“Hey,” Chris returned as their hug broke. He stepped back to guide her into the place she knew better than her own hand. “How was the drive?”
Amanda could hardly answer. Her throat felt tight and strange. Behind Chris, she saw a number of boxes, already packaged up and complete with labels, like AMANDA’S BOOKS, AMANDA’S CLOTHES, AMANDA’S KITCHEN STUFF.
“Wow, Chris. You already have my boxes packed,” she said, feeling a little stunned by the notion.
Chris gave a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to have to do all of it after you drove so far. It’s um. Well. It was the least I could do.”
There was silence for a moment. Amanda walked toward the first pile of boxes and, for the first time, felt the enormous undertaking of moving all this, away from the place she’d wanted to spend her life. Some of it would go to her dad’s place, stocked away in her old bedroom, while the rest, she would bring with her to Martha’s Vineyard. How strange, stupid and bizarre.
“Can I, um. Get you a glass of wine?” Chris asked.
Amanda nodded without thinking. “Yes. I would like that.”
When Amanda and Chris had first moved into the apartment, their furniture had been three days late, lodged away in some warehouse somewhere. For those days, they had laughed and drank on the floor of the living room, both amazed that they’d built this life for themselves.
For this reason, Amanda dropped down on the ground, crossed her legs, and leaned back against the couch. Chris laughed. It was a sound Amanda hadn’t heard in quite some time (maybe not for a year or more, since he’d taken on so much more at work). He joined her with two glasses of wine and then placed the bottle beside them. When his eyes met hers, Amanda’s heart dropped into her stomach.
How the heck could they even begin to discuss what had happened?
“Oh. This Cabernet. I always liked it,” Amanda commented instead, inspecting the bottle.
“I know. I got it from that wine shop you like.”
“Right, the lady with that little poodle.”
“The poodle recently died, unfortunately.”
“Oh.” Amanda studied her glass of wine. Again, she wanted to burst into tears.
“I heard you took some time off of school?” Chris said, palming the back of his neck.
“Not really. I’m just doing online classes for now and helping my mom set up her law office,” Amanda said. “It’s kind of been a whirlwind, but we already have a few clients, and well. Yeah. We’re supposed to look at offices next week.”
“Wow.” Chris shook his head tentatively.
“What?”
“It’s just. Well. You’ve already made a life for yourself, it seems like.”
Mostly cleaning, cooking, and caring for Grandpa Wes. Mostly crying about you. Mostly wondering why you left me.
“It’s just the classic Amanda Harris way, I guess. I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Chris said.
Amanda wanted to laugh, but she knew the laugh would sound unkind, and she didn’t want to be angry. Not now.
“How is work?” Amanda asked, finally. She shifted against the couch and brought her elbow up over the side. Her eyes flitted across the muscles of his t-shirt, with the memory of what she’d once known so well.
“It’s um. Well. Actually.” Chris shook his head, seemingly exasperated. “I actually just put in my two weeks’ notice.”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Chris! What?” Her first reaction revolved around ideas like That promotion was everything you wanted! It was going to set us up for the perfect life! How could you mess this up?
Chris sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t explain much of it—any of this, Amanda.” He bit his lower lip softly and then proceeded. “I don’t think I’ve been straight-forward about what I’ve wanted for a really long time, and I really regret that. I owe you the biggest apology. I don’t think I can ever, ever apologize enough for what I did to you, Amanda. I. Am. So. Sorry.”
Amanda knew, in the bottom of her heart, that he meant it.
She also wasn’t fully sure she could forgive him. Maybe never.
“I think you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, Amanda,” Chris continued. His eyes filled with tears. “Every night, I told myself how lucky I was that you wanted to build this life with me. You wanted to be my wife and have my children. You wanted to put up with me — me and all my stupidities and the fact that I really insisted we get this couch, which you were right, is totally the wrong color for the room.”
Oh, great. Now, Amanda started to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She remembered that argument and weirdly wanted to return to it, if only to return to the feeling of being in love, of knowing what that truly felt like, of being in a team with Chris.
“But there is something about my life that doesn’t add up for me right now,” Chris said. He bowed his head low and shook it. “The wedding, the promotion, and all those lists you drew up?”
The stupid lists.
“It was so much pressure. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the things I still wanted to do. Things like travel to Australia or study a foreign language. Things like I don’t know—move to California for a while. I don’t know.”
Amanda marveled at his words. She hadn’t heard Chris say anything about any of it. Not Australia. Not California. Nothing.
“Why didn’t you say something?” she whispered.
Chris’s eyes told her everything she needed to know.
She just didn’t fit in those plans.
And, if she was fully honest with herself, she didn’t want to fit in those plans. She had to build a life of her own.
After a glass of wine, she and Chris loaded the boxes into Scott’s truck. They did it mostly in silence but made occasional jokes, which seemed even funnier than they should have since the emotion of it all was so intense. When they’d finally finished, Amanda watched Chris latch ropes over the top of the boxes to ensure they stayed down tight.
“You’ll be safe out on the road in this big truck?” he asked. His voice was the same one he’d used when they’d been a couple, the same voice she’d imagined teaching their sons and daughters how to ride a bike.
