by Sarah Skye
Even Calder is impressed. When we wrap, he cocks his jaw and smirks. “You’re coming at this with fire, lass. Better than ever, if I daresay.”
I curtsey with one Louboutin in my hand, then pull off the second. Instantly I’m back to looking up in order to meet his gaze. “Appreciate it.”
“And yet you seem so damn sad, I’m tempted to ask what’s wrong.”
Yet again, I wave it away. “Don’t be silly. Just focused.”
He hums and accepts my high five without more questions. “Are you going to our flat now?”
“Yep. Last-minute favor prep and details. Can you believe the wedding is a week away?”
His cheeks color with pure happiness. “Aye, I’m reminded of it daily. But between you and me, I’m glad it got moved up. I’d marry her tomorrow with none of this fuss if it were my choice.”
I swoon and try not to cry. With one hand on my heart, I beam at him. “You’re such a catch, it’s ridiculous.”
He winks. “Ahnoo,” he drawls, and it takes me a minute to decipher that as “I know.”
While I laugh, Calder whips out his keys. “Well, I’m off to the pub to watch the match while you ladies invade my home. Have fun.”
“Pretty sure you’re happy for it too.”
“I never said that,” he replies with a grin before heading to his car.
Calder never fails to get me smiling, but as soon as I’m seated behind the wheel of my Mini, that stone in my chest comes back. I bite my lip and shake my head. This has to stop. I’ve been moping around every free moment I’ve had in the last week. No matter how much I’ve minimized said free moments with work, wedding planning, and worrying about/calling Gram, I can’t shake the hollowness that aches. I’ve never felt this before. My long-term boyfriend, Alan, and I were together for a year and a half. We even lived together, sort of. We had our own places but stayed at mine basically all the time.
Except, of course, for the nights he was off screwing the waitress he’d met at his restaurant. When I found that out, his shit got dumped in the parking lot and my locks got changed before he could even try to explain. That had hurt, had taken a few pints of ice cream and girl time with Lily to get through.
But this emptiness, this stone sitting on my chest that won’t go away, this feeling that I’ve lost something—this is new. I can smell him. How? It’s like he’s imprinted on my soul. It’s like I memorized how he tastes, what his fingers feel like on my body, the sound of his voice. I can’t even think of his name without wanting to sob.
I freaking hate it. Mostly because I’m always a heartbeat away from speeding to his condo and begging him to figure out how we can possibly make this work. But I know that’s silly, that it’s impossible, that I’ll get past it. I hope. So I don’t do it. I just keep going.
I call Gram to distract me on the ten-minute drive. “How are you, Gram?” My voice is force-cheerful when she picks up.
She hums. “As well as I was this morning, Sugar Pea. How are you?”
“Good! Busy.”
Gram pauses. “Actually, Morgan, I’ve been a bit tired today. Maybe you could come to check up on me tomorrow morning?”
My blood runs cold. “I can come right—”
“Tomorrow morning, hon. See you then. I love you to the moon and back,” she says gently before ending the call.
Great, now I’m worried about Gram. At least it’ll take your mind off this damn ache.
Lily and Harmony are sitting on the living room floor with tissue paper and gift bags strewn everywhere. A bottle of prosecco is on the table beside Chinese takeout. I skip the food, pour a small glass, and plop down to help stuff bags with water bottles and welcome notes and goodies. The girls are talking about wedding day plans. Harmony is suggesting Lily pick her nail polish, buy it, and take it to the manicurist.
“That way, if you chip the day of, you can easily fix it,” she says.
Lily’s eyes widen. “That’s brilliant. Thank you!”
Harmony grins. “I’m so excited for you! Weddings are fun.” She rolls her blue eyes and laughs. “But I think I’ll elope if I ever actually find the right guy.”
They laugh, so I smile too, painfully aware of what’s unsaid here: she’s already planned a wedding. It just fell through at the last minute because of Marco.
