Page 17 of The Rest is History
“Thank you for agreeing to see me. To you and – and – your . . . husband.” He drops his gaze on husband, like he can’t stomach the word. I would’ve been offended on Sawyer’s behalf if I didn’t know what sadness looks like on Reece’s face. He doesn’t mean to offend me. He’s just lost.
“I prepared dinner. Sawyer will join us later.”
He does look at me now, turning his body fully, openly staring. My stomach dips. I set it aside. It’s nothing to worry about. The situation is what it is. It was Reece I used to dream of marrying. It was with Reece I came to know true love. We were ripped away from each other without notice.
It’s perfectly natural to feel at odds with yourself under these circumstances. Sawyer talked me through all of it only last night. Don’t deny yourself your feelings, he said. This needs to be done. It should’ve been done a long time ago.
“I – I – look forward to meeting him.”
“He’s a good man. The best person I know.” I don’t know why I said that last part, but isn’t it true? I reach over to take Reece’s suitcase, careful not to stand too close to him. I don’t know what kind of man Reece has become. I don’t know if he might be as good a man as Sawyer is. As of now, Sawyer is the best person I know.
He dips his head, his smile tight. He remains rooted to the spot while I wheel his suitcase to the hall.
When I return, I offer him a drink and ask him to take a seat in the living room.
“Just water, please,” he says, taking a seat on the armchair opposite the sectional.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, empty it into a glass and take it to the living room, placing the coaster and glass of water on the side table to his right. “Thank you,” he says.
I take a seat across from him. He removes the satchel from around his neck and takes out a glass jar from it. “Prickly pear jam,” he says. “Uh, your mom said to never visit someone empty-handed. So – so I got—” He holds the jar out and I reach over to take it. “I hope, uh, Sawyer, likes it too.”
“He’s never had it before. I’m sure he’ll like it. Thank you.”
He rubs the palms of his hands over the front of his jean-clad thighs. “Thank you again. For agreeing to see me.”
“You said there were things you wanted to tell me. Questions you had? I suppose you’re right. Considering – considering the last time we saw each other.” The degree of discomfort is fast escalating. The familiarity is at odds with the strangeness of the present moment. I’m not sure how to feel. Looking at Reece, it’s hard not to be pulled into the part of our past that didn’t hurt.
“Yes. I wanted to tell you that I got married too. Three years ago but we got divorced a few months ago.”
“Oh. Okay. I – I’m sorry.” I don’t know what to say.
“We had a baby.”
My heart lifts for him. A family of his own, finally.
Buddy Carter was big on legacy and carrying the family name forward. It was one of the big reasons he refused to accept Reece’s sexuality with such absoluteness. I’m happy for him. That he gets his own family, even if he’s no longer married.
“She died. Four months ago. She was fifteen minutes old.” The outer corners of Reece's eyes dip further down, but he smiles. “She was beautiful. Just like Julie. We never got to see the color of her eyes. She never opened them. We named her Abigail. My father said I’m better off not being a father.”
I should express some emotion. Cross the floor and give him a hug. Tell him how sorry I am to hear about his loss.
What rises to the surface instead is an old rage, reserved for Reece’s father. The hatred I have for that man, no one will ever understand. Maybe Sawyer. Yes, Sawyer understands. Sawyer knows what it feels like to be looked down upon and treated unkindly because he had nothing. But he chose differently. He used his awful past to build a ladder and climb out of his pain. I covered myself in my hatred like a second skin.
And it’s that rage that keeps me motionless in my seat, unable to empathize with Reece. He stares at his hands. Then, when the silence persists, he reaches for his glass of water.
“I’m sorry, Reece,” I say finally. How can I keep the softness from my voice? How can I tell him how sorry I am for him without wanting to gather him in my arms and make it go away?
He accepts my sympathies with a small nod of his head. “Julie asked for the divorce before we found out she was pregnant. We tried to make it work after that for the baby. For Abigail. But she knew the truth about—”
My eyes remain on his face. When Reece’s father found his journal, he denied everything. It was the first time I truly understood how afraid he was of that man. I denied it too after that, but the evidence was overwhelming. He didn’t believe us, but that didn’t mean he accepted us.
“I told her the truth. I told her two years after we got married. I came clean with my father too. He still won’t accept it.”
Pride swells in my chest. “One day he’ll be brave,” my mother used to say.
“But I don’t regret it, you know? Marrying her? We got Abby. It was only for a little while but it still counts, right?”
“Yeah, Reece. It does.” He looks so lost. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”
