Page 180 of Never Let You Go

And that’s been the theme of this trip. I’ve been trying to work through my pain without ruining Sarah’s hiking trip. Which means, she’s done most of the talking.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she says that evening, while we’re both on our backs, staring at the stars. We’re at a camping ground along the Appalachian Trail, and surprisingly, there’s only one other couple, on the opposite end. “You’re allowed to grieve, no matter what I think of him.” Sarah thinks that Christopher feels differently about me because of who my grandmother is. She’s totally missing the point. He feels differently about me because I lied to him, effectively rejecting him by not being open about who I was and why I really was here. That rejection revived some old wounds. I should have known better than to do that to him.

“What about tricking my pain?”

“That’s for your body, boo. Your emotional pain? You need to acknowledge it. Express it. Meaning, push it out of you.”

I groan. “Hanging up your therapist plate anytime soon?”

She chuckles. “Come on, tell me one good thing and three bad things about him.”

“What’s that? A campfire game?”

“Ha ha. I’m listening. Start with the good thing. Only one.”

“He’s the ultimate caretaker,” I whisper. The memory of his hands holding my hair back when I was puking after I got drunk at Justin’s sticks in my head. We hadn’t even kissed yet, and he’d picked me up, carried me in the glacial night, held me over the porcelain bowl, tucked me in bed, left water and aspirin and the best coffee ever on my nightstand.

“M’kay. Three bad things now.”

I sigh. There isn’t one bad thing about him.

“Boo. I’m waiting. Nobody’s perfect. He’s only human. Show me his ugly side. Come on.”

“He’s a stickler for rules. Baking rules.” Although I’d messed up more than once in the kitchen, the ultimate disaster I created when I confused yeast and flour was probably the worst. He’d been upset and broody, but he hadn’t let anyone other than him take care of me. He’d applied ointment on my elbow, ensured nothing was broken, and took me off baking duty.

“Rules, barf,” Sarah says. “Now I really don’t like him. Okay, second bad thing about him.”

After a beat, I answer, “He can’t shoot a video to save his life.” He was so cute that morning in the bakehouse, when I showed him how to do a selfie to sell product. He ended up telling people to go grab his stuff for free at Justin’s. Later, he got into it on his own, but his shoots were always off focus, tilted, and jumpy. It was so amateurish it was actually good, in an avant-garde kind of way.

“Whaaat? You can’t be with a guy who doesn’t understand how to make a decent video. Come on, Alex, I’m disappointed in you. What were you thinking?” She’s playing with me, and she knows I know it, but it’s good to be talking about Christopher with my best friend without it being dramatic.

It’s gotta be a stage of grief.

“Alright, last one, and it better be good.”

Good? He was good in so many ways. I wrack my brain to come up with something bad about Christopher.

Images of him flow to me in response. Gently blow-drying my hair. Giving me advice when I was overwhelmed. Patiently teaching me his craft. Admiring my photography. Bragging about my social media skills.

I let out a heartbroken sigh.

“He let you go, Alex,” Sarah says. “That’s a fucking bad thing in my book. His loss, but I’ll never forgive him for the pain you’re going through. There. We got three. Time to move on.”

I take a deep breath. “I’ll be okay, boo. I come from a strong line of women.” The truth is, I see where Rita was coming from. I don’t need a man for my life to be complete. “It’s going to be good to focus on Red Barn Baking.”

“Work will help you get through this,” Sarah says, surprising me. “But don’t you let it become the end goal.”

I take my best friend’s hand and squeeze it tight.

fifty-four

Christopher

It’s Justin’s community dinner at Lazy’s tonight, so I haul my ass out there. Sophie posted on Echoes that I’d be dragged there by force if I didn’t show, and I know she means it.

Since Alexandra left, I’m a mess. I can’t even bring myself to reopen the bakery. My staff is on paid leave, courtesy of too much financial security that I honestly hate right now. Just as much as I hate myself.

Skye is still in Maine with Mom, but not for much longer. I need to pull myself together before she’s back. So I shower, shave, find some clean clothes, and cross The Green.

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