Oh, Marco. My heart aches at the thought of his name—hence why I try not to think it. Even thinking about his past self makes me long for what we shared.
Shake it off, girl. I reach for another water bottle and get a little rhythm going. I set up four bags at a time, grab four bottles, four notecards, four sampler boxes of Walkers' shortbread, and four mini bottles of sweet chili sauce. A square combination of info, basic needs, and Lily and Calder’s heritage, all in one welcome bag. Plop, plop, plop, plop. Then four bows, and done.
I do this three times before I realize the girls are now silent. With a bow pinched in my fingers, I glance up to find them staring.
“Morg? You okay?” Harmony asks gently, seemingly for both of them.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’ve said, like, zero words since you got here, hun.”
Lily nods, and I drop the bow. “Shit, I’m sorry. I was just listening to you guys. Sorry.” I offer a sheepish grin. “I don’t know anything about wedding planning. Figured I should let the experts speak.”
They flash worried smiles. “You’ve barely texted lately,” Lily says, then holds up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong: I am so not mad. But I am a little worried about you.”
My smile feels stretched and thin. “Not at all. Everything is great. Sorry, it’s just, you know.”
I trail off, but no one speaks. The silence gets weird.
Lily clears her throat. “Um, I don’t think I do know? What’s up?”
“Nothing! Like I said, I’m no wedding expert. I’m just here to do whatever I can to make your day perfect, Lil. I’d do anything for you.”
My voice cracks on that last sentence. She hears it, judging by the way her brows shoot up.
I swallow hard and shake my head. “PMS. Super hormonal. Ignore me.”
“We definitely won’t do that,” Lily insists, then hops up and comes to wrap me in a hug. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m here for you, for whatever you need.”
You think you mean that. The thought is so bitter, it’s hard to swallow for a second. I know it’s my own projection, that Lily truly does think she means that because she can’t imagine how horrible I’ve been, but that’s not her fault.
I hug her back. “Thanks,” I choke.
Harmony tops off my prosecco. “Wet your whistle, girl. We’ll get you an Uber if you need.”
“No, you can just sleep over,” Lily squeals.
For once, that sounds like a good plan.
I do crash on Lily and Calder’s couch, but I’m not hungover when I sit upright at seven the next morning, roll into my shoes, and zoom out to Gram’s.
The house smells like coffee and scrambled eggs when I knock on her door. It’s the familiarity I’ve been aching for all week, and my eyes burn with tears of relief. But I shove that aside and peer at her after she’s folded me into a hug.
“You’ve been tired?”
Her lip curls in what looks suspiciously like a smirk. “No, baby. I’m just fine. I just wanted to get you out here.”
My brows fly up. “Why? You could’ve just said.”
“I did say. On Wednesday, the first time you called that day. You said you were too busy. But then you called two more times.”
“Oh.”
She smirks again. “So, I thought you should come have some breakfast. That way you can tell me what’s going on that has you calling me like you have nothing better to do.”
I follow her through the living room. A glance at the couch finds it completely normal—no folded sheets and pillow on the end like when Marco was staying here. It only makes my eyes burn again. “Hold on, Gram,” I blurt, then dart down the hall to grab
my old comforter. I wrap it around me like a robe and shuffle to the kitchen. Gram’s clearly surprised, but she doesn’t comment as she pours me coffee and plates some eggs.
“So. Tell your gram what’s got you so sad.”
“Sad?”
“Sad. It’s written all over you.”
It’s in my aura. A watery smile flickers. Gram has a different language for it, but we see the world the same.
I put my head in my hands and sniffle. “It’s about a boy.”
“No, it’s about Marco.”
My head jerks up. My mouth opens and closes like a fish, but no words come.
Gram rolls her blue eyes. “Honey, please. I’m old, not blind. Are you two fighting—erm, having an argument? You fight all the time, but that’s just your way.” She chuckles to herself.
