Page 43 of Cabin Fever

I search for the words. “Like I only know this one version of you, and I don’t get to keep it.”

He opens his mouth, but I'm not done.

“I know what I was after Dad. I didn’t see it then, but I get it. I wasn't available. I wasn't even kind. But after . . . why didn’t you try again?”

The quiet stretches long enough that I start to feel sick.

“Why didn't you?” he says.

The question cuts, but not because he intended it to.

My eyes well. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “Because I was still hurting. Maybe I still am.”

I think of Dahlia talking about the Dad-shaped hole that was going to eat away at her wedding either way, and I know that I’ve been walking through life half empty. Learning to be satisfied with it because acknowledging what I wanted hurt too much when I couldn’t have it.

And it wasn’t just Dad. I've been walking through my entire life with a Finn-shaped hole in my heart.

I put a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry I treated you that way and never told you how I felt. But . . . I can't be confused anymore, Finn. I can’t mess around with you and then fly back to California and pretend it was just fun at my sister’s wedding. Because it’s not that for me.”

I step back and pick up my key card. Finn stands there by the bathroom door, watching me. I could wait for him to say something, but I don’t want to. I don’t want him to say something to make me feel better, and surprisingly, I don’t need him to.

“I'm going to breakfast,” I say. “Then I’ll meet with Dahlia and get ready.”

He nods, his throat bobbing. “Do you need⁠—”

“No, I’m good.” I smile. “See you on the beach.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dahlia's waiting in front of our mother’s cabin door with two coffees when I arrive. She hands one to me and knocks. Mom opens the door before Dahlia’s knuckles lift from the wood.

She takes one look at the two of us standing there with matching forced smiles, and her shoulders drop. “Oh. Come in.”

We follow her through the door, and the cabin smells like Pantene shampoo and a recently steamed dress. On the bed, laid out flat, is her wedding outfit. A beautiful floral blouse and forest green skirt.

“Mom.” Dahlia leans against the wall and hesitates a moment, then steels herself. “Did you alter Finn’s slideshow at the welcome dinner?”

Mom's hands go still. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her eyes drop. “I didn’t think⁠—”

“Really, Mom?” Dahlia droops.

“I said, I didn’t think! I wasn’t trying to cause a fuss.”

Dahlia shakes her head. “And you thought posting photos of your wedding or Theo’s ex-girlfriend⁠—”

“That one I'm not proud of.” Her voice loses steam.

“Where did you even get it?”

“His Facebook.” She mumbles to her lap. “Well. Not his. The girl's account. Elise.”

“You’re stalking strangers online?”

“Not stalking. I was scrolling.”

I give Dahlia a look.

Mom continues. “It took me two evenings, and I had to make an account under a false name, which your Aunt Bev helped with, incidentally, though she didn't know what it was for. She thought I was checking on a man from her water aerobics⁠—”