Finally, Tommy scoots far enough away from Blythe that he’s able to stand up, still with the box tightly gripped. “Crazy bitch,” he says to Blythe. He wiggles the box in front of her but keeps it away from her reach as she, panting from exertion, gets to her hands and knees, then slowly rises to her feet. As they all watch, she turns to face him.
“Please give me my box back, Tommy,” she says.
He presses it against his chest and gives her a coy look. “Tell you what,” he says. “I can either open it up, or you can tell me what’s in here.”
Blythe puts her fist to her lips, closes her eyes, and swallows. Then she speaks. “And then you’ll give it back?”
Tommy pretends to think it over, which makes Blythe want to plow into him again. But she keeps still. “Sure,” he finally says. She holds out her hand, but he waggles the fingers of his free hand at her. “Not so fast. You’ve got to tell us first.”
Blythe huffs in frustration as she looks from one woman to another. She never intended to tell anyone about this. Had she had more time to think about what her mother had proposed, she never would’ve gone along with it. She would’ve come to her senses. At least that’s what she hopes she would’ve done. But that’s not the way it’s gone. And now here she is.
The phone rings, but Tommy ignores it. All eyes stay on Blythe, who takes a deep breath before she begins to speak.
“I came here to send part of my dog’s ashes to my ex-boyfriend. We got the dog—Murphy was his name—together back in college. And when we broke up, I kept him with me because Bryan—that’s my ex—went off to law school. So it just made more sense for me to be the one to keep him. And, well, Murphy was...” A tear slips down her cheek. “They say dogs are man’s best friend. And he was. To me. I’ve been pretty devastated since he died.” She swipes at the tears that have followed the first one. “This is hard for me to talk about,” she says, so quietly they can barely hear her.
“Tommy,” says Nadine, “you’re an absolute ass for making her do this.” Though they don’t say so, Morrow and Sylvie agree. They would hate to be forced to tell the others what they brought in here to mail.
Tommy shrugs and makes a motion for Blythe to continue. Blythe swallows, acquiescing because to tell her story is to fix a mistake. Maybe it is fitting, she thinks, that she must confess before she gets her package back. Besides, she will probably never see these people again. So she goes for broke.
“When Murphy died, I posted about it on Instagram—a reel of pictures throughout his life and a quote about loving a dog. Just, you know, something I wanted to do as a tribute to him, to what a good dog he was. Then a few days after that, Bryan messaged me. Just to, you know, say he was sorry to hear about Murphy and that he often thought about him.” She swallows. “And about me.” She looks up, scans the faces in the circle. “It kind of, um, went from there.”
Tommy cocks his head and crosses his arms. “So you were talking to your ex behind your fiancé’s back?”
Blythe looks down, nods. “I know how it sounds. I didn’tmean for it to unfold the way it did. I just—well.” She pauses, thinking about how to explain why she kept talking to Bryan when she loves Aaron. “Bryan was sort of ‘the one who got away.’ He’s this successful attorney now. He’s done well for himself, and my fiancé—” She stops talking as she sees Tommy’s facial features start to contort. “My mom keeps saying I can do better,” she says. She puts her hands over her face but keeps talking through her fingers.
“Look, I know how bad this sounds. I don’t want to be the kind of person who does something like this. It’s just that last night my mom was in town, and she wanted me to have wine with her. I’m not a big drinker, so the wine went straight to my head, and I ended up telling her that I’d been talking to Bryan.” Blythe pictures her mother’s face in the moonlight as they sat on her gran’s porch, how she leaned forward, eager, as Blythe spoke.
“She came up with this plan for me to offer to send him some of Murphy’s ashes since we got him together and hehasseemed genuinely sad about Murphy dying. She thought I should play up our shared past and maybe that would, like, move things to another level. She just got so excited the more we talked. It was like she saw me differently and I— Well, she’s always disappointed in me. What I do for a living, where I live, who I’m marrying. And I just—for once—wanted her to be proud of me, to be hopeful for me. So I went along with it. I reached out to Bryan last night and asked if he’d like me to send him the ashes.” She shakes her head. “In the sober light of day, it sounds every bit as ridiculous as it is. But he said yes. He seemed really touched by it. And this morning when I woke up, I felt I had to go through with it. Because I said I would.” She pauses. “And because my mom was counting on it.”
She holds up her hands, forces herself to make eye contactwith Tommy. “So that’s what’s in the package. That’s why I’m here.”
She waits for Tommy to rail at her. She deserves it. Instead, he says, very quietly, “Do you love your fiancé?”
“Very much,” Blythe says as she spins the engagement ring around on her finger. It is only a half carat, but it was all Aaron could afford. Still, she loves it, is proud of it. Or she was until her mother frowned at it.
“Then why would you do something like that to him?”
Blythe feels tears sting her eyes. She blinks them back as she answers. “Because I love my mom too. I feel caught between the two of them. I just wish she could see what I see in Aaron. For my mom, it’s all about money and status. And... marrying Aaron means I’m not going to have either.”
The phone rings again, but again no one moves to answer it. When it stops ringing, Tommy speaks. “So why marry him?”
Blythe’s smile is reflexive. “Because he’s kind and caring. Because he makes me laugh. Because we make each other happy, and when I’m around him, I feel better. About myself. About life. He’s my person.” She thinks about the dinner held in their honor the night before. “And he’s got this big, noisy family—they bicker and laugh and tease one another and tell funny stories, and I love being around them. They don’t have much either, but they... love each other. It’s only ever been me and my mom. And my gran, but she died a year ago. What Aaron’s family has is what I’ve always wanted. When I’m with them I feel like I’m part of something bigger.”
Tommy looks to Nadine, who looks down. No one speaks until Tommy walks over to Blythe and hands her the package. “You’re right,” he says. “You need to take this back.” He points at her. “Don’t be stupid and ruin a good thing just to please your mom. Let her figure out what matters for herself. And if shedoesn’t, well, she’ll be the one who’s miserable. But at least you’ll be happy. You’ll have what you want.” He tries to get Nadine to look at him, but she keeps her head down. He continues anyway. “Finding your person is a miracle. And miracles don’t come along every day.” The phone rings again, and his eyes stray in the direction of the ringing before settling back on Blythe. “Besides, it wasn’t his damn dog anyway.”
Chapter 24
Outside the post office Hope listens as the phone rings and rings but no one answers. She was hoping to get the suspect on the phone, but Hope, on high alert, no longer cares who answers as long as that person can tell her what’s going on inside the post office. The lookouts are reporting that some sort of fight broke out, but based on what they can see, it is not the suspect who was the aggressor.
Perhaps the hostages are taking control. Perhaps, thanks to their actions instead of her own, the suspect will give up and they can all go home. There was a time when such a resolution would’ve ruffled her feathers. She would want the victory, the winning points on her side of the board. Now she doesn’t care about the board.
Things are devolving, becoming more desperate the longer those five people are trapped inside that post office together. She needs more support. Especially with nightfall approaching, which always makes things seem worse. She looks at Bo, still beside her. He is well intentioned, but he isn’t much help. She needs eyes on this situation in real time, an experienced SWAT team at the ready. Help is on the way, she has been reassured. It can’t arrive soon enough.
She exhales as someone finally answers. But it is not Tommy.“Is everyone okay?” Hope blurts, then thinks better of it. “Sorry,” she says. “Who am I speaking with?”
“This is Sylvie. Yes, everyone is okay. We just had a, uh, misunderstanding.”
“I’m hearing there was some sort of altercation in there?”