My face flames. I’m sure I’m bright red. “You… you… how did you…”
But those questions are irrelevant, so instead I drop them and bang my head on the table. “No, Gram. Not fighting or arguing. We’re over.”
She doesn’t speak.
“We should’ve never begun. I’m a horrible person. A terrible friend. It’s just... I know he’s different. Changed. I can see who he is now and where he’s been to get there. None of it makes it okay. None of it means we could ever work out. I had to stop it, to stop us. I have to get over him. I can’t fall in love with my best friends’ ex.” I emphasize the plural and beat my fist on the table by my head.
“Honey.”
“Hmm?”
“You already did.”
My hand falls to my lap. One breath, then another…
And then I burst into the ugliest ugly-cry I may have ever had. I hug the blanket tight, slither to the floor, and put my head in my Gram’s lap. She strokes my hair and lets me be a baby until I’m quiet, then leads me to my room and lets me sleep.
When I wake, I put on my game face again, promise her I’ll call, and go back to life. There is only forward. There is no looking back.
But that goddamn stone is still there. I just can’t let it break me.
27
MARCO
My heart is lodged in my throat when I return Nina’s phone call. Kind of a nice change from feeling like it’s been knifed to shreds. Still though. As I count the rings while I wait for Nina to answer, anxiety takes hold.
What the hell am I going to say to her? This is technically a business call, since she left a message asking me for a status update on the work I’m doing for her and her friends who were approached by Rick Heyden and his law firm. But what if she asks about Morgan? Did she even know we were together? I’m sure she suspected. Should I tell her we broke up? Or did Morgan already tell her? Will she be able to tell in my voice that I’m a shell of a human being, barely able to function most days because losing her granddaughter was the single worst thing that’s ever happened to me?
She picks up and sings a cheery, “Hi, Marco! How are you, honey?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I wince at how phony my tone sounds.
“Are you on your way over then?”
“Oh, um. No, sorry, I uh… I thought it would be easier if I just called.”
There’s a pause on her end of the line before she chuckles.
“I guess I’m just so used to you visiting. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Yeah, um… I’m sorry about that. Things have just been busy.” I clear my throat, annoyed at how off I sound.
“Are you okay? You sound like something’s bothering you.”
If only you knew.
I contemplate feeding her a nonsense lie about feeling under the weather or being busy with all this work, but I stop myself. Nina has always been honest with me. I should be honest with her too.
“Actually, Nina. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to come see you.”
“And why’s that?”
I shoot out a breath, psyching myself up for what I’m about to say. “I’m not sure if you knew, but Morgan and I were seeing each other for a while. Now we’re not. And I don’t want to make things awkward by coming over to your place.”
There’s another short pause on her end before she makes a “pssh” noise, which has me stuttering. That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.
“Come over, Marco. I made a fresh batch of your grandma’s banana pudding and there’s no way I can eat it all by myself.”
“But—”
She hangs up before I can even protest. After a minute of sitting at the desk in my home office, I grab my keys and go.
When I arrive, she opens the door before I can even raise my hand to knock. The giant smile she greets me with takes the edge off that pain in my chest.
After she hugs me, she cups my face in her hands, like she’s studying my expression. “You look tired. And pale.”
I swallow. “I haven’t really been sleeping much. Or doing much. Or leaving my place.”
She tsks as she releases me, then leads me to the kitchen and gestures for me to sit down at the table.
“I typed up a summary of what I’ve been working on.” I hold a stack of papers. “I made copies for you to give to Bev too if you’d like.”
“Fine, fine. Just set it on the table. We don’t need to talk about that right now though.”
As she dishes up the banana pudding, she glances over at me. “So you and MoMo, huh?”
My cheeks heat as I stare at the linoleum tabletop. “Yeah.”
When I look back over at her, she’s shaking her head with a slight smile on her face. “I knew it.”
I let out a small chuckle that makes me feel weirdly light. And then I realize that’s because it’s been more than a week since I laughed or smiled.
