Then someone takes the mic—a middle-aged guy in a Hawaiian shirt—and starts singing. His voice is surprisingly smooth, and the crowd falls quiet.
The first few chords are familiar… about remembering a dance.
Not this song.
I swallow hard.
I’m suddenly twenty-two again, barefoot at the end of our wedding night, my heels abandoned under the table while Beckett sways with me in the emptying hall—slow, unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be.
Then, other images flash through my mind. Our first apartment. The day I found out I was pregnant, and seven months later, Beckett holding one of my legs up, encouraging me. The tears in his eyes after.
Sharing the late-night feedings, painting their rooms together after we moved into our house… Us together. Eating. Laughing. Making love… All those moments I wouldn’t have had if we weren’t together…
But the singer goes on, about not knowing it would end. Not knowing he’d have to say goodbye.
I pull away, sliding off Beckett’s lap. “I’m gonna go check on the boys.” I practically trip over my feet to get out of there, not because of the alcohol, but because I forgot that I was angry…
Beckett moves to stand.
I lift a hand, stopping him. “No. I’m fine. I’ll… I’ll see you back in the room.”
The last thing I want is for him to follow me. I need air.
I need space.
Before I have to listen to another verse, the door closes behind me.
I let myself breathe.
This, tonight, it isn’t what separating from your husband is supposed to look like—what it’s supposed to feel like.
The alcohol is buzzing in my veins, my skin flushed and tingling. My back is cold where I had been leaning against him, too relaxed, too comfortable.
I was so busy worrying about fooling everyone else, I never stopped to think that I might fool myself too.
I DID THIS
BECKETT
“Is she okay?” Luna leans forward, half out of her chair, like she’s about to chase after her sister, but I know I can’t let that happen.
Ashley doesn’t want Luna—or anyone—knowing what’s really going on.
And I still don’t know if I can protect her from myself this year, but I can at least protect her sister from learning the truth.
I can damn well do that.
So I roll with the pregnancy rumor Ashley mentioned earlier.
“She got queasy,” I say, already pushing to my feet. “I’m gonna grab her some crackers or something from the ship’s store.” I force a shrug. “Don’t worry, we’ll see you guys in the morning.”
While the last notes ofThe Dancefade, I weave through the maze of chairs and slip out of the bar.
I don’t see her. She really will be checking on the boys.
It’s what she does.
Normally, I would follow her, but as much as I love my mother-in-law, it would mean more pretending. That’s the last thing Ashley needs right now.
