“It’s different. I chose not to have a family, so I won’t hurt them. At least there’s no one to disappoint.”
“Other than yourself.” And with that blow, she casually twists in her chair to finish the dishes. “Damn, I’ll be late for the interview,” she scoffs. “Another dream job.”
Her sarcasm gets zero reaction. She doesn’t notice I’m speechless as she’s already half out the door yelling, “Hot cocoa by the dock tonight. Clear skies, lots of stars and all that.”
The words are stuck in my head. There is no one because I refused to let anyone in. Again. Or hurt my family like my father did. It’s a decision that comes with the cutting loneliness of not having a true partner to share normal, domestic bits of bliss. Around whom I’d be comfortable enough to be open.
I’d never admit it out loud, but I look forward to dinners with Eliza and finding new ways to annoy her. The instant gratification from the little moans she makes because she enjoys what I cook. Or the silly quests she drags me into the forest for. But how would such a connection survive in the real world? When responsibilities and stress pull me away. Could I bear to see my mother’s suffering on the face of someone like Eliza? Sensing her drift apart into separate bedrooms and scheduled family meals. It’s another chant to add to my mental self-restraint mantra.
I don’t want to hurt her.
An entire week passes without me sharing another deep-hidden secret. I count it as a win. The only one since I’m getting nowhere with getting access back to my accounts. It’s unnerving to witness projects unfold as an outsider, from the media and the occasional juicy bits from Adam.
Speaking of juicy bits, Eliza’s truck of horrors is back earlier than expected. The booming slam of the driver’s door is nothing new. She’s one more creative wire contraption closer to me making her so-called car disappear. I’ll fake a lottery ticket or ask Logan to come up with a long-lost relative’s last will.
What’s odd is that she doesn’t come in. I follow her rigid silhouette through the lacy curtains until she reachesthe uncut stack of firewood and grabs the axe. There’s no good reason for her to chop wood but she’s determined and the first swing of the ax lodges in the stump.
The tension in her body pulls me outside where I’m met with the sight of a disheveled Eliza frantically splitting logs. Her long copper hair is in disarray, flying around her face, caught in the hard set of her lips.
“Doing your workout?” I test the waters, but her focus is on the tree stump. Swinging and mechanically replacing the pieces of wood without saying a word.
“It’s for the fire pit tonight.”Chop. Chop.“Go inside. I’ll come in a minute,” Eliza says with forced evenness in a scratchy voice.
The pile of firewood already stacked neatly in the rack near the shed calls out her bullshit. If my self-preservation instinct decided to do its job, I’d let her be.
“Eliza.”Chop. Chop.I cautiously inch closer and a chip of wood narrowly misses my chin. “I’m going to reach for the ax and remind you about my family’s propensity for revenge and inflicting financial ruin. Let’s stop swinging.”
She stills but doesn’t let go of the tool, so I reach for the back of her hand and slide my palm until I grab the rough handle of the ax and toss it out of reach.
As natural as breathing, my arms automatically go around her trembling body and hold Eliza against me. “You OK?”
“My engagement ring,” she wails.
“You were engaged?” The mix of surprise and disappointment goes over her head as she keeps looking at the ground.
Her lips are glued shut in a brave attempt to stop a sob, but it’s a lost battle when she tries to speak.
“He gave it to her.” Eliza gets the words out between whimpers.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Jared jumped boats faster than a rat with a water allergy and I’m secretly relieved he’ll be out of the picture.
“Everybody’s congratulating them. His parents, our friends,” she sniffs. “Like I didn’t exist the last eight years. Like I’m a speck of dirt they brushed off,” her voice is faint, and her unfocused gaze roams the lake.
Her tears stir something I can’t name behind my ribs. I help her sit on the back porch stairs, but she keeps staring at the still surface of the water, reflecting the green belt of trees around it.
Eliza pulls out her phone and shows me Caroline’s post. The picture shows her holding the back of her hand to the camera so you can’t miss the ring. Jared holds a sonogram over her still-flat belly.
Some blessings take you by surprise, but there’s nothing better than having the right person by your side. My soulmate. My fiancé.
Nauseating.
“His mother never accepted me, because I’m astray. She called me that to my face,” Eliza says through a watery laugh. “I bent over backward to make her like me. Now she calls Caroline the daughter she never had!”
Her knee bounces restlessly and she reaches for the faint line over her temple, rubbing it absentmindedly.
“We were together for eight years,” Eliza shrieks. “And she still got my name wrong!”
“You shouldn’t have to beg for their love. You’re lucky. The trash took itself out.”
