“She was a while ago, but I heard the back door close several minutes ago, so she’s probably in the back yard,” Bess says.
Dolores rolls down her window. “Will I see you tomorrow morning for coffee? I gave the cook my muffin recipe because the battle-ax won’t let me touch her precious oven.”
“That’s because you rearranged her spice rack and told her only psychopaths arranged them in alphabetical order,” I remind her.
“Everyone knows that arranging them by how you use them is much more efficient,” Dolores grumbles.
I look past her, back at Bess. She mouths, “Go,” and subtly waves me forward as she takes over dealing with Dolores. About once a month, Dolores takes over one of our kitchens to bake to her heart’s content. There isn’t a single one of us who complains, because age has not robbed her artistry of flour.
Their voices fade out as I make my way around the side of the house. The fence has been updated in the years since Wren lived here, and some of the landscaping has changed, but overall, thehouse looks the same. I can’t imagine the flashbacks that she’s experiencing here.
Wren doesn’t see me when I enter the backyard. She’s lost in thought, sitting on the picnic table, with her face turned up to the sky. I can tell by the tracks on her cheeks that she’s been crying.
I approach her slowly, afraid to spook her while she’s so deep inside her head. The wood creaks when I sit down next to her, but she doesn’t so much as flinch.
“Baby Bird, you’re starting to scare me. Did something happen?” I ask her after a moment of silence.
“Just the past rattling around in my head,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I agree, letting my head fall back to look up at the clouds. “I’ve had a bit of that happening today as well.”
“Will it ever let us go, do you think?” she asks me in a whisper.
“We are built by the past, so I hope that it won’t. As painful as memories can be, they’re worth it if not having the pain means that we aren’t here now. What memory is it that is troubling you?” I hold my breath while I wait for her to answer. God knows that I’ve given her plenty of bad memories myself.
Wren folds in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest. “The night that my parents died, my mom was getting ready for their date night. I went into their bathroom and hung out with her while she was getting ready.”
“Did you fight?” I ask her. She’s told me stories about her parents over the last decade, and not one of the stories was about her acting like a rebellious teenager. When I became more aware of her after she was Liam’s girlfriend, my first impression was that maybe my directionless boy would finally get on the right path.
It was selfish of me to think that way. The same thinking that years later had me stopping Wren from hearing any talk aboutLiam cheating. It doesn’t matter that I thought it was likely bullshit rumors being spread by bored townspeople. This far removed from that time, I think it’s a little possible that a part of me suspected it could be true.
I was so worried about what losing her would do to my son that I didn’t want to risk her hearing. And honestly, I thought even my dumbass son couldn’t be that stupid to do something to lose her. The truth was, he never loved her the way I do. That’s because she wasn’t meant for him. I only hope she feels the same, but these insecurities that have wormed their way into my head are driving me nuts.
If I’m really honest with myself, I think that I knew, at least deep down, that he was cheating on her. I wanted to believe he wasn’t that stupid. Even if to save me from myself, because even deep in denial, I knew that if she left Liam, I would head straight for her. Fighting against what we had was futile. We were always meant to be right here.
Well, maybe not sitting on the picnic table in the backyard of her childhood home, but definitely somewhere together. All I need to do is not fuck things up anymore than I already have. That’s a tall order from someone who comes from a long line of men gifted at fucking things up.
Wren’s shoulders relax, and I force myself to be present with her rather than lost in my head. She shakes her head. “No, we never really fought about anything, and that’s pretty remarkable since I was seventeen when they died. They were just remarkable people who would do anything to help people. I had asked my mom if Liam could come over, and she told me that she was worried about me getting off track by being with him. She must be so disappointed in me for doing exactly what she told me she was afraid I would do the moment they were gone.”
I study her face. I think I’ve been reading her all wrong. For weeks now, I’ve been watching for signs that she is pining for Liam, but seeing her right now makes me think that I’ve had everything wrong.
What I really need to do is pull up my big boy pants and remove my own insecurities from this equation. They are only getting in the way of what is actually going on. My wife is suffering in silence because I’ve let myself go deep into my feels and act like a little bitch.
I inhale deeply through my nose. “About what I said this morning?—”
Wren puts her hand on my forearm. “Do we have to talk about that right now?”
She’s giving me an out if I want to take it. I can brush this conversation under the rug and avoid it like I have every chance I’ve gotten to bring it up before. If this morning is any indication, I need to release this before it festers more and destroys my marriage.
“Wren.” My tone is serious to keep her from convincing me to drop it this time. “I walked away from you. I promised you when I got you back a decade ago that I wouldn’t do that. I’ve got to get these toxic feelings out before they poison what we have.”
There’s a tightness in my chest as I think about the next words I need to say. “Do you still have feelings for Liam?” I’ve alluded to it, but this is the first time I’ve summoned the guts to outright say it out loud.
She stays quiet too long, and that tightness squeezes a bit more.
“If you need this long to think, then I guess I have my answer. The thing is, I’m still the same stubborn bastard I was a decade ago. You weren’t mine then, and I took you. If I have to fight for another decade for your heart, then I will. What I won’t do is giveyou up. I’m not strong enough for that, even if it would be the right thing to do.”
The crease between her eyes appears. “Why would leaving me and our family be the right thing to do?”
