My mail had been forwarded from my place in Vegas to Montana for weeks. Whether I’d bought this cabin or not, that card still would have found its way into my mailbox. Still, it felt like a bad omen.
Why would they send me an invitation? Why couldn’t everyone just leave me alone?
I left the kitchen, walking through the house—my house—to the slider that opened to the deck. The babble of the nearby creek played quietly in the background. The breeze rustled the pine and fir trees, making their trunks sway. The air nipped at my arms, cool despite the sun streaming through the sky. Last night’s dew had mostly disappeared but there were still a few damp, shady spots that gave the air an earthy, rich aroma.
In the past month, the snow had melted in the mountain valleys, replaced with shoots of green sprouting from the forest floor. Spring was coming, and though I’d been warned that we’d likely have at least one more snowstorm, I could feel the energy of a new season.
Winter had been vicious. But this? This I could live with for a while. For however long it took for Eloise and me to get this annulment.
The wheels of the legal process were grinding at a glacial pace. At this rate, I’d be here through summer.
It had been a month since I’d spoken to Eloise. One month since I’d fucked her against the couch in her living room. One month since that woman had twisted me into a goddamn knot.
One month since I’d seen my wife.
Turns out, she didn’t need to pretend not to know me. I’d avoided her spectacularly.
Her attorney had contacted mine, and as I remembered from the first round of this bullshit, legally ending a marriage was more time consuming than it should have been. We’d gotten married in less than an hour. Yet a month later, Eloise was still legally my wife.
Had she told her family, like she’d promised? No.
If she had, Foster would have confronted me about it. But as far as I could tell, beyond Eloise and me, not a soul in Quincy had a clue.
Still, I’d kept my mouth shut, just like Eloise had asked. I hadn’t told Foster even though it was getting harder and harder to face him with every passing day. The putrid, crawling guilt churned my insides.
This secret was eating me alive.
Maybe if it had been any other woman, a stranger, keeping this quiet wouldn’t have burned so fiercely. But Foster and Talia were engaged now. Eloise was his soon-to-be sister-in-law. This betrayal extended to his family.
And fuck, he was going to be pissed.
Another irony. Of all the people in this world, having Foster as my brother was a dream. Except when this came out, it would likely ruin our friendship.
Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d understand.
Unlikely, but a man could hope.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It could have been a hundred different people. But that uneasy feeling came back with a vengeance. The bad omen. And sure enough, when I dug out my phone, a familiar name was on the screen.
Sam must have known I would have received the card by now.
My heart began racing. With it came that familiar disquiet I couldn’t seem to overcome no matter how many years passed. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Once upon a time, I’d lived for that hi. “Did you get my wedding invitation?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And what?”
“Are you coming?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s fucked up.” Of all the people in the world, I was the last one who should go to that wedding.
“It is fucked up. But isn’t that who we are? Isn’t that who we’ve been since we were kids?”
I wanted to argue. “Maybe.”
“Good. Then you’ll come.”
“I’m not coming.”
“Why not? Did you develop a dislike for Italy? Or are you afraid to see me again?”
Yes. “No,” I lied.
“Prove it.”
It had been years since I’d seen Sam. There’d been a time when our relationship had been the only good in my life. From the day we’d bonded over mutual disdain for our asshat parents, we’d filled a void in each other’s lives. We’d leaned on one another.
For so long, it had just been us. Together.
Until it had all fallen apart.
Was I scared to face Sam again? Maybe. Mostly, I was afraid of what I’d see in myself. I was afraid I’d find the man I’d been once, lingering beneath the surface. That years of distance, years of trying to be better, hadn’t really done a goddamn thing.
That no matter what, when I looked in the mirror, an unworthy man would be staring back.
Yeah, I was afraid to see Sam again.
“I have to go.” I ended the call, then I turned away from the view, stalking inside.
Foster and I were meeting at Eden Coffee this afternoon to catch up. Since his fight last month, he’d taken a break from training so I hadn’t spent every day with him like usual. When he’d texted this morning to see if I wanted coffee, I’d almost declined.
His lack of training had been my salvation. If I didn’t have to face him, then it was easier to keep Eloise a secret. But if I stayed away too long, he’d suspect something. So I walked through the house, swiping my keys from the counter and paused to take one last look at that invitation.
You are cordially invited . . .
That card had been sent to rub this wedding in my face, hadn’t it? Sent so I’d have to say no. Sam had to know that I wouldn’t go, not in a million years.
Unless . . .
What if I did?
What if I went to this wedding? What if I showed up, just to spite the past? What if I had changed?
Would I be able to finally let go? Finally get that freedom I’d been chasing for years?
“What if I went?” I picked up the invitation and ran a finger along the handwritten calligraphy.
Was I seriously entertaining this idea? Yeah. Damn it, maybe I should go. If nothing else, it would at least give me satisfaction to see everyone’s faces as I waltzed into the reception. To prove to myself I was over the past.
That I could face my parents and Sam, then walk away again.
And if I came with a date . . .
A wife, maybe?
“What am I even thinking?” I tossed the invitation on the counter and headed for the door.
I wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that to Eloise, even if one look at her would send Sam into a tailspin. Besides, it wasn’t like Eloise would want to go. Why would she? I was her soon-to-be-forgotten ex-husband. Which meant my only option was to check the With Regrets box on the RSVP card.
My molars ground together.
You win, Sam.
I wanted to go. But yeah, I was afraid. Especially to go alone.
Hurrying outside, getting far away from that invite before I did something reckless like accept, I climbed into my SUV, then drove into Quincy, doing my best to shake that phone call.
Main Street was busy, like it typically was on Saturdays. A cluster of teens walked toward the theater. A woman pushed a baby stroller toward the local toy store next door to the kitchen goods shop. Two men, each with salt and pepper hair, emerged from The Eloise Inn.
I didn’t let myself glance through the front windows as I passed the hotel. Was she working today?
It hadn’t been as hard as I’d expected to stay away from my wife. Turns out, I was scared to be in the same room as Eloise Eden. I didn’t trust myself around her. She was too tempting. Too irresistible. And I clearly had no control.