Page 74 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
“I don’t know what to do, Pete.” She was surprised by the watery sound of her voice.
Pete reached out to her with his good arm, and she took his hand. “You’re not losing your mind, Shea. You’ve undergone a lot of stress the last few days, and I know you’re not sleeping.”
“I am,” Shea admitted, “but fitfully.”
“Right. And then there’s us.” Pete let his words hang for a moment before continuing. “It’s a lot. I get it.”
Shea bit the inside of her lip. She felt like she mightcry, for pity’s sake! “This was all for a book. A stupid book. And now—look at you. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’tlikewho I am, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”
There.
She’d said it.
Out loud.
She’d admitted to her weakness. Shea didn’t know who she was anymore, or maybe who she had ever been. She just knewwhat shewanted. A dream. A carefully calculated dream of a bestselling book, a life of traveling and exploring, a husband who doted on her and shared her interests, and...
“I wanted you to think I hung the moon.” Shea whispered her final thought aloud.
Pete’s eyes turned glassy. His grip on her hand tightened.
“Why would I think that?” he asked.
Shea’s gaze shot up to meet his in surprise. There was honest confusion.
He continued, “Why would I make you larger than you are, larger than you’re capable of being? That’s not fair to you. To have expectations of you that you can’tfulfill? Why would I do that?”
That took her aback. Shea tried to catch up to what Pete was saying. “But—”
Pete scowled. “Stupid love songs and stories—they put ideas in people’s heads that are unrealistic. Hang the moon, swim the ocean, go to the ends of the earth. Am I supposed to make you my god? Am I supposed to worship you? How would that bekindto you, Shea? Those expectations would crash and burn really fast.”
Shea blinked. It was all she could do. His words made sense but were so counter, so different from how she had wished him to be. Shehadwished Pete would hang the moon for her, fly to the stars, spin the world on its axis.
Pete’s thumb moved back and forth, caressing her hand. “I chose you, Shea. The good, the bad, the ugly, the day-to-day mundane of you. I chose you because that’s the gift I was given. I just had to say yes to it. And I did. I mean ... God gave me you. No bells. No whistles. Just you.”
Shea couldn’t breathe.
Pete finished, “And I’ve always been content with that.”
29
SHEA AND PETE PULLED TO ASTOPin front of Edna’s house.
“This is it,” Shea stated.
Marnie had invited her there, and Shea was going to take her up on it.
“I’ll just sit here,” Pete said, his arm held secure in the sling. He was sore—that much was obvious—but he’d also been quietly insistent that he accompany her.
“Okay. But if someone throws a brick at the windshield, be sure to duck.” Shea did a double take. “What?”
There was a look on Pete’s face, but it wasn’t appreciation of her dry humor, and she didn’t understand it. He gave her a quick smile. “Nothing.”
She searched his face for a second and then, “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Within moments Shea had knocked on the door, and Edna greeted her with a warm welcome.
“Oh, I thought you’d never come back to see me after that ridiculous windshield incident.” Edna looked over her shoulder. “I see you brought someone with you to watch the car. Goodgirl.” She lifted a frail, age-dotted hand in a wave to Pete, who returned the gesture.
