Page 45 of About Time

“You weren’t fine. What I did isn’t fine. I’ve apologized, but now I see that without the context you probably felt even more alone. I should have just brought you back to Florida with me.”

I look over at Liam. I didn’t have much of an opinion of him at the time, but now my feelings will always be colored by the state she showed up to my door in over a decade ago after hecheated on her. Yes, she ran to me because things had gotten rocky with Griffin, but Liam was the reason for that too.

I know that Wren and Griffin fought hard to forgive him, but it’s harder to forgive someone for what they’ve done to someone you love than what they have done to you. The best I can claim is that I tolerate him. We’re not close, and I don’t think we ever will be.

Griffin’s arms wrap around Wren tighter, as if past me could come and snatch her away from him. I roll my eyes. “Relax caveman. I clearly didn’t take her.”

He grunts an acknowledgement of what I said, hence my nickname for him.

Like usual, he focuses all of his attention on Wren. His hand cups the side of her face. “I love you, baby bird. If this gets to be too much, just say the word and we’ll go home and I’ll take your mind off everything.”

The bond between them seems to grow stronger every day. There was a time during the first year they were married that I had my doubts, but they have only grown stronger since then. I’m actually jealous.

I’ve loved almost every day being married to Charlie, this second time at least. I won’t say every single day, because that man can frustrate the living hell out of me, but for some reason together we make sense. Lately though, I can feel something pulling him away. Or rather, I can feel him pulling inside of himself. Maybe it’s just that I’ve never completely let go of our past.

Perhaps Wren isn’t the only one who needs to hear this story.

Sitting around a large table at O’Sullivans Pub, I realize that I actually do have a pretty good life here in Florida. I wouldn’t call it great, yet, but I can change that. I will change that. These people are better friends than I deserve. I would still trade any of them to have Donovan back, but I stupidly turned my back on him when I decided to cut as much of Harriston out of my life as I could. Too much time has gone by to fix that now.

I try to keep up with them, not with how many drinks I have, but just staying out. Considering my body wanted to hibernate before coming out tonight, I feel like making it two hours should get me some kind of award. That is when I turn into a pumpkin though, and even Clark’s desire to keep me out can’t make him overlook my yawning. I’m fighting it, but rapidly losing the battle to stay awake.

He pushes back from the table and helps me scoot my own chair away. He does that cool guy head tip toward the door. The corner of his mouth quirks up when he realizes I’m studying him.

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s attractive. I know he likes me. Maybe even more than likes, but I’ve always rigidly maintained that boundary between us. I’m less sure why right now, but it’s not a decision I’ll make after a couple of beers and sleep induced giddiness.

“Let me walk you home,” he offers.

I’m not going to turn him down. This isn’t Harriston. It’s not fair that women can’t walk by themselves at night, but it is a reality. He holds out his hand, and I take it without thinking. It seems, maybe, I haven’t been as rigid in those boundaries after all.

It’s a lovely night. The air feels thick with humidity, but there’s a cooler breeze blowing in from the Gulf making it comfortable. I turn my face up to the sky and feel the need to catalog the beauty and peace of this moment. I can’t say why itfeels so vital, but instinctually I feel like I’m going to need it as much as oxygen.

When my apartment building is in sight, I see a police cruiser parked in front of my building. My neighbors are all pretty quiet, so I can’t imagine who they’d be here for.

I’ve barely stuck my key in the door when I hear car doors open and close. “Ms. Parker?”

I turn around and see the uniformed police officers looking at me with sadness and pity. Before they even say a word I’m already shaking my head. That is a look I’m very familiar with. It’s the look my mom wore when she told me my dad left us, and it’s the look the doctor had when he came out to tell Elisa and I our mom passed away.

There’s an emotional awareness that precedes logic. I can feel the knowledge swelling inside of me, no matter how hard I try and squash it. My knees buckle, but Clark is there to keep me from falling. He finishes unlocking the door while I remain frozen in this in between zone. I know logically whatever they are going to tell me is going to change my life forever, but I’ve entered that phase of shock where my mind refuses to accept reality.

Denial doesn’t work long-term, but for this one second, my entire being wants nothing more than for them never to speak the words they’ve come here to say. I can feel the first tear break free. I’m fighting it so hard that my eyes actually burn with the effort. My sinuses are growing thick, and a headache is blossoming. All of this before one word is spoken beyond my name.

They don’t have to say anything. I already know. Logic is a bitch. Without it I might be able to pretend for a few more minutes that there’s some distant relative they came here to inform me passed away.

“Dead or in the hospital?” I croak.

Don’t say the name, don’t say it.I’m looking up at the ceiling like I was staring at the stars moments before. It’s harder to distract myself with the bumps on my popcorn ceiling.

“Hattie, why don’t you have a seat?” Clark asks. The cops haven’t said anything yet, but he knows like I do that whatever brought them here isn’t good.

He guides me to my couch and the cops take two decorative chairs I have across from it. Thankfully, he joins me and lets me squeeze his hand while I wait for the bottom to fall out.

The truth is already staring me in the face. If it were Martin, Elisa would have called me freaking out already, and vice versa. If it were Wren, Elisa would be on the phone, which can only mean one thing. They are here to tell me about MartinandElisa.

“Dead or in the hospital?” I repeat.

The younger one drops his head, he looks like he’s probably fresh out of the academy, maybe twenty-one. He looks like such a kid to me, and I’m maybe five years older than him. I have to fight the hysterical urge to laugh. Why I’m thinking about Charlie at this moment is the epitome of being fucked up. I can’t help it though. What a fool I was thinking he ever saw a future with nineteen-year-old me.

The older officer, probably someone they sent because he has a fatherly presence, doesn’t look away, even knowing the next words out of his mouth are going to destroy me. “I’m sorry to have to come and tell you that earlier this evening your brother Martin and his wife Elisa were in a car accident.”

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