“Yes. I’m only going to my dad’s place,” Amanda told him.
“That’s what I thought,” Chris said. “But still.”
They hugged a final time. It was somber, sincere, and then it was over.
“You’re going to do great things, Amanda Harris,” Chris told her softly as the hug broke.
Amanda slipped into the truck and waited until Chris returned to the apartment and pressed the door closed. She expected herself to cry. She even closed her eyes and waited for it. Although there was immense pressure on her chest, the tears didn’t come. She wondered what that meant. Maybe it didn’t have to mean anything.
Before she drove away, Amanda lifted her phone, found Chris’s contact and hovered over it for a moment.
When he’d given her his number, she’d felt it: an entire eternity stretched out before them. She’d been so young, yet so sure of herself and of him.
Now, she wasn’t sure of anything.
And with the flick of her finger, she deleted his number.
He was a part of her past, now.
Chapter Twenty
Lola blinked up at Susan from the corner of the little cabin. Paint dripped down her cheeks, coated her eyelashes, and stained her t-shirt. She shook her arms out on either side of her and opened her mouth to scream. “Oh. My. Gosh!”
Susan, who’d been busy painting the far wall with Christine, dropped her paintbrush and burst into laughter. “Lorraine! What did you do to yourself?”
“I dropped the stupid paintbrush!” Lola cried. She wrung out her hands and then reached for a nearby towel. “I don’t even know what to do. It’s all in my hair, and ugh. I probably look disgusting.”
Christine gasped, clutched her stomach, and continued to shake with laughter.
“Christine! Have a little sympa
thy, okay?” Lola demanded as she pulled the towel back and glared.
“I’m sorry—” Christine cried. “You just look so—”
Lola grunted and whipped back toward the bathroom. Susan and Christine exchanged glances, placed their hands over their mouths, and struggled to get through the last of the laughter in quiet.
Under her breath, Christine said, “I’m glad she at least decided to give us a show. I’m getting so bored of this wall.”
“We’re almost done,” Susan declared. “At least, I am. I have to go check on these offices downtown.”
Christine’s smile was enormous. “I can’t believe you arranged those on the very day we promised Little Lola we would help her paint.”
“It wasn’t on purpose, Christine!”
“Sure. As though Susan Sheridan would ever get the dates mixed up.”
Susan placed her brush back on a plastic container, placed her hands on her hips, and analyzed the work they’d done so far. It was a crisp and gloriously blue day in mid-February, one of the days that put that jump in your heart and told you, very soon, spring would arrive and, with it, a whole host of new things.
“She’s really whipped this place into shape, hasn’t she?” Susan said.
“Did she show you the art she bought to hang on the walls after it’s dried?” Christine asked. “I know a few of the photographers she chose. Insanely cool.”
“Oh, you mean, from your artistic and fancy life back in New York?” Susan teased.
Christine rolled her eyes, then grumbled, “Well, yes.”
Susan laughed. “Imagine what you could be doing instead of painting Lola’s cabin? Caviar with socialites... Yacht rides with celebrities...”
Christine turned back toward the wall and continued to paint. “I’m not listening!”
Lola reappeared from the bathroom. She’d gotten most of the paint off her face but still had streaks of it in her hair. She moaned and reached for a bag of chips, which they’d splayed on the couch earlier. “Are you leaving us in a lurch, Susie?”
“I told you guys! Amanda and I want to check out some offices downtown. It would be good for us to set aside actual space for our new clients so that we don’t spend so much time at the kitchen table. Audrey needs that space for her snacks, apparently.”
“And Amanda would love to have somewhere else to go, I’m sure,” Lola chimed in. “I talked to her a bit about what happened with Chris in Newark. It sounds kind of civil—almost beyond their years, which is quite impressive but still so sad.”
“I just want to put as much distance between Chris and us as possible,” Susan said firmly. She felt the stubbornness in her own voice. “No matter what his reasons are, I want him to be more of an idea than a person right now.”
As Susan slid her winter coat over her shoulders, Lola analyzed the hard work they’d done that morning. “I can’t believe it, but I really think when Tommy gets back from sailing, he’s going to love it. The man is finally settling down. And he even complimented a few of the photographs I bought!”
“Think he’ll ever pop the question?” Christine teased, grinning madly at her.
At this, Lola’s cheeks burned bright red. She shifted her weight and then turned her eyes to the ground. “I don’t know. I mean. I always thought maybe I didn’t want that. But now...”
“But now maybe Lorraine Sheridan has had a change of heart?” Christine said.
“Haven’t we all?” Lola whispered.
A SHOWER, A SANDWICH, and a quick drive to downtown Oak Bluffs later, Susan found herself touring three empty rooms that had the potential to become the law offices of Sheridan and Harris (several years down the line, of course, after Amanda passed the bar). With every step she took and every question she asked the realtor, she felt this wild future stretched out before her and Amanda. Was it really possible that they could spend every day, side-by-side, discussing that which they really loved the most: the law?
