Page 70 of My Sweetest Agony
Spill.
That’s what I did that night at the beach.
I poured out Drew’s ashes into the ocean and then dumped a tsunami of pain and grief squarely on Cam’s lap. It overtook me so hard and so fast that it was impossible to stop it, and I let it drag me somewhere I had no business going. No matter how good it felt.
Grabbing Marlo’s elbow, I lead her toward the back of the greenhouse, well away from prying eyes and ears.
She waggles her eyebrows. “Oooh, privacy! This must be juicy.”
I scowl at her, and when we finally make it to our workspace, I release her arm, lean against the table, and heave out an annoyed sigh. “I need you to promise me no judgment.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen, and she grins. “This is juicy.”
She has no idea.
This is the kind of thing that ruins relationships and splits apart families, and I let it happen. I pushed for it when Cam was clearly torn and trying to do the right thing by stopping it.
If Nancy knew…
My stomach turns at the thought that I might lose her from my life when I need her in it so desperately.
And I don’t even know where to start explaining everything that went down to Marlo without it sounding as awful and wrong as it actually was. Maybe there isn’t any way to temper it. Maybe blurting out the ugly truth is the only way to move past this massive boulder of guilt and dread that seems to have blocked my path forward.
“You know that I went and spread Drew’s ashes.”
She nods. “Yeah.”
That’s all she knows.
I intentionally kept the details to a minimum and only told her I drove out to the beach where he proposed and spread the ashes because it was time.
Telling her anything else would have opened the door to questions I wasn’t prepared to even think about, let alone answer.
Ones I’m not prepared to answer even now.
But keeping all this turmoil welled up inside will eventually do more harm than good. Deep down, I know that. It’s just a matter of convincing myself that accepting Marlo’s reaction and potential reproach might be worth it to get the release of what’s festering inside me.
I chew on my bottom lip, pushing off the table and pacing as I twist my hands in front of me, trying to get the feel of Cam’s thick hair off them, to get them to stop tingling, wanting to delve into it again. “Well, I didn’t go alone.”
“Nancy?” Her eyes widen when I shake my head. “Cam?”
Nodding, I tug out my ponytail and run my hands through my hair. My entire body vibrates with an anxiety built of a volatile concoction of regret, confusion, and need I still feel even days later. “We drove to the shore on his motorcycle.”
“You what?”
I pressed my body against his for hours, held his hand, cried in his arms…
And that was only the beginning.
Yet, I find it more difficult to get those words out than I had imagined it would be. Talking to Marlo has always been a way to unwind and get things off my chest. This is different, though.
The guilt over what we did weighs ten times as much as anything else I’ve ever experienced. So heavy that it’s a constant weight crushing me. Making it impossible to take another step. Impossible to move forward, day after day, pretending it didn’t happen.
“I wasn’t exactly sure how to tell you…”
Without completely breaking down.
She gapes at me. “What do you mean? Exactly like you just did. When did you two do this?”
