I peered back over my shoulder and Rev hadn’t even lifted his head. He was perfectly content snoozing, and I just chuckled before making my way over to the bedside table to grab my phone.
The screen lit up with missed notifications—comments on a photo I’d posted from the pig roast yesterday, a missed call from Adrian, two texts from Yvette and one from Anderson that just said good morning, beautiful.
Swallowing, I placed it back on the table gently and walked almost numbly to the dresser, pulling out my swimsuit and tossing it on. I knew if I really wanted company on the river, all I had to do was make a phone call or send a text. Still, my mind was racing from the weekend. Friday had been too much with my mom, with my night of purging, and though yesterday had been fun, it had ended with even more doubt and uncertainty being crammed into my gut.
Maybe I needed a day alone to process, to think.
I didn’t even bother throwing on a cover up, just slid into a pair of sandals and covered myself with sunscreen before finishing the look with an oversized beach hat and sunglasses.
Rev sauntered outside before I shut the door and locked it behind us. He meowed his farewell just as I grabbed the tube I’d used the first time on the river and tossed it in the back of my SUV. I’d have to ride my bike down to get my car when I got back, or I could grab a ride from someone. Either way, my keys were the only thing I took with me other than the tube.
The drive up to the river entrance we’d parked at last time was short, but it passed even faster than normal as my brain ticked through the list of things driving it crazy. I thought of my mom, of Sarah, of Keith and Anderson and as always, the last one on the list was me.
I wondered why that was, why I always thought of how everyone around me felt and how my actions affected them more than myself.
That thought bothered me as I parked my SUV and tucked the tube under my arm, wobbling a bit as I made my way down the rocky path to the river. The water was freezing, so I jumped in to get it over with, catching my breath with a shiver as I came up for air again.
I definitely wasn’t hot anymore.
I hopped inside the tube and adjusted my hat and sunglasses again, settling in for the float.
It was nice—peaceful, serene, quiet. For a while I just looked around, eyes wandering the edges of the trees and the mountains, watching the birds circle lazily in the sky, listening to the water rushing over the rocks and under my tube. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, and then I leaned my head back and let myself think again.
How do you feel? What do you want? What makes you happy?
It was so strange to ask myself those questions, ones I’d never considered asking myself prior. Sure, I knew that designing made me happy, fashion made me happy, the boutique and Adrian and the team—they all made me happy.
And for a long time—so did Keith.
Still, I hadn’t asked myself how I felt about my decisions lately. How did I feel about ending my marriage, about why I did it, how I did it, and what would come next?
They weren’t easy questions to answer, but I made my first attempt.
The first thing I realized was that I felt sad. I truly did, and for many reasons.
I missed Keith, not just what we’d had and what I thought my future would have been, but the actual person, too. Though our marriage was anything but loving toward the end, he was still my best friend. He had filled the biggest role in my life for ten years, and now he was just gone.
The worst part was that there was nothing I could do to change that.
I couldn’t reach out and tell him I’d been thinking of him or that I loved him or missed him or hoped he was doing well. It would only lead to one of two things: one, he’d say he feels the same and beg me to come home or two, he’d be consumed with anger and scream at me asking how I could ever think he could be just my friend or that I have a right to say those things to him.
And he was right.
He didn’t owe me friendship, or understanding, or—though I wanted it more than anything—forgiveness.
The only person who could free myself was me. And yet I couldn’t remove the chains.
As sad as I felt, I also knew in my heart of hearts that I’d made the right decision. I already felt lighter, happier, more at peace with who I was and who I would become. I may have been stumbling, trying to find balance, but at least I didn’t feel judgment from someone who claimed they loved me. I only felt encouragement from myself, almost like a baby bird learning to fly, with no rush to leave the nest. It would come in time, and every day was a lesson until then.
But what did I want? What made me happy?
Those were the thoughts that scared me most, because the answer was obvious, and yet I felt ashamed of it.
Anderson.
Everything about him equated to happiness in my mind.
I loved spending time with him, loved learning about him, loved how he looked at me—the real me—every single part of me and found beauty in it. He asked about my designs, my passions, my future. He loved when I didn’t wear makeup, but appreciated when I did, too—not because it made him happy, but because it made me happy.
I’d never felt so at home with someone in my entire life, and yet I’d lived with another man for seven years. I wasn’t sure what that said about Keith, or about Anderson, or about me, for that matter.
But what Sarah had said last night still rang in my ears. Here I was just months out of my divorce and I was falling into another man. It felt like I wasn’t allowed to have these feelings, like I should feel guilty—either for moving on so quickly or for finding happiness in a man, at all.
And what was I supposed to do when what I felt and what I felt was right were completely at war with each other?
My relaxing float down the river was turning more stressful than I’d planned, so I shook the thoughts away for the moment, leaning up to take in the scenery again.
My fingers dragged along in the water, figure skaters on the crystal clear glass, and I watched them until I saw Anderson’s cabin in the distance.
He was there, working out back, chopping more firewood—likely for Momma Von. The summer would end soon, and he took it on himself to make sure everyone was stocked up and ready for the colder months ahead.
For a moment I just watched him work. He was shirtless, the muscles in his back shifting under each lift and pull of the ax, and the way he slung it told me he was working through thoughts of his own.
I leaned forward a little more, and it was as if he sensed me because he stopped mid-strike, looking up to find me on the river. I smiled, waving in his direction, but his face was hard as stone. He was too far away to make out his expression, but I could see how tense he was, and when he dropped the ax and started sprinting toward the river, I furrowed my brows.
He was yelling out something, but I didn’t have time to figure out what.