“Like a hurricane?” Lizzie had seen what those things could do on the news.
“No, we don’t get those until June. It’s more like a bad, unseasonable storm. But we don’t know if it’s coming or not. Could just dissipate again, or it could go north. Or south. Who knows?”
She shrugged. “I see.” She paused for a beat. “I can’t imagine you in a tent, you know.”
“Ah, Billy’s brother Joel took us camping every year until he died six years ago. I’ve been in plenty of tents.”
“You really loved him. Billy. I can tell when you talk about him,” Lizzie said.
Sarah looked at her. “I did. Just not the way people assumed.”
“What way then?”
“He was my best friend. My mentor. The person who believed in me when no one else did.” Sarah’s voice went quiet.
Lizzie tried to process that. The arrangement made sense on paper. But the way Sarah talked about Billy, the softness in her voice, suggested something deeper. Something Lizzie didn’t quite understand.
“Did you ever wish it was different?” Lizzie asked. “Like a real marriage?”
“It was a real marriage. Just not a conventional one.” Sarah started walking again. “People think marriage has to be about passion and romance. But there are lots of ways to love someone. Lots of ways to build a life together.”
“I guess I just don’t get how you could spend years with someone and not want more.”
“I had everything I needed. Security. Respect. Someone who accepted me completely. He was by best friend. And I was his. You know, he never stopped sleeping with a photo of his late wife by his bed? I’d hear him talking to her sometimes. It was cute. And heart breaking.” Sarah glanced at her.
They got up and walked in silence for a while. Tourists flowed around them, taking photos and eating overpriced food from the vendors. A street performer was doing a magic show. Kids gathered around him, laughing.
“You think I’m lying,” Sarah said. “About loving him.”
“No. I just think maybe you’re not telling me the whole story. Like why he picked you as his wife. Why he chose to help you. There’s more, isn’t there?”
Sarah shrugged. “There’s always more to every story.”
She wasn’t going to tell her more. And for right now, Lizzie had to accept that.
Chapter 12
Sarah
The sun was dropping toward the horizon, turning Mallory Square golden. Sarah leaned against the van scrolling through her phone. No emergencies at the hotel. Carlos had texted a photo of the fixed toilet in building B with the caption “Beauty shot.”
Two girls from the group approached. Sarah recognized them from check-in. Roommates from NYU.
“Ms. Barnes?” The shorter one twisted her hands together. “We signed up for the shuttle back, but we actually don’t need it anymore.”
“Oh, alright,” Sarah nodded with a smile. “We’ll take you off the list.”
The girls took off and Sarah saw at once why they didn’t need the ride anymore. They got on the back of two scooters–driven by two handsome guys.
Lizzie walked over. “What was that about?”
“Our two shuttle passengers just bailed. Met some guys. Which means we can head back. No point staying if nobody needs a ride. If they change their minds, they can do the on-call shuttle and wait. You want to stay? Or do you want a ride home?”
Lizzie’s tongue slipped over her lips in a way that had Sarah’s stomach do flips.
“A ride, I guess.”
“Alright,” Sarah said. “But can we stop at my place? The pie I bought earlier should really go in the fridge.”
