Paul knew he still had a long way to go, but he had changed. He had a small but loyal group of friends, a community who genuinely cared about him and what he was doing. And, against all odds, he’d found Susan. A woman who inspired him to be a better version of himself, and who knew what it was like to be consumed by their career.
Paul pulled out his phone and saw Susan’s worried messages. He typed: I’m okay. Michelle passed away this morning. I’ll explain everything when I get back. I’m sorry for worrying you.
Then he turned off his phone and drove home, trying to figure out how to build a future while carrying the guilt of an unhappy past.
Chapter 15
Susan stood in her cottage kitchen, staring at Paul’s text on her phone for the tenth time in as many minutes.
I’m okay. Michelle passed away this morning. I’ll explain everything when I get back. I’m sorry for worrying you.
Michelle. His ex-wife, Susan assumed, although Paul had never mentioned her name. And now she was dead, and Paul had been with her when it happened, and Susan had no idea what any of it meant.
She set down her phone and picked up her coffee cup, wrapping both hands around it for warmth even though the cottage wasn’t cold. Outside her window, the sky was full of gray November clouds that promised more snow.
Since he’d been gone, Paul’s texts had been brief. After reading them, she’d swung between worry and hurt, and a creeping sense that she’d made a terrible mistake kissing him.
Maybe Paul wasn’t ready for what they’d started to build.
Maybe she’d misread everything.
Susan’s phone buzzed with a text from Isabel: Coffee this morning? I have fresh muffins.
Susan almost said she couldn’t make it. She wasn’t fit company for anyone right now. But sitting alone in her cottage obsessing over Paul’s silence wasn’t helping either.
I’ll be there in 20 minutes, Susan typed back.
She changed out of her pajamas, ran a brush through her hair without really looking in the mirror, and drove to Isabel’s house on autopilot. The familiar route gave her time to think, which was both a blessing and a curse.
Susan gripped the steering wheel. She had no right to feel hurt by Paul’s absence. They’d shared one kiss. One vulnerable conversation. One promise to try to build something together. That didn’t give her the right to demand explanations about his past or his family emergencies.
But underneath the rational thoughts, hurt pulsed like a bruise.
He’d disappeared without any real explanation right after they’d said they wanted to be more than friends. He’d sent brief, distant texts that told her nothing meaningful. And now his ex-wife was dead, and Susan still didn’t know when Paul was coming back.
Isabel opened the door before Susan could knock, her expression immediately shifting to concern. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Susan said dryly, but she managed a small smile. “Can I come in anyway?”
“Of course.” Isabel pulled her into a quick hug. “Frank is at Tommy’s school for career day, so it’s just us. The muffins are this way.”
Susan followed her friend into the kitchen. The muffins sat cooling on a rack alongside a pot of fresh coffee. The warm kitchen, the smell of baking, and Isabel’s quiet presence made something in Susan’s chest loosen.
“Okay,” Isabel said, pouring coffee for both of them and settling into her chair. “Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I’ve known you since we were at summer camp together. I can tell when you’re spiraling.”
Susan wrapped her hands around her coffee cup. “Paul’s been gone for three days. He said it was a family emergency. And now Michelle, his ex-wife, has died. That’s all I know.”
Isabel’s eyebrows rose. “His ex-wife?”
“I didn’t even know her name until he sent me a text saying she’d passed away.” Susan heard the hurt in her own voice and hated it. “And I know I don’t have the right to feel abandoned. We’re not... we haven’t... it was just one kiss. Just one conversation about trying to build something together. But Isabel, I thought we were past the point of him shutting me out completely.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
Susan shook her head. “He said he’d explain everything when he got back. I don’t want to push. What if I’m overreacting? What if he needs space to grieve and I’m being clingy and demanding?”
“Or,” Isabel said gently, “what if he’s drowning and doesn’t know how to ask for help? What if he’s shutting you out not because he doesn’t care, but because he doesn’t know how to let you in?”
Susan thought about this, turning it over in her mind. “You think I should reach out?”