She walks over, sets a giant bowl of banana pudding in front of me and takes the chair across from me.
“But it’s over now, so…”
She squints at me as she chews. “She’s heartbroken over losing you, Marco.”
I drop my spoon. “What?”
Nina nods, a sad look in her gray-blue eyes.
I grab the spoon and tug my other hand through my hair. “But she’s the one who ended it. I mean, I get why. Being with me would have cost her her friends, and I would never ask her to give them up.”
A sad smile tugs at Nina’s lips. “Of course you wouldn’t. But here’s the thing about my MoMo. Her friends mean the world to her because other than me, they’re all she’s got. And she’ll put herself and her needs on the backburner for the sake of the people she loves. She always has.”
I nod and realize I’m eating the banana pudding without tasting it. “I know. That’s one of the things I love about her. How much she cares about everyone in her life, how she’ll drop everything if any of you needed anything. I’ve never met anyone so good. So kind.”
Nina’s gaze softens as she looks at me. For a minute, we eat in silence.
“She’s in love with you,” Nina says out of the blue.
My spoon falls to the floor. Again. I jerk my head up at her. “What? Wait, how do you know that? Like, she said those words? ‘I love Marco’?”
Nina scrunches her lips like she’s trying not to smile. Then she sets her spoon down and her expression sobers slightly.
“She didn’t have to say the words. It’s in the way she talked about you. The look on her face. The way she cried when she told me how much she missed you. One hundred percent love.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t say a word.
Nina reaches over to pat my hand. “She’s in love with you, honey. It’s as clear as day. She’s just having a hard time figuring out how she can make it all work. You, her friends, all that.”
I shake my head, dazed. “I honestly don’t see how it can. My exes—my exes who I treated horribly—are her best friends. There’s no way this can have a happy ending.”
Nina tilts her head. Her stare turns focused. “Honey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that there’s almost always
a way to make things work when you love someone. No, it’s not easy—it’s tough as heck. Yeah, it can take a while to figure out. But if you’re patient and if you refuse to give up on one another, you’ll find a way.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say offhandedly as I take a long gulp of water.
“Did you know that my late husband, Morgan’s grandpa, was married before me?”
I shake my head.
“Well, he was. To my cousin.”
My eyes bulge out of my head for a solid two seconds before I can rein in my expression. “Wow. That’s…”
“Insane? I tell you, it was something out of a soap opera.” She chuckles. “I certainly didn’t plan on falling for my cousin’s ex-husband. I met him only once before they got married. I barely knew him. They got together quite young, right out of high school. Then he joined the service and when he came back a year later, they were kaput. I guess feelings changed. I suppose they’re bound to when you’re that young. You do some serious growing up at that stage in life. They were barely nineteen. Goodness.”
She sighs and glances out the nearby window before looking back at me. “A handful of years after they divorced, I ran into him at the grocery store. It was like I was talking to a whole new person. He wasn’t the young boy I barely remembered meeting when I was a teenager. He was a grown man, full of charm and confidence. And we hit it off instantly.”
She looks off to the side and smiles to herself, clearly recalling a happy memory. “We got married a couple years after that. My family was not happy. At all. Some of them even refused to come to the wedding.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Nina shrugs. “It hurt at the time, but eventually most of them came around. Once they saw how happy we were together, they realized we were the real deal.”
“Was your cousin mad?” I can’t help but fixate on that part. As uncomfortable as mine and Morgan’s situation is, this sounds a billion times more awkward.
“Oh yeah. Harriet was livid with me. And I can see why she was so hurt at first. It’s a weird situation, seeing someone in your family get together with your ex-husband. But we talked it out. A lot. It took almost a year of arguing off and on between long, drawn-out conversations. But we finally got there. I found out that what hurt her most was that I didn’t come to her right away and talk to her about it when things got serious between us. When I apologized for that, we were good again.”
