Page 22 of Axe Backwards
Sure, he was easy on the eyes and a lot of fun to hang out with, but I didn’t have it in me to experience attraction or desire. Not anymore. Those sensations had died with Graham’s betrayal and my divorce.
And while I was annoyed at the invasive questions and town gossip, it beat the hell out of being asked when I was going to have a baby. Those questions and comments killed me every single time. I was always amazed by how even casual acquaintances felt entitled to information about my fucking uterus.
I gave her a sweet smile. With a little huff, Mrs. Dupont went back to her table. Probably to spread more gossip. Once she’d settled in and peeked over her shoulder at us, we grabbed our snacks and headed to the car.
On the drive to the trail, we played “We Didn’t Start the Fire” on repeat. It was Tess’s favorite song. She danced in her car seat, babbling along and rocking out. The third time through, I pulled out my phone and started googling the historical references Noah and I didn’t understand. Turns out I didn’t know all that much about the Cold War.
After zipping Tess into her puffy coat and pulling a hat with pink cat ears over her head, Noah put her in a hiking backpack. The moment she was settled on his back, she kicked her heels and screeched a happy sound.
The forest around us was dense, and the light dappled as it broke through the trees here and there.
I’d never get tired of this. The beauty and grandeur of Maine. The ability to exist in the wilderness. No cars, no noise, no chaos.
The peaceful soundtrack created by the crunching of our boots on the trail, the rushing of the water ahead, and the chirping of the birds.
Though it was technically spring, a sunny forty-degree day like this was about as good as it got this time of year, so I relished every moment I could.
There was no better place to stretch my legs and clear my head. Alexandra’s wedding was two weeks away, and the lump in my throat grew every time I thought about it. By now, it was a wonder I hadn’t choked to death on it.
At the advice of Aunt Lou, I’d bought a really gorgeous dress. It was deep purple and dipped low in the back. When I tried it on, I’d felt like a tall, glamorous supermodel rather than a thirty-five-year-old pear-shaped woman who was barely five-six.
Despite the gorgeous armor I’d don and the fashion therapy session, suffocating dread filled me each time I imagined watching Alexandra, with her baby bump and white dress, soaking in the attention at her big white wedding while my family made a fuss over Graham.
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away and focused on the path and the little girl who was babbling and clapping as birds flew overhead.
My legs burned already. I relished the sensation. This was good. Nature and exercise. This was part of the reason I’d moved back to Maine.
We stopped for water a couple of times, and within an hour, we had reached the base of the falls. Massive rock formations created a small break and tide pools swirling with icy cold water.
Up ahead, the falls roared, the water raging down the stark granite, all power and fury.
We settled on a large flat rock next to a small pool, far from the danger of the falls. Noah took Tess out of her carrier and set her on the ground, where she immediately picked up a rock and inspected it. She set it down and found another.
Between sips of water, Noah shook his head. “I spent so many years swearing I didn’t miss Maine.”
“Same. I vowed I’d be a city girl for life, but when my life went sideways, I hustled right back up here. It didn’t take long once I was back to realize that’s what I am. A Mainer.”
A low chuckle rumbled out of him. “It suits you.”
We broke out our picnic, Tess delighting in the frosted maple scone Noah set on a camping plate for her. She gummed it with a grin, then broke off pieces for her rock friends, who she had arranged in a circle where she sat.
“You gonna tell me why you seem so upset?” he asked gently.
Inhaling deeply, I watched the falls. Could I?
“No pressure.”
Normally I would change the subject. I’d been taught at a young age that being ruled by emotions was bad. That I should deflect and deny. Make pleasant small talk and keep my feelings to myself.
But I was tied up in knots, and they were making it impossible to enjoy this beautiful day.
Noah and I had been sharing meals and sleeping in the same bed for the last week. At different times, of course, but still.
We were friends. Good friends.
“My youngest sister is getting married in two weeks.”
He sat patiently, head tilted, waiting for me to elaborate.
