I was broken.
I removed myself from her warmth and sat up on the edge of the bed. My hands gripped the sides of the mattress. The sheets wrinkled with her every move. She sat up on the other side of the bed, her hands gripped to the sides of the mattress. Our backs faced one another, but I swore I could still feel her heartbeats.
“What’s wrong with us?” she whispered.
My fingers brushed against my temple and I sighed. “Everything.”
“Was today one of the big moments?” she asked.
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Jamie’s birthday.”
She chuckled. I turned around to see her wiping tears away. “I thought so.” She stood up, slid on her panties, and tossed on her bra.
“How did you know?”
She moved over to me and stood between my legs. Her eyes studied my stare, and her fingers combed through my wild hair. She placed her hand against my chest, finding my rapid heartbeats. Her lips lay against mine, not kissing me, but feeling my breaths. “Because I could really feel how much you longed for her. In those stormy eyes I could see how disappointed you were that I wasn’t her.”
“Elizabeth,” I said, feeling guilty.
She shook her head and pulled away from me. “It’s okay,” she promised. She picked up her T-shirt and tossed it onto her small frame. She slid her pajama shorts up her legs and walked over to my window to leave. “Because I’m guessing you could see how disappointed I was that you weren’t him, too.”
“We should probably stop doing this,” I said as she walked over to her window.
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and smiled. “Yeah, probably.” She climbed into her house and gave me a sly grin. “But we probably won’t anyway. Because I think we’re both a bit addicted to the past. I’ll see you later.”
I fell backward onto my bed and groaned, because I knew she was right.
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth
“So you’re seeing that Tristan Cole guy, huh?” Marybeth asked at the book club meeting.
I arched an eyebrow as I held Little Women in my grip. “What?”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be shy about it. Everyone in the neighborhood has seen the two of you hanging out. And don’t worry, you can tell us all about it. This is a safe place,” Susan promised.
Yeah right.
“He just cuts my grass. We hardly know each other.”
“Is that why I saw you climbing out of his bedroom window at one in the morning the other night? Because he was cutting the grass?” asked a woman I’d never even spoken to.
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Dana. I’m new to the neighborhood.”
It took everything in me to not roll my eyes. She would fit right in.
“So is that true? Were you climbing out of his window? I told Dana I didn’t believe it because you just lost your husband and it would be insulting to his memory for you to already be moving on with another man,” Marybeth explained. “It would be like a slap in the face of your marriage. Almost as if your vows were only written in sand and not in your heart.”
My stomach twisted in knots. “Maybe we should talk about the novel,” I offered.
But they kept asking me questions. Questions I didn’t have answers to. Questions I didn’t want to answer. The night went on and on, and it all felt like slow motion. When the end of the night came, I couldn’t have been happier.
“Okay, bye, ladies!” Susan said, waving to Emma and me as we left her house. “Remember, in two weeks make sure you’ve read Fifty Shades of Grey! And bring notes!”
I waved goodbye to everyone. By the end of the night, we hadn’t spoken one word about Little Women, but I felt extremely belittled by these women.
August 23rd.
It was just a date to most people, but to me, it was more.
Steven’s birthday.
One of the big moments.
I was supposed to be better at the big moments. The little moments were what were supposed to hurt me the most.
I leaned against the tree in my backyard and looked up at the bright sky, the sunrays shining overhead. Emma was playing with Zeus in the small plastic swimming pool I’d bought her, and Tristan was working outside his shed building a dining room table.
Out of nowhere, a white feather came floating past me. A small, tiny feather that somehow stung my soul. An overwhelming feeling of loss flew through me as I hit the palm of my hand against my head repeatedly. My heart was pounding against my chest as memories of Steven came flooding in, suffocating me, drowning me. I couldn’t breathe as I slapped myself repeatedly and slid down the tree trunk, my body shaking uncontrollably. “I’m sorry,” I cried, to myself. To Steven. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…” I howled, shutting my eyes.