Till Summer Do Us Part(115)

I swipe at my eyes as tears fall down my cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” Sanders asks.

I suck in a deep breath and say, “Wilder just…he has shown me what I deserve while I’m here, and I guess I’m trying to accept that.”

It’s a confusing statement for someone who thinks we’re married, but it’s also a true statement for the relationship that Wilder and I really have.

Sanders looks over at Wilder for confirmation, and of course, Wilder, being the honorable man he is, says, “She deserves the world, and I’m ready to give her that.”

My eyes well up again while my emotions get the best of me.

Because I want what he has to give me. I do.

But I also know he has reservations.

I know he might not be fully ready.

And I know that I’m already growing attached.

Not wanting to have this moment in front of Sanders, I stand from the couch and say, “Excuse me.”





The water laps against the dock poles below me as I dangle my feet, my hands resting on the edge of the dock. Ducks float across the water in front of me, and the distant sound of the camp winding down is behind me.

There are some couples playing volleyball off to the left, another couple out on the lake in a rowboat, and a few couples are over at the dining hall doing arts and crafts.

I’ve been sitting on the dock for probably a solid twenty minutes, quietly crying to myself, when I hear footsteps along the wooden planks. I know exactly who it is.

I wipe at my eyes, ready to be enveloped in Wilder’s strong embrace, when someone clears their throat behind me. I look back, and instead of seeing Wilder standing there with his handsome face, it’s Chad.

God, not what I want to deal with right now.

I turn back around, not wanting to give him the time of day, but he says, “Can I join you?”

“If you need to,” I say in an annoyed tone. I swipe at my eyes again, trying to clear out the tears.

Chad doesn’t get the hint and instead takes a seat next to me, causing me to scoot over so we’re not sitting shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m really not in the mood to spar, Chad.”

“I’m not either,” he says in a subdued tone, any antagonization completely gone. That’s when I look over at him and see just how defeated he seems. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “Uh, things aren’t looking good for me and my wife.”

“What?” I ask, turning toward him.

This is not what I was expecting at all. They seemed fine. Happy.

He slowly nods, staring down at his hands. “We’re having a really hard time getting pregnant, and it’s taking its toll on us. She’s been taking hormones, and we’ve been having sex like clockwork, taking all the romance out of it because now we’re pinned to a calendar of ovulation.” He pulls his hand over his face. “And I thought that maybe being here, getting a chance to reconnect, would help but, uh, it doesn’t seem like it’s working.”

Stunned that he’s even divulging this to me, I say, “I don’t want to sound rude, Chad, but given our history, are you being serious? Is this a real confession?”

“I can see where the skepticism comes in, since we haven’t had the best camaraderie since being here or in the office for that matter, but yeah, I’m being serious. She told me last night that she’s no longer happy, and I honestly don’t know where to go from here.”

“Once again, not to be rude, but why are you telling me this? Aren’t you closer with Brad or Finky? Or even Duncan?”

“I am,” he says. “But you’re the one who I admire. You’re the one that seems to have turned it around with your husband. You seem like someone who could give me some good advice.”

And just like that, guilt consumes me. So he didn’t think we were faking it? He really believed me and Wilder?

How?

He made it seem like he was on to something.

And now he wants advice?

How can I sit here and give this man advice when I’m the one with a failed marriage?

I’m the one who couldn’t turn it around.

I’m the one who couldn’t muster up enough interest from her husband to even try.

“I know that we haven’t really gotten along, and I know it’s because I’ve been frustrated, and I took that frustration out on you unjustly. I was jealous. I was out of my mind, trying to hold it together, and unfortunately, you were the one I decided to take my anger out on. I’m really sorry, Scottie. I’ve been…hell, I’ve been incredibly shitty to you.”

More tears well up in my eyes, and I let them fall, hitting my shorts, because I know that feeling. I know what he’s going through, those thoughts of helplessness, yet he’s coming to me for advice.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Scottie. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

I shake my head. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

This is all on me.

“Are…are things with you and Wilder not going well?”

“No, they are,” I say as the truth bubbles up inside me. It’s the guilt. It’s the uncertainty. It’s Chad thinking that I’m some sort of perfect person who can revive a dying marriage, when in reality, I’m just a fraud. And before I can stop myself, I say, “Things with Wilder are just…they’re not real.”