Wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm, I’d gotten half a block from the hotel before I heard a shout. Sybil waved both of our coats in her hand as she caught up with me.
She draped my coat around my shoulders and pulled back. There was a heavy pause, as if she was waiting for me to fill in the blank. I couldn’t bring myself to explain all that had happened with Finn, because then I would have to explain what Ithoughtwas going to happen this weekend. Instead, I looked down at the hem of my dress sagging with melted snow and swallowed down a sob. Another dress with another shitty memory attached to it. How could I be in the same situation all over again? Besides, she and all of our friends from high school had had a front seat to the shit show. What else was there to say?
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
My shoulders dropped in relief, and I let out a small hiccup. “It’s nothing,” I said, shaking my head and wiping at my eyes. “I’m just an idiot.”
“You are one million things, and not a single one of them is an idiot.” Sybil’s arm came around my shoulder, and she pulled me away from the wedding and all its disappointments.
“Where’s Sebastian?” I asked.
Sybil waved back toward the hotel. “He’s fine. He loves being around a new group of strangers.” She took a deep breath and looked up. “It’s nice to be able to see the stars. Do you want to get a hot dog?” I blinked at her, not sure if I’d heard her correctly. She continued, “There’s a place that’s open late that serves fancy hot dogs. I think you need to eat something.”
I let her lead me through Vail Village to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. I slumped into a booth, and Sybil ordered for us.She handed me a hot dog slathered in ketchup, and a large water.
“I can’t believe you’d rather have ketchup than mustard on your hot dog,” she said, taking a seat across from me.
“Mustard is disgusting, Sybil.”
“And ketchup is a condiment for children.” I wrinkled my nose at her and took an enormous bite of ketchup-covered hot dog.
“Well, it’s perfect for me, then,” I said after swallowing. I hated the tears that prickled behind my eyes.
Sybil reached across the table and took my hand. “You are the most grown up, put-together woman I know. It’s not childlike to want to find your person.” She smiled. “Besides, it’s nice to have an excuse to take care of you for once. It’s always the other way around.” A warm feeling settled around me. It was nice to be taken care of every now and then.
“Do you think Katie will forgive me for ruining her wedding with my meltdown?” I took a much more manageable bite of hot dog this time.
Sybil shrugged. “I’m sure she will. If her grandfather recovers from the heart attack he had when you said ‘fingering,’ that is. Kidding!” she added at my look of horror. “It’ll make a good story. Something always goes a little wrong at a wedding. No one will remember in a few months.”
“You’ll have to tell me what it’s like when you get married.”
“You’ll find out yourself.”
“I don’t think that marriage is in the cards for me. I will just be godmother to all y’all’s kids, get an Upper West Side apartment, and fill it with trinkets from my travels. Maybe I’ll get really into birding.”
Sybil looked at me solemnly. “I would love you, even if you got really into birding.”
I snorted. “Gee, thanks.” The picture I painted actually did sound like a lovely life, but it wasn’t the life I wanted. I’d spent the last few months imagining what a life with Finn might look like, and now I wasn’t sure I could ever trust myself to imagine a happily ever after again.
22
FRIDAY AFTERNOON
(One day before the wedding)
FINN’S HANDS CRADLE MYcheek. “Emma, are you okay?” His voice is thick with fear.
I blink twice to reorient myself as everything comes racing back. Our fight. The crash. The driver’s side door is open, and Finn squats on the road beside me. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Your head…”
I reach up to my temple—it’s sore, but I don’t feel any blood. I’ve had a concussion before, from a nasty field hockey check in high school—luckily, I don’t feel any of those symptoms now. I’m grateful we were going under the speed limit when I lost control of the Singer. “My head is fine,” I say to Finn.
“Thank god.” His hands drop to my shoulders like hewants to pull me into a hug, but at the last minute, he seems to realize what he’s doing. He pulls back, gives my shoulder a tight squeeze, and stands. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“I can do it,” I say, but I wince as I unbuckle my seat belt and step into the street. The car is on a slant, halfway into a grassy ditch that lines the highway.
“Right,” he says and steps back, burying his hands in his pockets as if it’s taking everything he has not to touch me.
