“Yeah,” he says. “But I’m the asshole who’s always been there for Josie. Which is more than I can say for you.”
I hang up on him and throw the phone down, my hands shaking as I collapse onto the sofa and burst into tears. I cry as long and hard as I did when Daniel died, although the grief is obviously a different strain, more layered and complex. At some point, there are no more tears, but I stay put on the sofa, contemplating my life, how I got here. I think of Daniel’s accident, of course. And my marriage to Nolan. And those years in between. I think of acting and law school and parental expectations and the home that has always been my home. I think of Josie, how fucked up our relationship is, and consider that maybe Gabe is right. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe I resent her because of my own choices. I think of Josie’s theory that it’s all interrelated, that it all goes back to that night in December, all of our decisions and dreams and mistakes from the past inextricably linked. I consider calling Nolan, then my mother, then Ellen, then Amy, even my father. But I really don’t want to talk to any of them, for different reasons, and it strikes me that I’ve never been so alone.
And it is in this despondent, desperate moment that I think of the one person in the world whom I love without condition. The one part of this tragic story that is beautiful and perfect and untouched by regret or what-ifs.
“I am Harper’s mother,” I say aloud, feeling an incredible sense of peace wash over me. Then I stand and start to pack my things, finally ready to go home.
chapter thirty-one
JOSIE
A few hours later, I’ve landed in Atlanta and collected my bag and car. I drive home on a virtually empty highway, then pull up to my house, relieved not to see Leslie’s car in the driveway.
“Hey!” Gabe says, greeting me at the front door in flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt. He looks happy to see me, though not nearly as excited as Revis, who is planting his paws on my shoulders and licking my face.
“Hey, you two,” I say, laughing as I hug Revis back.
“I’ve been calling you,” Gabe says, pulling my bag off the porch and rolling it into the foyer.
“Yeah. My phone’s dead,” I say. “I left my charger in New York….”
“Kiss it goodbye,” he says, crossing his arms. “She’ll never give that back to you.”
I raise my brows. “Meredith told you about our fight?” I ask, thinking that you can’t really call it a fight; it was more of a one-sided falling-out.
“Yep. She called this morning, looking for you.”
I sigh and tell him that I left when she was still sleeping and got on an earlier flight. “So what did Meredith say?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Revis as Gabe takes a kitchen stool.
“She’s worried,” he says.
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Yeah, right.”
“I promised to let her know when you turned up…so one of us should probably do that….”
I shrug and tell him to feel free to text her, but that she made it very clear she doesn’t want to hear from me ever again.
“Well, she’s pretty pissed at me, too. But I’ll shoot her a text….” Gabe says, picking his phone up off the counter and starting to thumb-type.
“What’s her beef with you?” I ask, rubbing the top of Revis’s head, then his throat and belly.
“I kind of went off on her,” he says, still typing. “Put her on a little guilt trip of her own…”
I perk up a bit, feeling soothed by his loyalty. “And how did you manage to guilt Saint Meredith?”
“I flipped the script on her sanctimony….” he says. “I told her that if she weren’t so judgmental, maybe you would have confided in her years ago.”
“And?” I ask. “What did she say?”
“Oh, she heard me….”
“But did she back down?”
“A little, maybe.” He puts his phone down. “Besides, I’m sure she’s way more upset at Nolan….I take it you told her that part of the story, too?”
“Yeah,” I say, still feeling guilty about including Nolan in my confession, though there was really no other way to tell the truth. “I had to.”
“Is he going to be angry with you?”
I shrug, thinking that’s the least of our concerns. “I hope not. I’m going to text him what happened….Just give him a heads-up…I’m sure he’ll understand—and maybe even feel relieved….In any event, I know I did the right thing by telling her.”
“You did,” Gabe says, nodding. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I say with a big sigh. Then I tell him about our dinner with Sophie, sticking to the facts (that she married, had a son, then got a divorce, and is now in a relationship with a woman). I do not editorialize, wanting to hear his true reaction first.