Page 28 of Axe Backwards
“I can’t.” I cupped a hand over the rim. “I have to drive.”
She shook her head. “After a confession like that, we have to open another bottle. I’ll have Henri drive you home.”
“Or you could call Noah,” Becca teased.
I stared at her. “We’re just friends.”
Unfazed, she grinned.
“He’s good-looking,” I admitted. “And one of the best people I know. But that part of me is broken.”
It’s as if the anger and betrayal that overtook me during my divorce festered and bubbled violently enough that it killed any ability to be attracted to men.
“You’ll recover.” Becca tipped her glass my way, confident.
“Did you?” I countered.
With a deep sigh, she shook her head. “It’s different. I can feel physical attraction, trust me. I’ve had a couple of flings since I moved here.”
I didn’t know much about her not-quite-love life, but she did, at one time, have a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Noah’s oldest brother Gus. That ended on good terms, and the two of them were still friends. He’d reconnected with his ex-wife, and they’d recently welcomed a baby.
“But love another person?” She lowered her chin and gave her head a shake. “No. I still love Dan. I could never give my heart to someone else, especially while Kali is young. Together, she and I—my in-laws too—keep his memory alive. We celebrate his birthdays and talk about him all the time. He’s a presence in all of our lives.”
“But it makes it impossible for you to move on,” Alice said.
“I don’t want to move on.” She straightened, shoulders back, certain. It broke my heart a little, knowing she’d loved Dan so deeply, only to lose him in such a traumatic way. “When he passed, I wasn’t sure I could function. I could barely get out of bed, let alone go through the motions. But moving here helped. Now my business is thriving, and my little girl and I are doing well.”
“This town gave me my life back,” Alice said.
Becca raised her glass. “Same. It’s allowed me to figure out how to live again. How to be happy. But falling in love? Can’t do it.”
“Then you know where I’m coming from,” I said, wine sloshing over the rim of my glass.
Alice patiently handed me a napkin.
“No. The opposite, in fact. I had the real deal, and I’ll never have it again. You, though? You may have been married, but you’ve never had that real, true, perfect love. It’s out there.You’re afraid of getting hurt again. Eventually, the fear will subside, and you’ll feel things again.”
If only it were as easy as waiting for the bad feelings to pass. The primary substance of my cellular makeup was a jumbled mess of those terrible emotions.
When we were married, I would lie in bed while Graham answered emails on his phone. The frame was a weird slab of wood that had cost a ridiculous amount of money, and our sheets were a bright starched white. Our housekeeper came every Tuesday and was always sure to iron them.
Our bedroom was stark and lonely. All the lighting was recessed and our bed faced massive windows that looked out at the harbor and Logan Airport.
I’d lie there, wearing fancy silk pajamas with a weird waistband that dug into my skin, watching planes fly in.
The runway was a tiny strip that abutted the ocean.
But the lights and signals always did the trick.
Even in the dark, those pilots trusted themselves enough to land, to keep their passengers safe.
I’d stare at the blinking lights of the air traffic control tower, aching from the inside out. Because of the man sitting a foot away from me. The man who would roll over any minute and expect me to fuck him didn’t know a damn thing about me. Nothing that mattered, anyway. And he didn’t want to know me. Or see me.
He ignored me unless I could be of use to him. Sometimes, he’d go entire days without really looking at me or speaking to me.
And the agony of the loneliness that ate at me left me hollowed out.
When he betrayed me, when he cheated, lied, and blamed me for it all, I swore I’d never put myself in that position again.I killed off that lonely, sad, vulnerable woman. I’d never be her again.
