She sighs. "I guess my reason for coming is pretty sad too."
She stretches out her left hand, curling and uncurling her fingers, her eyes focused on the motion.
A huge diamond glints in the dull overhead light. I don't know much about diamonds or weight, but the center stone is the size of a plump blueberry and is surrounded by smaller, yellow diamonds.
"That's quite a ring on your finger," I comment.
Livvie makes a grunting sound in the back of her throat. "If only the man who put it there also cared enough to be around me."
I'm not sure how to respond, but after a beat, I ask, "He didn't come out here with you?"
She shakes her head. "Too busy working."
I hear the heartbreak in the smallness of her voice. Funny how someone can break your heart, even while you're married to them.
"I'm sorry, Livvie."
She looks up at me, pushing back the hair that had fallen into her face. When she does this, two more diamonds peek out from her earlobes.
"Don't be. Sometimes things just go to shit."
I laugh once, an empty, knowing sound.
She eyes me over the brim of her cup. "You know what I'm talking about? Did someone in New York break your heart?"
My head tips up, bumping against the bookshelf behind me. Instead of moving it, I let it rest there. "Someone here," I correct.
Livvie's eyes widen. "Have you seen him since you've been back?"
"He's my mom's oncologist."
"Nooo," she draws out the word in whispered disbelief. "The universe must hate you.”
I bust out laughing. Livvie isn’t one of those friends who will lie to make me feel better and I like that. Considering all of my high school friends have either left town or I haven’t seen them in a decade, I could use a new one.
"Right?" I ask, joining in her disbelief.
"When did you two end it?"
"A long time ago, so you'd think we'd be over it by now. But it wasn't a clean break … it got ugly.”
Livvie clutches her cup tightly. “Go on. I can keep a secret.”
Fear and panic rush through me. I don’t tell my story about Owen to many people. Any people, actually. It’s my deep dark secret that festers inside of me and I don’t let it see the light of day. The only people I’ve told are my college therapist and my old roommate Anna.
Two people. And Owen. And Ace. Four people on Earth know our story. Sometimes keeping it inside of me feels like I’m drowning, like it sits heavy in my throat, begging to be let free, to escape so I can breathe.
I don’t know Livvie, so maybe that’s why I decide to tell her.
“When I was eighteen … three weeks before I was about to leave for college, I got pregnant.” The tightness in my throat eases a bit as Livvie nods in complete understanding. She doesn’t say anything, so I go on. “I … chose not to keep it.”
The word “abortion” just adds to the shame that I feel, so I try not to use it. Some women don’t regret their decision and casually talk about their choice, and I respect that. I envy that.
I’m not that person.
I deeply regret the choice I made, forever altering my path with Owen and destroying our future.
Livvie reaches across and squeezes my hand, her eyes growing misty. Am I going insane? Sharing my story with a complete stranger in a dusty bookshop over wine? Maybe I am. Maybe my mom’s return illness and coming home has finally pushed me over the edge.
