Christ. How do people do this?
How do they feel this sort of emotion? How do they willingly charge into relationships where they know loss is inevitable? It’s just?—
“Lovely,” says the officiant as Cassie and Simon return to the front of the aisle and join hands once again. “Shall we continue?”
And the service goes on, but my heart doesn’t restart. It just sits there like a heavy, leaden ball in the center of my chest.
Dead inside.
That’s what I’ve been for so long, what I’ve needed to be to survive.
But I can’t be that with Sarah.
It’s not the song or the wedding or the sunlight on the water that makes my hollowed-out heart fill with hope. It’s Sarah—Sarah—who loosened my death grip on the self-control that’s held my heart in check for so long. Sarah who has me feeling the sort of joy and sadness and sweeping ache of emotions I haven’t felt since—since?—
Shane.
I can’t do this again. My battered heart can’t handle it, and it isn’t fair to her. I have to stay dead inside to protect us both, and I can’t be that with Sarah.
I was an idiot for thinking I could.
When Sarah’s eyes find mine in the crowd, I summon everything I’ve got to offer her a smile that makes my teeth ache.
She smiles back, face glowing with emotion.
The instant she looks away, I close my eyes to swallow back the pain.
Somehow, I make it through the ceremony.
I make it through the reception, too, though God only knows what I ate or who I talked to or how I managed to keep the cheerful smile pasted on my face.
Seeing Sarah helps, and each time I glance at her, a surge of emotion rushes through me.
I hate it.
I hate it and I love it and I’m so confused by all of it that I’m glad we’re not around each other all that much at the reception. She’s running around like mad tending to bridesmaid duties, getting her picture taken and assisting Junie with a wedding speech that brings everyone to tears. Cassie and Simon can’t stop touching, can’t stop looking at each other like they’re deliriously dumbfounded by how much in love they are.
I’m happy for them. I’m happy for all of them. Even if this isn’t something I can have, even if I don’t believe love-based marriages are sustainable, maybe they’ll make it work. That’s not something I could do, but good for them if they can defy the odds.
It’s after nine when Sarah and I finally make it back to our cabin. Most of the wedding guests are staying in the lodge, but members of the wedding party get their own little cottages on the lake shore. It’s beautiful here, with a light breeze ruffling the surface of the lake. A nighthawk swoops and dives between the trees, and I watch it through the window while Sarah disappears into the bathroom.
I tug off my tie and slowly let down my guard. I can be myself now. I’ve always been able to do that with Sarah, but I need it now more than ever.
“Here you go.” Sarah appears from out of nowhere and hands me a champagne flute brimming with bubbles. “I noticed you didn’t eat or drink much at the reception.”
“Just tired,” I tell her, dropping my tie onto the dresser as I reach for the glass. “Lots of driving this week, plus today’s been crazy.”
“And you’ve been getting ready for that final presentation at Wyeth.”
“That, too.”
Sarah studies my face, and I wonder if she knows that’s not the full story. That there’s something else bothering me, or that I’d prefer not to talk about it. It’s easier, keeping things bottled up. I know this from experience.
“Want to sit out on the porch?” she suggests. “It’s a nice night. Still warm out.”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
She gives me a smile that’s almost shy. “I didn’t realize how much I missed that. The way we’d sit outside together by the campfire just talking. Out in your mom’s field the other night—I mean before we, um?—”
