Page 79 of Almost True
What was left of that version of me who’d pennedWorking Woman? She felt so far away. Or maybe the better illustration was how far I—this new version of myself—felt from her. I’d changed fundamentally. It’d started creeping in before that first stop in Silverton. It’d grown more intense seeing Nate marry the love of his life and turning right to dealing with the book tour and ensuing danger with Taggart. But maybe more than anything, it’d broken open completely upon staying in Silverton and falling in love with the place and the people and the version of myself I was there.
If I hadn’t already lived through something unbelievable, making a life-changing move to upend what I’d worked for tirelessly would seem downright foolish. But hindsight was twenty-twenty, as they say, and I was looking back with a microscope on hand, turning over every tiny piece of evidence that led to this surety.
I wasn’t this person anymore. I’d become someone new—was still becoming her.
I paced my office and gazed out at the view of the park. Beautiful fall colors beginning to tinge crisp leaves. A blue sky with fluffy clouds and the familiar shapes of the skyline. All of it too manicured and cultured. None of that wildness, the jagged heights of the mountains, the pines dotting up the slopes until they disappeared at the tree line. No little main street. No girls’ night.No garden.
Too much missing here. Too much to miss there.
But if I was really considering this, I needed to be sure. I had to know without a doubt, and I had an e-mail to send.
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
Aidan
Maddie’s message came on a Tuesday, almost exactly seven weeks after the last one. Weeks and weeks of nothing at all, and now, one short, confusing, mind-altering note.
“I’m going to be in town in early October. I’d love to see you.”
Early October. Why would she come up out of nowhere to say she was visiting? And why did my heart start cartwheeling around about it? Didn’t it know it was too old for that kind of thing?
John caught my scowl and inevitably poked at me. “What’s that look for?”
I only blinked at him. He narrowed his eyes. “Wait. What’s up?”
He kept things lighthearted as a habit and I’d argue, a shield against some things he didn’t like to deal with, but he’d been there for me. Through the worst moments of my life years ago and many of the ups and downs since. And though losing Maddie had been nothing like the loss of my wife, it’d still hurt. Deeply. In a way that changed me.
And that hurt and change still felt new. I didn’t really remember how to deal with someone who was still alive, as messed up as that sounded. How could I stand to know she was out there walking around, living her life? How did people handle that?
When I thought about it, really drilled down to the fact that I’d loved her and let her go—hadn’t even fought her leaving—the more like a coward I felt. Who does that? Who just lets the woman he loveswalk away?So what if our lives didn’t fit inanyway? So what if I had nothing to offer her and I couldn’t move to be with her because I would never endanger the stability that living in Silverton with relatives and friends who’d known us all our lives, and had known Viv, too, provided us.
All that aside, how could I let her leave without even saying I wanted to try… something. Anything.
I’d convinced myself it would’ve been too much. Maybe it would’ve, but would it have changed anything about this moment if it had? If she’d still left, or stayed away, I’d still be here, by myself, trying to feel less miserable than I did.
“Maddie said she’s coming to town in October. Wants to see me.” I avoided his gaze, but my eyes jumped back to him when I heard him grunt.
“Yeah, like that’s happening.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.
“Why wouldn’t I see her?” I asked, just the thought of missing a chance making me feel wretched while the thought of seeing her and saying goodbye again, or feeling the stark change I knew had taken place between us in the last months come between us in person, had the same effect.
He studied me, clearly perplexed. He glanced around at the nearby tables as though to make sure no one was listening. They were packed this morning—good for Sadie. The popularity of Rise and Shine and her Loaf of the Month club had only grown in the last year.
That said, I didn’t want people listening in, and they absolutely were. Fortunately, it was mostly locals who were both nosy and less likely to sell a story about me and Maddie to the papers.
“You wouldn’t see her because she’s been acting like Silverton got wiped off the map the day she blew out of town. She’s been acting like nothing really matters all that much except her own convenience, and like you should do whatever she wants.” Face hard, he frowned at me like I should know better than to even think of it.
“True. But I think—”
“No. Seriously, no. Why would you do that to yourself?” His visible frustration seemed to multiply.
I nudged my coffee cup a few inches away, frustration and a familiar twinge of embarrassment hitting. “I suppose because I love her.”
His jaw flexed and he stood, reaching out a hand to me. I took it and he pulled me out of my chair, brought me close, and patted my back with his other hand. The familiar gesture had turned conciliatory, as though he wanted to make peace, but didn’t have the words to allow for it in this situation.
Part of me understood his anger. I felt a bit of it myself. Where was my self-respect? Where was my pride?
But that’s the thing about love. It doesn’t prioritize pride. It shouldn’t be the cause of self-disrespect, of course. But that wasn’t an issue here.
