“We did live all over, and we were only there for about four years. Nowhere near Bar Harbor, though.” He reaches the hand from my shoulder to scratch Jonah’s ears. “Good dog, huh?”
“He is.”
“A sweet boy for my sweet girl.”
I close my eyes again and rest against Chris. I absolutely adore him. “I’m kinda drunk, and I have to go to sleep, but first I have to tell you a secret.”
I feel him laugh lightly. “Okay, go.”
“You can’t tell anybody.”
“I promise.”
“I tried to run a marathon this year. Actually two.”
“Yeah? That’s amazing.”
“I saidtried. I can’t do it. I can do a half marathon, but not a whole fucking one. I tried one outside of Boston last October and one in Virginia in March. I wanted to qualify for the Boston Marathon. That’s the one I want, and I can’t get it. I suck.”
“You don’t suck. I think you’re amazing for even trying.”
“I can’t do the speed, I can’t do the distance. I’m not cut out to be a runner. I make myself get out there anyway, but I’m no good.”
Chris smoothes back my hair. “You’re more than good.”
“Don’t tell anyone. It’s embarrassing.”
“I won’t tell.”
“And another thing. I’m glad you didn’t get married. Even though part of me understood, I am mad at you, and I think you’re a dick, but I’m still glad that there was no wedding. But I’m sorry if you’re upset and if today was supposed to be a good thing for you.”
“I’m relieved.”
“If I weren’t so boozed to the nines, I’d think of something smarter to say.” I inhale deeply. “I missed you. I should be embarrassed to tell you that, but I don’t care. I missed you so much, Chris.”
“I missed you, too, Blythe. Get some sleep.”
I touch my fingers to the necklace of silver letters that rests against the top of my chest. “This is all sorts of fucked up.”
“I know, baby. I know. But the best kind of fucked up.”
27
FROM ANY DISTANCE
“WHAT DO YOUmean, there isn’t a Starbucks in Ellsworth?” I feel like I might cry. I have a headache, and I am completely weirded out that we’re arriving by caravan into Bar Harbor. I rub my eyes and yawn.
Ellsworth is the last substantial town before Mt. Desert Island, where Bar Harbor reigns as one of Maine’s most coveted vacation spots. The town has plenty of shops with everything we might need, but the prices are outrageous. That’s why we stop and load up on groceries and general house supplies in Ellsworth. I’m sure we look like a weird motley crew with everyone except James and me in formal wear.
As we drive out of Ellsworth with the shopping done, I realize that I’m a little nervous about what state the house is going to be in. Last week, I’d ordered sheets, towels, pots and pans, general kitchen supplies, and all that boring but essential stuff, and had them shipped to the house. The caretaker was kind enough to make sure everything arrived. As for actual furnishings, they came with the house, and I just hope that nothing is moth-infested and gross.
“If I don’t get a coffee soon, there is a good chance that I’ll die.”
“They had coffee brewed at the market,” James points out.
“Not that shit! Real coffee.” I am battling a hangover. Or I may still be tipsy.
Sabin reaches back and pats my knee. “A coffee you will have.”