“Don’t get too excited, but I do have one other listing available as of this morning,” the realtor told her as they walked out into the chilly February mid-day. “I thought of you first.”
By the time they reached the second office space, Amanda had joined them. She wore a beautiful black pea coat, and her hair caught the bright sun beautifully. She greeted the realtor with an air of professionalism and then began to ask a range of questions about the office space, even some that Susan had forgotten to ask. Susan made a mental note to thank Amanda later for that; what would she do without her team-mate?
In some respects, this reminded Susan of the first few years she’d worked alongside Richard. They’d complimented one another beautifully. Perhaps Amanda had the good attributes that her father had.
Mid-way through their tour, the realtor had to take a quick call out in the lobby. Susan and Amanda hovered in the empty space, which glowed with light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Amanda crossed and uncrossed her arms as Susan flung hers out on either side.
“What do you think?” Susan breathed, her voice catching. “Could you see us working here?”
Amanda’s eyes were glassy, as though she was on the verge of tears. “Weirdly, I really could, Mom.”
“Weirdly?” Susan laughed aloud at that, then drew her arms around her daughter and held her tight against her. When Amanda had returned from Newark a few days before, she’d taken to her bed for several hours, and before she’d reappeared in the living room, her brow furrowed and her eyes were stern. I never want to leave this island, she’d said. I feel like it was a gift that I was even able to return here. And Chris is right. Our paths are just different now. I sensed it a long time ago. And really, I should thank him for being brave enough to do something about it. Susan had sensed a little bit of a lie within her daughter's words; obviously, Amanda wouldn’t get over such heartbreak so quickly, but Susan could feel that she was grateful not to be stuck in a marriage that wasn’t true at heart. And Susan knew better than most that sometimes, the words you told yourself became a path toward some kind of healing.
When the realtor returned, Susan broke the hug with her daughter, cracked her mouth into a huge grin and said, “I think this is the one.”
“Really!” The realtor looked mesmerized, as though she’d never had to put less work in to make a deal.
“This one is definitely the one,” Susan beamed.
“Where we’re going to hang everything on the walls,” Amanda added.
“And where our desks will go!” Susan affirmed.
“And where we’ll pour wine at the end of a very long day to celebrate our victories,” Amanda said, pointing toward an empty space near the wall. “I can envision it now.”
The realtor chuckled, spread out her palms, and said, “Well, okay then. Shall I draw up the paperwork?”
Susan and Amanda clasped hands and nodded in unison. “I think it’s time,” Susan declared.
Back at home, they found Wes with a big bag of peanut M&Ms, and Audrey stretched out on the floor near his feet with her head propped up on a pillow. Susan feigned a stern voice to her father. “Dad, what have I told you about sugar?”
At this, Audrey clucked her tongue and said, “Aunt Susie, he’s helping me. I’ve already caught four in my mouth.”
“Helping you? Are you in training or something?” Amanda asked as she stepped over her cousin.
“Yes. I’m in training to keep my mind off of the fact that I’m bigger than a whale,” Audrey attested.
“She’s gotten pretty good at it,” Wes said. “It reminds me of my old basketball days. Your mother used to come out and watch me. All the other boys had cheerleader girlfriends, and I had my Anna.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially and said, “Anna was always a little too artistic for anything like that.” He then pitched the peanut M&M in a perfect parabola. It landed squarely on Audrey’s tongue, and then, they both burst into cheers.
“I didn’t realize we walked into such a game,” Susan said with a laugh.
; After Audrey chewed and swallowed, she lifted her hands as a request for help back to her feet. Amanda eased her up slowly and carefully.
“You guys look happy,” Audrey said. “Did you find an office space?”
“We did!” Susan cried.
Audrey clapped her hands, adjusted her shirt, and then said, “I have thought about it a lot. And I want to help you with marketing. If you’re going to have these offices, then there’s no reason you can’t have a few social media and Google ads running, just to get your name out there.”
Susan arched her eyebrow. Not for a moment had she considered that Audrey might have something professional to add to her law offices. Amanda and Susan exchanged glances; Amanda shrugged, and then said, “Okay! Sure. Let’s do it. After dinner?”
“After dinner,” Audrey affirmed. She lifted her hand for Grandpa Wes to high-five.
“I told you they needed you,” Grandpa Wes insisted. “You just doubted yourself.”
Audrey pressed her finger to her lips and then hissed, “Don’t give the game away, Grandpa. I have to play it cool.”
“If there’s anything we don’t do in the Sheridan family,” Susan said with a hearty laugh, “It’s playing it cool.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Babe, you should have been there. Piper set it all up—wines from all over France and Italy and cheeses from Switzerland. All these really hot guys who work in the film industry were just chilling and flirting with whomever. The entire time, I couldn’t help but think — why isn’t Amanda here? She should be here!”
This was Brittany. She’d called Amanda that morning around ten to recount some events of the previous weekend. All Amanda, who was poring over various documents for her mother’s legal firm, could do, was say, “Uh-huh. Wow. Cool,” over and over again, until Brittany finally exploded and said, “Amanda, come on! When is this going to stop? When are you coming back to Newark?”
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