Page 70 of Always the Bridesmaid

‘Are you the kind of guy who would like a long-term relationship now?’ I ask, genuinely intrigued by the answer.

He shrugs. I’m watching him now.

‘I didn’t like returning to my empty apartment on Sunday, after a week in the house in Surrey. I didn’t like that my flat felt void of a presence, warmth, that the boxes of my things were still packed and, in all likelihood, probably will stay that way for a long time. I didn’t like walking around Clapham Common and seeing families and couples out and about together.’

He turns to look at me and we both stop pedaling. ‘All I can say is that those feelings haven’t infiltrated me very often, if at all, in the past.’

We look away from each other again and begin to pedal, moving aimlessly around the lake, avoiding other fellow boaters. But there is a sense that this conversation hasn’t finished. There are unspoken words and I’m not sure either of us know what they are.

‘It’s not the place of Drew, Brooks or Jake to decide if or when I can be in a relationship with someone,’ I finally proffer. ‘But the truth is, Charlie, I have already given away my whole heart once, and when someone dies they never give you your heart back. I’ll always love Danny, so I’m not sure it would be fair to any other man, or to Danny, for me to be in another relationship.’

As I say those words, I remember my dream, and I think it’s a good thing for both Charlie and me that I have made my position clear. Charlie said we were friends. We are friends and I need to remind myself that we won’t be anything more than that.

‘Understood,’ Charlie says. ‘And for the record, even though the guys allowed me briefly to entertain the crazy idea that you might like me even a little bit like that, I know I wouldn’t be the kind of man you would go for, even if you were open to the idea of a relationship.’

He’s right. Grumpy, rude, constantly angling for the big laugh, that’s not the kind of guy I’d usually go for. But sweet, thoughtful, knowledgeable and funny without trying too hard Charlie? Maybe that’s the kind of guy I’d go for.

‘What was he like, your husband?’ he asks.

I smile at Danny’s memory. ‘He was warm, passionate, ambitious. He and I used to bounce off each other, I guess, like a double act, and we found each other amusing. He was handsome, in a clean-shaven, suave kind of way, but he could surprise people too. The weekend version of Danny didn’t wear suits; he wore leathers and rode a motorbike too fast. Too fast.’

I close my eyes as images of Danny lying in a hospital bed, cut and bruised, on life-support fill my brain. They are images I try never to see and I don’t want them now; they are never welcome.

‘He sounds pretty incredible,’ Charlie says.

He’s right, again. My husband was – is – an incredible man and thoughts like I was having in my dreams last night aren’t right. They are not okay. Guilt fills my eyes with tears and I’m grateful to be hidden behind shades as I can only nod, swallowing down emotion.

‘For what it’s worth, Sarah, I’m sorry that the world can be so shit sometimes. I’m sorry Danny was taken from you too young and too soon.’

With Charlie’s words, I can’t help silent tears falling from my eyes.

‘Thank you,’ I say, not able to hide the croak in my words and not able to continue pedaling.

I expect Charlie to say something – like, he’s sorry for upsetting me – but what he does is so much bigger than words. He reaches across the boat and takes hold of my hand, squeezing it as he looks into my eyes.

‘You don’t have to hide your true self from me, Sarah. I know how toxic it can be to keep negative thoughts bottled up in your head, just to prevent somebody else’s discomfort. You’re not making me feel uncomfortable.’

I feel my chin tremble because Charlie has unknowingly spoken words that are resonating deeply. My tears over Danny, our lost life, our plans for a family that will never come to fruition, usually come when I’m alone, in the privacy of the home I shared with my husband. I don’t want to lose friends by showing them my true feelings. I need my friends. Making people uncomfortable is the reason many of mine and Danny’s couple friends no longer see me, except by accident.

Charlie is giving me the freedom to cry and I’ve not felt like anyone has given me that freedom, not even my own parents, since Danny died.

I’m breathing out, making raspberries with my lips as I try not to let go too fully and scare him, but his words have opened a floodgate of quiet emotion. He holds my hand until I finally pull myself together and say, once again, ‘Thank you.’

I start turning my legs around the pedals, which encourages Charlie to do the same, and we move across the water in silence, for my part, just trying to breathe.

Eventually, I say, ‘We had so many plans that we will never get to do. We wanted to travel all over the world. London was one of the places we wanted to visit and we never got around to it. We wanted to have a family and move out of Manhattan to the suburbs. Two boys and a dog, Danny wanted. I used to tell him we had to have at least one girl that I could dress up and take to afternoon tea.’

I exhale audibly again, steadying myself.

‘I look back over our years together and think how ridiculous it was to have spent extra time in the office or keeping other people happy, talking about plans and never taking vacation time from work. I think about all of the things we could’ve done with those hours, all of the conversations we could’ve had, that we didn’t get to. And I wonder all of the time how different life might have been if we had taken a vacation that very weekend that Danny had his accident. Would I still have him now or would something else have driven us apart? Were we always destined to have a short yet beautiful time together?

‘And if that’s it, if that was my love and now it’s done, what does life hold for me now? Just more of the same? The same job, the same friends? It occurred to me last week that all of my friends are moving on. New relationships, starting families. And I’m just me. Still Sarah, but somehow a lesser version. I’m the Matron of Honor, maybe a godmother-to-be, but I’ll never again be the wife, I’ll never be the mother.’

‘Sarah, I don’t know Danny but he sounds like a really great guy and I don’t think he would want you to feel like the best years of your life have been and gone.’

I shuffle on my seat to face him, still pedaling. ‘The thing is, Charlie, I couldn’t go through that again. And if you never open yourself up, you can never get hurt.’

Charlie opens his mouth to speak but before he does, we jerk forward, colliding with another pedal boat, crashing into their side.

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