It couldn’t be to stay. “I guess it’s time for my trip to London and finding my happiness.”
Nan huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Your happiness won’t be found anywhere when you are running from who you are. London won’t solve your problems, just like a lifetime supply of ice cream won’t.”
I stomped to the bathroom and shut the door harder than necessary. “I might as well try.”
“You are as stubborn as your mother.” I heard Nan huffand walk away.
My mother . . . my parents. The old pain rushed up my throat like it’d never left. Searing and red hot. I leaned my head against the door and closed my eyes. The emotions and pain rolled through me like a storm. I usually had my walls up when I got one of these pangs. The pangs that reminded me I was alone, and my parents were dead. This time, I was too raw from Scott. I wasn’t ready. My emotions dragged me under, choking me from the inside.
I cried.
I cried for the life I thought I would have.
I cried for the memories I didn’t get to share with my parents. Prom, high school graduation, everything.
If I got married, if I graduated from college, if I changed the world for the better, they wouldn’t be there for any of it. And Nan was getting married and was old enough that she would be gone one day too. And I really would be all alone. With my scars and my pain.
Tears ran down my face. It was too heavy. I gasped for air as my throat burned with pain, and I crumpled to the ground. A weight sat on my chest, pressing me into the floor, pressing every breath from my lungs. Drowning. Shaking. My chest burned from the lack of oxygen, and my throat felt like it was bleeding.
I need help and I needed to let myself heal.
I crawled towards the sink and stood. I looked at myself in the mirror, at my drooped shoulders, puffy face, and red eyes. I lifted my shirt and examined the wounds of my past. Ones that had not healed quite right. Just like me.
My fear wasn’t about not having children. I was afraid to be left behind. To be alone. That’s why it hurt when I thought I had something real with Scott. That’s why I hated planning my future.
And now that he was gone, I was left in the cage I had built for myself. The one that I chose to be alone in—that way, it wouldn’t hurt as much when it came true. It turned out that I had believed a lie—drowning alone was far worse.
I looked in the mirror and remembered that younger girl whowas still a part of me. The one who had woken up with tubes and wires everywhere, in a white sterile room that smelled of antiseptic. Nan was on a chair, but where were my parents?
A doctor’s stilted apology and explanation of why he couldn’t save my parents lived inside my head. The pain came on me full force and swallowed me whole. I couldn’t even say the word dead, it felt too permanent. People giving me hugs and apologizing before I could accept their deaths were even real. The tears had fallen then until I was hollow and had nothing left to cry. Until my throat had been scratched raw. My legs were broken, but I was wheeled around at the funeral. Hugs and sad looks. Questions and apologies. Where would I go now, they asked. What would I do? It was too much. I was suffocating.
Fifteen-year-old me did what she needed to survive. She pushed it down. If she had tried to face it, she would've drowned. But maybe now it was time to let it go. To breathe. I told the younger version of myself that I loved her, and it wasn’t her fault. She fell asleep during the drive. It wasn’t her fault she lived when they didn’t. I told her that one day it would hurt less. She didn’t need to carry it anymore.
By the time I got in the shower, the water was ice cold, which wasn’t ideal. The water dripped over my face and down my back. I imagined it taking little pieces of those pains and worries with it. I needed to continue therapy. I needed to face my past and still plan a future I was excited about.
When I emerged from the shower, I was beyond exhausted. I wrapped my purple towel around me and put on a clean pair of pajamas. I picked up the tissue confetti in my room and brushed and braided my hair. Nan had left some hot cocoa by my bed. It brought new tears to my eyes. Not sad or angry tears. Tears for Nan and how amazing she was. She had never left me alone.
Maybe Nan was right. I couldn’t find happiness elsewhere until I faced my past and learned to love the person inside. Iwondered if a change of scenery might give me permission to do it in my own way without so many witnesses.
Maybe London was what I needed. But not because I was running—because I needed space to find something. Plus, I couldn’t stay, waiting for Scott to leave and the future I envisioned at the B&B to be demolished would be torture. That would be way too much to handle.
Chapter Thirty-One
SCOTT
I leanedmy head against the soft leather seats of my Mustang and looked up at the building that used to hold all my dreams. I had reluctantly agreed to come to the Christmas party at the Raymond & Johnson Law Firm. Plus, Carol was still considering selling if they would honor her wishes. I still thought Marissa would be a perfect fit, but I would look at all Carol’s options in case Marissa didn’t want it. Carol was ready to relax, and this was the least I could do for her.
I stepped out of the car and straightened my tie. Somehow, the clothes that I used to wear every day felt more restrictive now. Walking into the office entry, I met the same scowling receptionist and cold industrial building I’d encountered on my first visit. I rode the elevator up with other lawyers with straight suits, pinched frowns, and “I’m too important to talk to you” vibes.
I followed the crowd to the conference room, listening to them talk about cases and prestige, vying for the upper hand. New cars, new apartments, who worked the most hours.
I stepped to the full-length windows. Across the street was apark. There was a Christmas tree, and people holding hands skating on an ice rink, groups of families admiring the lights.
“Looks miserable, right?” The guy on my left in a navy Italian suit and gray hair nodded to the activity outside the window. He looked to be in his mid-forties.
The other guy next to him pointed to the parking lot. “Look at all those minivans. You can bet every one of those men has a nagging wife and a brood of kids with sticky hands and used clothes.” He held up his cup of wine in a sad salute to the proverbial man. They both laughed.
These men were jaded in the worst way. I saw the old me in them and was ashamed. I had been on the fast track to being a capital jerk. “Are none of you married?”
