The only problem was that I couldn’t find the lines between fake and real anymore. They were blurry now and I’d known that would happen when we slept together but in moments like these—when we were putting on the happy couple act—I felt the need to go looking for those lines. I had to know where the boundaries of our reality were buried. Otherwise, I was liable to start believing Noah’s stories and imagining a life in this town beyond my one required year.
When Gennie ran across the field to greet a friend and we were finally alone for a minute, I said, “Look at her. Look how well she’s doing with her little buddy.”
“I know. I can’t believe it. She’s a totally different kid than when she came here a year ago.” He grinned down at me. “Thanks for helping with that by the way.”
“No problem.” I watched as they both took off a mitten and traded with each other to make mismatched pairs. “Did you spend much time with Gennie when she was a baby?”
“Eva lived near New York when she had Gennie, and I met her as a baby though I wouldn’t say I spent a lot of time with her then. They moved around a fair bit. Eva didn’t like staying in one spot too long. Always on one adventure or another. Van life, you know.” He glanced away for a second. “She came home with Gennie when my dad died, and then again, about two years later. They stayed with me for a few months before hitting the road. So, yeah, I knew her. Somewhat.”
Noah never talked much about Eva. Not now, not back in high school. I’d known she left home and ventured out on her own and that her relationship with her parents had been difficult but that was the extent of it.
Though he’d never said it explicitly, I’d always had the impression that Noah preferred that I didn’t know much about his sister. Not that he was ashamed of her in any way, but so I knew him, not Eva Barden’s little brother.
I’d never said it explicitly but I’d always liked that I knew Noah Barden. He’d been kind to me when I had no one other than a step-grandmother I barely knew, and he’d listened while I ranted about my lonely, privileged world.
He waved a hand at the festivities around us. “Do you remember the plan we cooked up? When we were kids?”
I laughed, my breath a white cloud in the cold air. “We had a plan? For what?”
“You don’t remember any of it?” He stared at me, his brows pinched together. “Not at all?”
I shook my head. “No. Remind me.”
He glanced away with an eye roll as though my Swiss cheese memory was a real problem for him. “We were going to return here and show this town what they’d lost.”
“Why don’t I remember this?”
“I don’t know, Shay,” he said, the words clipped. “But we’d always talked about coming back.”
I tapped a finger to my lips as I searched through our history. “I remember that part but I didn’t realize we were coming back for Old Home Days. Did I get it wrong?”
He stared at me then, his lips pulled into a flat line. His eyes were dark and yes, I’d gotten it wrong. It was clear I’d done something very wrong. “No, it was just an idea we tossed around.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Then don’t believe me.” He glanced across the field at Gennie and her friend. “Obviously it never happened so it doesn’t matter.”
“Isn’t it happening right now? Aren’t we back in Friendship for Old Home Days and showing everyone what they missed out on while we were gone? Or did you miss the part where nine thousand people have stopped to talk to us tonight?” When he didn’t respond, I continued. “And the surprise marriage is only part of it. You had a big law career that involved billable hours on boats and I was left at the altar, which isn’t as impressive as a yacht but it goes to show that I’m just as much of a problem as I was in high school.”
After a lengthy pause, he said, “You weren’t a problem in high school. Don’t say that. And no one here knows about your ex.”
“No one here knows I was kicked out of my Swiss boarding school because they found out I went to France one weekend to get an abortion but I still got the side-eye every day for two years.”
No need to mention that the side-eye came exclusively from people like Noah’s mother, who seemed to know without explanation that a girl shipped home from Europe and sent to live with a distant relative in the country was a special kind of cautionary tale.
He leaned in and brushed his lips over my temple. “It’s none of their fucking business. It’s not now and it wasn’t then.”
“Thank you,” I said. He’d protected me back then, the only person aside from Lollie to know the truth of my stay in Friendship. He’d understood when I talked about accidents and mistakes, and he’d never once looked at me like I was a problem. Then, “Did you come back? For Old Home Days?”
He drew in a breath and I had my answer. He didn’t have to say anything. I knew. He’d come back, expecting to find his partner in hard won redemption, and I’d forgotten. I’d escaped to Boston and into the high of pure reinvention after so many failed attempts at fitting into my newest version of perfect. I’d stripped away all of this town, leaving everything—and everyone—behind when I went.
“I never heard from you,” I said, “after you left for school. I think I texted you a few times but—what happened?”
“Yeah, well.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much to say. I’d spent the better part of a year telling everyone who’d listen that I got into Yale. I didn’t know how to turn around and say it wasn’t everything I’d built it up to be.”
“You could’ve told me. I would’ve told you that going to Boston College simply because it was my mother’s alma mater and they didn’t care about my academic record wasn’t the best choice. Not as far as existing without her shadow looming over me went.”
“But you stayed there,” he said.
