“Yes, we were.”
“Look, Tessa, I don’t know why he said what he did, but I’m sorry.” Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe what I am. “Ashley should have never—”
“Kids hear what they want. I’m sure that’s all it was,” she quickly interrupts.
“Sure, but still, he never needed to know any of that. That’s—”
“Our pictures are in the yearbook. They can find them in the library. Our name is on the plaques with pictures of homecoming kings and queens. It’s not like it’s top-secret stuff, Lucas. No big deal.”
“Itisa big deal. I don’t remember seeing, ‘Oh her. He fucked her and knocked her up—’”
“Lucas—”
“No, dammit. I loved you. You loved me. That’s not why we lived together, built a home together. That’s—”
“Harper knows.”
“About us?”
“About the miscarriage. I told her when she lost her child. It’s not the same, but I wanted her to know. I hope that doesn’t upset you.”
It does upset me that it still hurts her. I think about it often but know that, if I dwell on it, that feelings would be dredged up that didn’t need to be. Things I couldn’t change, things that distracted me from what I have now. Regardless of how messed up the past was, I still had Tessa’s friendship and two beautiful kids. Ones I never thought I deserved.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
I must have been quiet too long.
“No, Tessa, that’s not what I was thinking.”
I look at our still linked hands, and she does, too.
“Sorry about that.” She pulls her hand back.
“No way, Tessa. Don’t be sorry.” I kiss her hand then let go. “We should probably get out of here and get you home.”
“Yeah.”
As I pull out onto the road, she reaches back over and holds my hand. “You’re a good friend, Lucas.”
I give her hand a squeeze and drive into the darkness, hoping that, someday soon, I can drive her back into the light.
TWELVE
LAKE WATCH
Ilook at my reflection as I stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, getting ready for Harper and Maddox’s wedding. Leaning in, I see a few lines beside my eyes that I hadn’t noticed before and a few gray hairs. They’re also new. I grab the tweezers and pull them out promptly, because they have no business there.
Logan walks in, fussing with his tie. “Dad, I can’t get this.”
“Come here. Okay, show me how you’re doing it.”
Logan starts the process.
“You only crossed once. You have to do it twice. Try again.”
He tries and succeeds, but it’s too short.
“I got it.”