There’d be no retreat. David and I were justgetting started.
The Lagoon wasa restaurant made wholly of stained-glass windows and overpriced poached eggs. It was the halfway point between Westbrooke and my hometown, a place my mother had heavily vetted as a worthy replacement for the usual place we “held court.”
Dad and my older brother, Adam, had an open invitation, but they never used it, citing that “court” was for those in charge, and they simply got in the way. The real reason was that they loathed the idea of being up on a weekend any time before 11 a.m..
On the other hand, my sisters and I were well-oiled cogs. All of us focused on becoming the best of the best and being regimented. And though I’d been picking at my hair all week, on the morning of breakfast, I felt no urge to reach for the thinning patch at the back of my head. Because even if I still felt like a bumbling loser for not having the ball neatly laid out and my hiccup with Ren haunting every other thought, I knew Mom was going to wrap me into her arms like I was the reason the stars shone so bright. My oldest sister, Aimee, would hum in approval of all my ideas. She was basically a second mother, and that made her perpetually impressed with anything I accomplished since she’d known me during the time when I couldn’t hold my head up. Logan would ask if I was getting enough sun and suggest I replace coffee with Haven’s green juice in my morning routine. And Rose…
Well, Rose and I stood on almost the same playing field. At exactly eleven months older than me, she was more prone to take whatever I was doing and hold it up next to her to-do list to see if we aligned. We shared the same temperament, which led to the same hang-ups. If I were to argue with a family member —which was almost concerningly rare considering how often we got together— it would be her ninety-eight percent of the time. Today, especially, I prepped for abattle, manning myself with a freshly steamed blouse and white skirt.
“I’ll never understand the need to dress up to go to breakfast with family,” Haven said around a yawn as I was on my way out.
“It’s what we’re most comfortable with.” I shrugged. We’d tried doing a casual, sweatshirt and loose jeans kind of meal, and the whole time we’d fidgeted and lost track of where the conversation had been going.
“Never understand,” she repeated, lying her head back down on her pillow to catch a few more hours of sleep.
The morning sky was painted pink when Logan’s black sedan pulled up on the curb to get me.
“Sorry, traffic’s a nightmare,” she said, an explanation for her two-minute lateness.
“There’s a game on campus this afternoon.” I slipped into the seat.
“Jeez.” She pulled back onto the road slowly, ever cautious, ever vigilant.
“You got this.” I clicked on my seatbelt, watching the rearview with her as a fast car nearly clipped our side.
Logan chewed on her bottom lip, going silent so she could focus on making it out of the university area and onto the highway. I dug my fingers into my seat until we were safely merged and in the flow of traffic. Logan was a highway driver, far more confident going eighty miles per hour on a long stretch of road than thirty-five miles per hour on a local street. My shoulders relaxed, and the unspoken, no-talking rule disappeared, blowing away with the blasting heat of the AC.
One day, I would be brave enough to talk about why she was hesitant behind the wheel and why it was my fault. One day, maybe we’d admit that despite getting along so well, we also fueled one another’s anxieties and fears in a way no oneelse ever could. Not today. The pain was still too heavy to lift off my shoulders today.
“I should warn you.” Logan reached to turn on the radio. Comforting smooth jazz flowed into the space.
Great. She was trying to keep my heart rate down.
“Why do people say that?” I wondered out loud. “Why don’t they just warn you?”
“Courtesy.” Logan shrugged. “It’s only polite.”
Every women lived for politeness. Politeness was like a second skin for us. And it came as easily as breathing to me… except when I was with a certain someone. And since I’d got a taste of the opposite side of the coin, I craved it in moments like this. David’s blunt rudeness released me from any leading anxiety. I could never admit this out loud, but it was freeing in a way. No tiptoeing around corners to avoid hard edges.
My lips stung at the memory of us in the kitchen. His hand on my jaw, mouth coaxing me to let him in. We hadn’t spoken since then. One week. It’s the longest we’ve gone without talking since we started texting again. I hated it. I needed the space, but I hated it. Missing him was embarrassing, wanting him was confusing.
“Mom knows about the text,” Logan said.
My sister’s warning temporarily eclipsed my worrying about my awkward standing with David. I slouched in my seat, wiping my hands over my face.
“But I don’t think it’s going to be that big of a deal.” Logan reached over in an attempt to pat my head, but snatched it away when she realized someone was trying to merge in front of her.
“Rose didn’t even say anything to me.” I unlocked my phone and scrolled through our texts just in case I’d missed something. In case we had some heart-to-heart I’d forgotten about.
“From what I can tell, it was a last-minute slip,” Logan said.
“From what you can tell? Were you there when she said it?”
She nodded. “We were shopping for engagement dresses.”
“Engagement dresses?” I asked. “So, I’m really the last person to hear that Ren’s proposing?”
Logan winced, ashamed of the secret. “It was a touchy subject and a very new development. We all wanted to wait until we could be together to tell you in person. So we could be there for you both.”
