perfect legs.
“I kissed her. I kissed Maggie. At the hospital.”
Krystal freezes for one heartbeat. Two. Then she swallows so hard I can hear it before she resumes her task. “Is that all?”
“Krys, it was stupid. I was caught up in the past, so worried about her. I wasn’t even thinking.” I force myself to stop. There’s no explanation that can make this okay. “I’m worried about her.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly.
“Don’t do this. Don’t pretend it’s no big deal. This matters, Krystal. I fucked up and it’s not okay.”
When she lifts her gaze to mine, her big brown eyes are so sad they make my chest ache. I wish she’d say something, anything. I wish she’d scream at me. At least then I’d know she still cares.
“Let’s just leave town.” I’m pacing the length of the bedroom. “We can open a gallery somewhere else. We can start a new life somewhere.”
“You know we can’t do that.”
“We’ll take Grandma with us. Some of her friends moved to a retirement community in Naples. We could take her there and find a place of our own.” I squeeze her hands between both of mine. “You love the beach.”
“What happened to wanting to raise your kids in New Hope?” she asks softly. “What happened to not wanting to uproot Grandma?”
I look at the floor. When Maggie wasn’t around, I didn’t doubt for a minute whether our love was strong enough. How do I explain that all changed the minute she came back to town? “I want this to work. You are so damn good for me.”
Her hand touches my jaw, and the contact is so unexpected, so overdue, my nerves flair to life under her fingertips. “Do you love me, Will?”
“Yes.” I want to lower my mouth to hers, to kiss her until we both forget everyone else, but I’m too afraid it wouldn’t work.
“Do you still love her?”
The words wrap their fingers around my heart and squeeze painfully. “Don’t ask me that.”
She gives me a sad smile and pushes herself off the bed. “I’m going to bed,” she says softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“And then what? What happens next for us?”
She freezes, her back to me. “Do you think she was trying to commit suicide?” Krystal hugs herself and rubs her bare arms. The house is warm, but ever since I told her about finding Maggie this morning, she’s been shivering.
“You can imagine why she might consider it, can’t you? Even her own goddamned sister has taken to calling her Lucy . And you and me…” I trail off. Making Krystal feel guilty about Maggie’s “accident” isn’t productive, and with the tension between my fiancée and me right now, we need our conversations to be productive. Because this limbo is hell.
“When I called her that the other day, I was angry. Scared. It was the only time I’ve ever called her that.” She bites down on her lower lip. “Do you really think the you and me part…”
I close my eyes. “Her accident wasn’t your fault. She was drunk…” The truth is, I have no idea if Maggie’s injury was a drunken accident or a botched suicide attempt.
Krystal shakes her head and watches the river run by on the other side of the glass. “She drinks too much.” Her voice is heavy with worry.
“You can’t save her.”
In the mirror, I see her close her eyes. “Says the pot to the kettle,” she murmurs softly. “I’m just so worried.”
“Me too.” I watch her leave the room, but I don’t know if we’re talking about Maggie or us.
At the other end of the house, I hear Krystal locking up for the night and then the soft thump of her bedroom door as she goes to bed. We don’t sleep together. She doesn’t want us to have sex until our wedding night. Well, our next wedding night. She’s become more conservative in the last few years, more concerned about pleasing her mother or her church or her God. Maybe all three, I’m not sure. I just know it’s important to her so I don’t push the issue.
In
“I kissed her. I kissed Maggie. At the hospital.”
Krystal freezes for one heartbeat. Two. Then she swallows so hard I can hear it before she resumes her task. “Is that all?”
“Krys, it was stupid. I was caught up in the past, so worried about her. I wasn’t even thinking.” I force myself to stop. There’s no explanation that can make this okay. “I’m worried about her.”
“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly.
“Don’t do this. Don’t pretend it’s no big deal. This matters, Krystal. I fucked up and it’s not okay.”
When she lifts her gaze to mine, her big brown eyes are so sad they make my chest ache. I wish she’d say something, anything. I wish she’d scream at me. At least then I’d know she still cares.
“Let’s just leave town.” I’m pacing the length of the bedroom. “We can open a gallery somewhere else. We can start a new life somewhere.”
“You know we can’t do that.”
“We’ll take Grandma with us. Some of her friends moved to a retirement community in Naples. We could take her there and find a place of our own.” I squeeze her hands between both of mine. “You love the beach.”
“What happened to wanting to raise your kids in New Hope?” she asks softly. “What happened to not wanting to uproot Grandma?”
I look at the floor. When Maggie wasn’t around, I didn’t doubt for a minute whether our love was strong enough. How do I explain that all changed the minute she came back to town? “I want this to work. You are so damn good for me.”
Her hand touches my jaw, and the contact is so unexpected, so overdue, my nerves flair to life under her fingertips. “Do you love me, Will?”
“Yes.” I want to lower my mouth to hers, to kiss her until we both forget everyone else, but I’m too afraid it wouldn’t work.
“Do you still love her?”
The words wrap their fingers around my heart and squeeze painfully. “Don’t ask me that.”
She gives me a sad smile and pushes herself off the bed. “I’m going to bed,” she says softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“And then what? What happens next for us?”
She freezes, her back to me. “Do you think she was trying to commit suicide?” Krystal hugs herself and rubs her bare arms. The house is warm, but ever since I told her about finding Maggie this morning, she’s been shivering.
“You can imagine why she might consider it, can’t you? Even her own goddamned sister has taken to calling her Lucy . And you and me…” I trail off. Making Krystal feel guilty about Maggie’s “accident” isn’t productive, and with the tension between my fiancée and me right now, we need our conversations to be productive. Because this limbo is hell.
“When I called her that the other day, I was angry. Scared. It was the only time I’ve ever called her that.” She bites down on her lower lip. “Do you really think the you and me part…”
I close my eyes. “Her accident wasn’t your fault. She was drunk…” The truth is, I have no idea if Maggie’s injury was a drunken accident or a botched suicide attempt.
Krystal shakes her head and watches the river run by on the other side of the glass. “She drinks too much.” Her voice is heavy with worry.
“You can’t save her.”
In the mirror, I see her close her eyes. “Says the pot to the kettle,” she murmurs softly. “I’m just so worried.”
“Me too.” I watch her leave the room, but I don’t know if we’re talking about Maggie or us.
At the other end of the house, I hear Krystal locking up for the night and then the soft thump of her bedroom door as she goes to bed. We don’t sleep together. She doesn’t want us to have sex until our wedding night. Well, our next wedding night. She’s become more conservative in the last few years, more concerned about pleasing her mother or her church or her God. Maybe all three, I’m not sure. I just know it’s important to her so I don’t push the issue.
In
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