s not true. It could be that a month or more down the line, Andrew and I realize this isn’t working. But I don’t expect that. Either way, you got to live your life. Allow me the same.”
Andrew let go of Susan’s hand, to step around the kitchen counter and approach Mercy. “I’m sorry I hurt you back then. I would have done anything to take that back and make things right between us. That’s still pretty much true now, with one exception. If you make me choose you or Susan… You’re my best friend, but I love her completely.”
Mercy’s laugh caught him off-guard.
“What?” he asked.
“The day you texted me, after my honeymoon, and I picked Susan up from your hotel, I asked her not to make me choose between the two of you. I didn’t expect to have it turned back on me.”
“How’s it feel?” Susan teased.
Some of the tension in the room evaporated. Mercy studied Susan and then Andrew. “You look really happy. Like, genuinely.”
“We are, but I’ll be happier if you don’t have any complaints about the situation. They won’t change anything, but I’d rather not lose you.” Andrew held his arms open.
Mercy hugged him tight. “Me too. But”—she hovered her mouth near his ear—“I’ll still skin you alive if you make my baby sister cry.”
“No, you won’t.” Susan’s voice was firm. “I can take care of that myself.”
Andrew backed up, mock horror on his face. “Whoa. No one’s making me-skin rugs.”
Susan and Mercy laughed. Andrew looked between them. For the first time since Mercy left him in Brazil, he didn’t see any obstacles to repairing their friendship.
He studied Susan.
Yup. This was the direction he wanted his life to go.
* * * *
Four days later, Andrew and Susan stopped at a hotel in Indianapolis. Her father never got back to her, after she conveyed her message to Mercy. In a way, it stung, but for the most part, Susan wasn’t surprised.
The drive up from Atlanta was gorgeous. She snapped pictures the entire way. Andrew wanted to know why; she’d seen large parts of this trip before.
This was different. It felt is if she was actually living it, instead of flying into a city, visiting the hot-spots, then leaving—all on a fixed schedule.
He tossed their bags next to the bed, and she moved to take a picture of him with her phone.
“No.” He grabbed her wrist.
She pouted and twisted out of his grip, then snapped a shot anyway.
He snatched the camera. “My turn.” A heavy current ran through his teasing.
“I don’t need pictures of myself.” She laughed and grabbed for the device, but he backed away.
“These, you’ll want. Or I want them.” His meaning sank in, and a tingle raced over her skin.
“And so will everyone else?” she asked playfully.