Page 62 of You Were Invited
Peter knew about Annie’s family. “People sometimes remind us of things we’d rather forget.”
“I have a lot I’dloveto never think about again.”
“Hmmm.”
They packed in silence again. Annie then felt Peter had something more to say.
“Okay... What?”
He finished taping up a box. The plastic squeaked and stretched taut over the cardboard. “You can’t always plan for when that special kind of healing love will come into your life.”
“You really are your wife’s husband.” It annoyed her that he was saying almost the same things that Molly had said.No wonder they’re happily married.“Okay. But who is to say it’s Julian?”
Peter smiled. “You.” He picked up the box and went to load it up outside.
To Annie’s relief, Peter dropped the subject after that. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about Julian anymore, and some light banter in the meantime was a breath of fresh air. They fit everything in between their two vehicles. Although she owned little now, she still wondered where she’d store it all. Peter assured her they’d make space for her.
I’ll need a place of my own soon.
As they closed the cars up, Peter turned to her. It was obvious it was important before he spoke.
“Hey, have you thought about the anniversary party?”
After the last year they’d both had, her friends deserved an amazing party. She felt sick to her core when she realized she’d almost forgotten about it. “I haven’t yet, honestly, but just tell me what day works for you, and I'll do everything that I can.” Now that she had packed up her things, it would be easier to plan a party.
“I’ll look at the calendar again. I just want to do something nice for her. She doesn’t have much to… distract her right now. And I’d love to have our family celebrate five years with us.” He smiled to himself. “Doesn’t seem like five years have passed.”
Annie smiled. “Time really flies. I think we can give her a nice party.”
Peter brightened. He gave her a rare hug — his body practically swallowed her much smaller frame. “Thank you! I promise I’ll handle the heavy lifting after we plan it. I’ll probably only need you to grab decorations, and then keep my wife out of the house on party day.”
They finished up. She did one last pass through the house before Annie set her key on the counter next to the flowers. Shelocked up and followed Peter back to his and Molly’s home. When they got there, Peter checked the mailbox.
“Here.”
Peter handed her a copy ofAt the Root Level.
She smiled.
“Can't wait to read your newest work,” he replied, winking. He then looked at their vehicles. “We’ll unload the truck into the garage. We can hide your car in the garage and unload it tomorrow. I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”
Annie agreed. After completing their task, they went into the house. Peter checked on Molly, and Annie went to the guest room. She flopped down on the bed, magazine in her hands, and flipped through it.
It was beautiful. She read her article — all four pages of it. Though, as she read and admired the work she and the team had put into it, she didn’t feel as excited as she had when she’d received her other copies. All she could think of was showing the magazine to Julian. That brought tears to her eyes.
No looking back,she told herself, only forward.
twenty-three
When Annie went silent, Julian couldn’t decide whether she was simply too busy, or if her silence truly meant she would never change her mind. That it really was the nail in the coffin of what could have been.
It was a bittersweet consolation knowing lifewouldgo on. It always had.
Just… it would be without her.
Annie was unfolding in a flash-flood kind of way. He’d already been through that type of stuff once, and it meant the shedding of all things that couldn’t remain after the passing of the destruction. In time, he’d learn what the rest of his journey would be, and while it felt like a knife twisting in his heart, perhaps it was for the best. Her tearful goodbye left a deep ache in his chest, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his perfect partner was someone who would stand by him for better or for worse. Someone who would acknowledge his past but keep it from disturbing the future.
He’d gotten a taste of her, but he had to let her go. For his own sanity. He’d scared her with what he imagined was the worst thing imaginable, and her walls had instantly gone up. It wasn’t his job to break them down, now that she’d gone home.
