Page 11 of The Wrong Heart

Their responses disintegrate into background noise and static almost instantly. Their words are secondary to the sound of my blood pumping through sullied veins, a cruel and constant reminder of the fact that he is gone and I’m still here. Charlie should be next to me, his arm draped protectively around my waist as he talks sports with West and sips on a craft beer. He’d be deep in conversation right now, fully engaged, and yet his true focus would somehow still be on me.

Fingers dancing along my hipbone. Ankle crisscrossing with mine beneath the table. An unspoken “I love you” filtering into my ear, the affection palpable.

I realize I’m smiling and bobbing my head at Alex, watching his lips move, his hands waving animatedly. To him, I’m fully engaged.

But I haven’t heard a word he’s said—my true focus is elsewhere.

“Anyway, you look great, Melody. It’s nice to see you out.”

Alex’s words finally break through my barrier, causing me to blink. I clear my throat. “Thank you. I’ve been so busy lately with the business, it’s hard to find time to socialize.”

“I feel you. Dad life is a bit of a fun-sucker.”

So is grief.

Shane cuts in, his blue-gray eyes pinned on me. “You do look good.”

For some reason, I glance at Leah, as if he’s speaking to the wrong person.

Leah’s smile is more genuine, her laugh a little louder, her clothes fashionable and figure-flattering. She’s a vision, and I’m a blur. I never used to fade into the background, but my extroverted personality has dwindled over the last year. It’s been chipped away by scalpels and spears, leaving me feeling small.

But the smaller I get, the easier it is for me to hide, so I’m content with that for now.

Leah wiggles her eyebrows at me, almost like permission. Permission to accept this compliment. I duck my head, shifting my attention back to Shane. “Thanks.”

God, who am I?

Where did I go?

I used to be funny. Witty. Chatty.

Now I’m just a shell of my former self, spewing out lackluster words and robotic replies.

My fingers curl around the beer that’s been placed in front of me, gripping hard, and I know exactly where I am.

I’m still doubled over in the middle of that downtown street, sobbing beneath rainclouds and a sunless sky, my arms full and heavy, my heart wilting.

The bitter taste of beer coats my tongue as my gaze flicks back to Shane. He’s still staring at me, and he’s staring in a way that’s unfamiliar. West’s friends have always looked at me the same way for as long as I’ve known them.

As Charlie’s wife.

But Shane’s eyes tell a different story now, and I suppose that’s because myownstory has changed. There’s been a plot twist.

I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious, drab and unkempt, so I skim unpainted fingernails through my white-blonde hair that hangs around my shoulders in long, knotted strands.

Why isn’t he staring at Leah?

She’s gorgeous and exotic, with mocha skin and eyes spun with copper and gold. She giggles at something my brother says, and her laughter sounds like music. A symphony, or an orchestra.

I am nothing but bagpipes and sad violins.

It takes a moment for me to realize she’s speaking to me, and when I do, those striking copper eyes soften with worry.

“You okay, babe?” Leah removes her feet from West’s lap and twists around in her chair to fully face me. “Bathroom break?”

“Sure.”

Shane pulls his attention off me as Alex goes on a tangent about co-sleeping. West looks as if he’s about to stand to join us, to make sure I’m reallyokay, but I shake my head with a tight-lipped smile, assuring him I’m fine.

---