Page 106 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
“So … does that mean you’re staying?”
Those words are hard to get out. My voice is rough and uneven.
“I want to stay,” Merritt says, and it’s all I can do to keep walking in a straight line. “For you, for us, but also forme.”
I nod, processing her words and telling myself tobe cool. As much as my ego wants to hear Merritt say she’s staying for me, for us—I think hearing her say it’s forheris more assurance than any other words could give.
“I’m sorry for what happened the night before you left. We made a date, even if it was last minute, and I broke it.”
Merritt makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan. “Look. You need to know I’m jealous of Cassidy. Of what you had with her but also of what you have with her right now. That said, she was having a baby. Kind of extenuating circumstances. Being angry or jealous makes me feel small and insecure. I can't exist as that person. It’s not … healthy.”
“Can I—”
Merritt stops and presses a finger to my lips. I freeze too, turning to face her. For a moment, we stand here, my heart thumping at the feel of her finger grazing my lips and the look in her eyes. Her lips part, and I think she’s about to move her hand and kiss me, and I’m about to forget the importance of this conversation and kiss her back.
But she draws in a breath as she takes a step away. Her gaze moves from my mouth to my eyes.
“Me first. Okay?”
I nod. When she turns back to the house, I follow. The dogs race ahead of us as we continue to walk in silence. Whatever she has to say next, they’re hard words. I’m trying not to stare, but it’s hard to keep my eyes off her. She’s blinking a lot, her mouth opening and closing.
Taking what feels like a risk, I reach for her hand, relieved when she holds on like my grip is the only thing keeping her from falling down some deep gorge.
“I need to tell you something about the past,” she says. “It’s hard. I probably should have told you sooner.”
I squeeze her fingers. “Take your time.”
She’s still taking her time when we reach the cabin, and we sit down on the steps. Banjo gives up his napping spot in favor of Merritt’s lap, nudging her free hand until she smiles and scratches his belly.
“Shameless,” I say.
“As long as he stays out of my shirt,” Merritt says. Then, with a deep but shaky breath, she says, “I was here the day you got married.”
The air seems to leave my lungs like I’ve been punched. Or like I’ve taken a battering ram or boulder to the chest. That’s how it feels.
Merritt was here?
Merritt was HERE.
I squeeze my eyes closed as I feel heat traveling up my neck to my cheeks and my ears. Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest of your life.
Mine was … not that.
From the moment Cassidy tearfully told me she was pregnant, panic making her look like a scared deer, everything changed. A heaviness fell over me like the weighted blanket Isabelle uses sometimes. Cass bought it for her to help with nightmares, but for me, that weight was the nightmare.
I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—let Cassidy go through it alone. We made a baby together; we’d face it together.
No matter how much my parents and her parents tried to encourage us to consider adoption, the one thing Cass insisted on was having the baby. So we made the choice to get married.
Okay, so I let Cassidy choose. And she chose marriage. She choseme. As wrong as it felt from the start, I gave her what she wanted. It felt like the least I could do.
The guilt I felt for all of it was immeasurable. For being careless in the first place. For trying to force myself to feel for Cass a fraction of what I felt for Merritt.
I think Cass knew all along that she couldn’t live up to a ghost, but she hoped.
I try to imagine Merritt there that day, while I was dying inside, fighting the urge to run. Knowing already at some point we would fail, wishing so hard I deserved the hope and excitement in Cassidy’s eyes.
“I didn’t see you.”
