“‘A million things’, trust me I remember.” I laugh mirthlessly. “You regret it, whatever, but you can drop the self-serving martyr act because I’m the one! I’m the one who was crying myself to sleep while you moved on to someone else.”
“That’s not how it wa—” His words cleave at the sound of the elevator chime. Our attention shifts as the doors open to an elderly couple waiting to board. Connor holds the doors open and I step off first, smiling at the couple as I pass them and make for the hall.
When we get to our door, I dig blindly through the pool bag for the room key. Connor moves in, key card in hand, and unlocks the door. Infuriated—and petty, apparently—I roll my eyes and stomp into the room.
I drop the bag on the ground and toss my sunglasses on the entry table. The door clicks shut behind me and I spin on my heels to face him.
“You were saying?” he prods, dropping his glasses and keycard on the table next to my things.
“You are not a martyr.”
“I’m not a martyr. I know that, but for all the things I’ve done wrong, itismore complicated than you know.”
I school my expression into neutrality. His subsequent silence sends my blood from a simmer to a full boil. “I’m sorry, are you keeping me in the dark on these complications because you think I’m still some sixteen-year-old kid who needs her big brother and his best friend to make decisions for her or are youtryingto patronize me? News flash: I’m a big girl now.”
He drags a palm over the stress lines on his forehead.
“No! You don’t get to act like this is putting you out. I’ve spent three years thinking that kiss was you taking pity on me, or maybe I did something wrong to make you not want me, to make you cut ties without telling me, and now I find out that I’ve been kept in the dark for, what, six years? More than that? No. You owe me an explanation. So please, enlighten me on these complications you speak of.”
I cross my arms in defiance. When his shoulders sink along with his eyes, I know what’s coming.
Tears threaten at the edges of my vision. I repress the fear that tells me to run, to avoid difficult conversations and I brace myself for the truth I’ve waited three years to hear.
The first tear falls. “Start at the beginning.”
Connor
This whole time I’ve been telling myself I was waiting forherto be ready. That as soon as she was ready to hear what I have to say, I would be prepared. But her eyes are crinkled at the edges in pain. Tears slide down her cheeks. And my confession only stands to make it worse.
The truth is, I’ve avoided this conversation as much as she has. My reasons are different from hers, but it’s avoidance no matter how you slice it. The thrill of being near her, the high of being able to touch her—all of it has been a bittersweet distraction from the ugly truth that I owe her.
There’s so much I need to explain, to help her understand. Even more to apologize for.
I start at the beginning. I tell her everything, never letting myself look away because every tear that slides down those cheeks is a reminder thatIdid this. This is what I deserve.
My punishment.
My penance.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE REHEARSAL DINNER
Connor
three years ago
Gretchen
Someone tell my brother that weddings are supposed to be fun.
And by someone, I mean you!
I smilelike a fool as I settle into the driver’s seat. Before I put the car in gear, I shoot off a reply.
Me
No can do. He’s making me wear a suit and tie tonight and a tuxedo tomorrow. No fun to be had here.
