“… this is how you remind me,” Hugo sang in that deep, slightly scratchy voice that had captivated her that night on the beach. Suddenly, Nickelback didn’t seem all that embarrassing.
But Marigold refused to let him get off that easily and made a show of running ahead.
“I refuse to stay within earshot of that,” she called over her shoulder.
Hugo’s singing got louder as he approached the chorus.
“I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY EARSACCOSTED BY NICKELBACK,” Marigold shouted, though in truth, she’d happily listen to Hugo sing anything. His rich, gravelly voice was still one of her favorite sounds in the world. She sped up, laughing as Hugo chased after her. Without thinking, she turned around the side of the house and ran down the dirt path that led to the beach, guided by muscle memory and the scent of the sea.
“YOU CONSENTED THE MOMENT YOU LANDED ON CANADIAN SOIL!” Hugo rejoined, then started to sing again, even louder.
“Stop it!” Marigold tried to speed up, but her laughter kept throwing her off-balance. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed this hard. This wasn’t the practiced, coquettish giggle she could produce on command—this was wild and genuine and was probably doing unattractive things to her face, but she didn’t care.
When the path began to slope down, she slowed to a walk, though she was still laughing too hard to catch her breath. Her lungs burned, but the rest of her body felt strangely light. Hugo fell in step next to her while Humphrey sprinted ahead, though he kept whirling around and running back to sniff Marigold, confirming she hadn’t once again vanished into thin air.
For Marigold, stepping onto the sand was like stepping back in time. Her skin tingled with the memory of emerging from the water—lost and shivering—until she’d been enveloped by the warmth of a fire, and the welcoming smile of a guitar-strumming stranger.
As though reading her mind, Hugo said quietly, “I think about that night every time I come down here.”
“How often is that?”
“Every day.”
Marigold came to a stop and closed her eyes as something in her chest tore open. The world seemed to swim around her, as if the stars themselves had slid out of the night sky and come tumbling down to earth.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Why’d you leave, Mare?” Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel him standing next to her.
“I don’t know,” she said, voice cracking under the weight of all the other words left unsaid, the ones she’d been afraid to utter, even to herself. The truths she’d buried to protect her heart, even when it meant breaking his. Because deep down, she did know why she’d run away after the two happiest weeks of her life. She’d always been told that she was reckless, that she didn’t consider the consequences of her impulsive decisions. That she depended on others to clean up her messes. And so, when she’d married a stranger after two weeks, it’d felt like she was proving everyone right. But that was only half of it. The truth was, she’d been blissfully happy and utterly terrified at the same time. She’d felt free with Hugo in a way she never had before; there’d been no pressure to maintain the charming party-girl persona that had defined and exhausted her back home. But that’d also made her feel incredibly vulnerable—she’d never gone that long without her armor, and was terrified that Hugo would eventually lose interest once he realized she was just a girl like any other.
But how could she tell him all this? It sounded trite and ridiculous in her own head; how could she possibly say any of it aloud? “Those two weeks felt like a dream,” she said finally. “It was hard to believe that kind of happiness could be real. I figured I’d ruin it at some point, and you didn’t deserve that.”
“I thought…” Hugo’s shoulders slumped. “I assumed you regretted marrying someone like me. No degree, no real career. I thought you were ashamed of me.”
“Hugo,no.” The word tore through her, propelled by shame. “You’re so completely, totally off base. I didn’t think I was good enough for you! You’re brilliant and kind and handsome, and I was this flighty girl who couldn’t stick with anything.”
She turned away, unable to bear the pain in Hugo’s eyes. “So that’s why you started the business? Redid the house? To prove you were ‘good enough’ for me?”
He reached out for her arm and gently pulled her around to face him. “I don’t regret any of it,” he said quietly. “Even if I was… misguided. It put me on the right track. And I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”
“Don’t say that.” Marigold shook her head just as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “I don’t deserve that.”
“Mare… You don’t need to beat yourself up. There were a million reasons why it never would’ve worked. Just because I didn’t see them at the time doesn’t mean you weren’t right.”
“Right to run off? And leave you anote?”
“No,” he said, wincing. “That wasn’t right. But you were scared and made a mistake. I forgive you.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself,” Marigold said, voice trembling.
Hugo reached out to wipe the tears off her cheek, then ran his fingers along the side of her face until his hand cupped her chin. Gently, he lifted her face toward his. Marigold’s whole body went still except for her heart, which began to thump as manically as Humphrey’s tail. This was it. The moment she’d longed for and feared since he’d first opened the door.
She closed her eyes and held her breath, then felt his lips brush against her forehead.
She wasn’t sure whether she was more disappointed or relieved.
Hugo let out a long breath, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her toward his chest, this time kissing the top of her head. “You have to,” he whispered into her ear. “We gave it a shot. Now it’s time to move on.”
