Page 61 of Our Long Days
She preens in her seat, and because I’m a fucked in the head, I drink up every smile, giggle, and blush.
It’s not long until we reach our destination, and I direct Florence to park in the shade of a large oak. It’s hot for this time of year, but it doesn’t fool me. The temperatures in Maine can change at the drop of a hat. I grab a spare flannel from the backseat and throw it over Flo’s shoulder.
“Don’t steal this one.” I wink.
She rolls her eyes, ties it around her waist, and helps unload the truck.
Evergreen Campsite isn’t well known unless you’re local.With no other vehicles around, it’s safe to presume we have the site to ourselves for the night. Standing tall and imposing, hundred-year-old conifers guard us from the elements. Streaks of light escape through the gaps in the trees, dancing along the carpet of pine needles. It’s early afternoon, with plenty of sunlight left in the day.
We set up camp a ten-minute walk from the truck. The plan is to sleep outside, but we pitch a two-person tent in case the weather turns. Laid out in front of it are two roll mats and sleeping bags. It’s a simple setup, with just the necessities. Florence drops the cooler with a thud, swiping her forehead with the back of her hand before perching on the white lid. “I forgot what a workout this is.”
I huff my agreement and unfold a camp chair to sit in.
A nostalgic smile pulls at her lips. “The last time I was out here was for my eighteenth birthday.”
I think for a second. “Was I not invited?”
“You stayed in town to watch Lottie so Patrick could come.”
“That’s right.” I shiver. “I’d blocked out that memory after she had two blowouts in the space of an hour.” I love kids, but Patrick was insane to put me in charge of his seven-month-old daughter, even for one night. Lottie’s mom was working, and for whatever reason, they trusted me.
She laughs. “How is she six? What happened to that little baby?”
“Jesus; now I feel old.” I point a finger at her. “No jokes.”
Florence’s laughter increases, eyes shining with tears as her body shakes. I could be standing in front of a seventh wonder of the world, and it wouldn’t beat this view.
“Not long until there’s another baby in the midst,” I say.
She claps a hand to her chest, face going gooey. “An engagement, wedding, and a baby in the space of twelve months. They really are making up for lost time.” She leans in close. “Graham’s proposing today.”
My brows jump. “I didn’t know. Good for him.”
Her expression turns thoughtful. “I’m happy for them, for all my brothers, but I can’t help feeling…”
“Jealous,” I finish.
She cringes. “Is that bad?”
Maybe it’s to maintain the safe boundaries we’ve introduced. Maybe it’s because the source of her envy is different to mine. Maybe I like the pain. Either way, my next words cut right down to the bone. “You’re not far behind. It won’t be long until you find someone to experience those things with.”
Her face drops, a new emotion taking root, something worse than jealousy.
Disappointment.
“What about you?” She toys with the frayed edges of her denim cutoffs, gaze not quite meeting mine.
Resentment claws at my throat, cutting off my airways. I’ve accepted my future won’t mirror my friends’, no matter how badly I yearn for it. It’s why dating was pointless. Why torture myself when I know how it’ll end?
“I forgot something in the truck. I’ll be right back.” The chair groans as I stand. “Let’s go for that hike before the sun sets.”
Florence is used to my abrupt changes in conversation. This time, however, she doesn’t shrug it off. I catch the change in her posture and angry flare in her eyes as I stalk my way back up the path.
I don’t make it to the truck. My head thumps against the trunk of a tree, wishing the slight bite of pain would knock some sense into me. Instead, realization hits. The jealousy zipping through my veins isn’t from seeing my friends getting married and having babies.
It’s from imagining Florence having that future with someone who isn’t me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
