“I remember them,” I assure her and take a sip of my cold coffee. The funeral yesterday was filled with good times. Fourteen people spoke, sharing funny and poignant memories of my dad. There were photos of all the great times—from his wedding to Mom to each of our births to his grandchild’s birth to our final Christmas together—on display around the urn. I have no trouble remembering all the wonderful moments with my father, but they aren’t bringing me the peace everyone seems to think they should.
“I still feel empty. Alone. Broken,” I confess to my sister and lift a hand, showing her my palm, before she can say anything. “And please don’t tell me that I’m not alone. I know that I’m not, technically, but that doesn’t change how I feel.”
She sighs softly and nods. Now it’s her turn to stare out into nothing, but she doesn’t do it as long as I do. I would do it forever if I could. Sadie stands, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “I’m going to watch the sunrise on the beach. You should come.”
I shake my head, no. I think she’s going to argue with me, but then the floorboards in the living room creak loudly and I see her boyfriend, Griffin, appear in the doorway. He’s bleary-eyed, dressed in only sweats and a T-shirt. Griffin is a coach for the San Francisco Thunder, the professional hockey team my brother plays for. He and Sadie have been dating only a year, but their bond is strong and she has never been happier.
“Hey,” he says to both of us and then steps onto the porch. He reaches out to tenderly run a hand over the back of Sadie’s head. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“I’m going to the beach to watch the sunrise.”
“I’ll come too,” Griffin replies simply. “Let me grab a jacket or something.”
I hold out the blanket Sadie gave me for him to take. He hesitates, but accepts it. Sadie unlocks the porch door and starts down the stairs. Griffin hesitates again, his dark brown eyes on me. I give him a weak smile, which I can tell by the expression on his face he isn’t buying it as a reassurance that I’m fine, but Griffin is a smart guy and he knows there’s no way I can be okay right now, so he doesn’t push me. He returns my smile and follows Sadie out the door.
The cottage is filled to the brim with family. On top of Sadie and Griffin we have my youngest sister, Dixie, and her fiancé, Eli; my brother, Jude, and his wife, Zoey, and their son, Declan; and my mom stuffed into this five-bedroom cottage. Oh and my boyfriend, Ty. So I know it won’t be long before someone else is up and in my face. I love my family more than anything. I’ve willingly sacrificed a lot to be with them during the hard times, and I regret none of it. But…right now, for some reason I can’t understand, I don’t want to be anywhere near them. Or anyone. I feel a flicker of guilt at that thought, but I also know I can’t control my feelings.
I stand up and put my coffee mug on the side table before heading inside. I can hear my mother in her room, which is the only bedroom on the main floor. She’ll be out soon. I grab my purse off the kitchen table where I left it yesterday afternoon and walk back to the porch where I slip into some flip-flops that might be Dixie’s and head out the door.
I wander around the small town, still quiet because basically no one else is awake, for over an hour, avoiding the beach and sticking to the streets so I don’t run into Sadie and Griffin. My dad loved the beach, but he also loved other parts of Ocean Pines. The shuffleboard court where we used to have annual family tournaments. The ice cream parlor where we’d often get dessert. He’d always order mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone with rainbow sprinkles, or jimmies as they call them in New England. He used to play hide-and-seek in the small but thick pine forest at the edge of town when he was a kid. This whole town—every inch of it—makes me feel close to him, like he’s still here. That makes me feel better and worse because he’s not. He’s gone forever.
When I walk by the tiny grocery store, Cat Cannon, the owner and a childhood friend is flipping the sign from closed to open. She gives me a small wave, opening the door. “First batch of cinnamon buns are just being pulled from the oven.”
“I’m not hungry, but thanks anyway, Cat.”
She gives me a sympathetic, knowing smile and smooths her hands on her apron. “I know you’re not. But fact is you have to eat something. Might as well be these works of art.”
She opens the door wider and the sugary scent of the cinnamon buns her family is renowned for wafts out toward me. My brain may not want to eat, but my neglected stomach is controlling my feet. I start to walk toward her. Cat smiles as I walk into the store, which is about the size of a double-car garage. There are three rows of canned and boxed goods, a commercial refrigerator with cold essentials, and a deli and baked-goods counter where the best cinnamon buns in the state can be found, usually only briefly as they sell out as quick as they can be baked every morning.
Cat passes me and makes her way behind the counter. I’ve known her since I was six. We spent every summer hanging out at the beach or running around town. I even worked at this store with her, making subs and lobster rolls and ringing in orders for a few years. We both went off to college, but Cat gladly took over the store for her parents after she graduated. I swear she only did it so her mother would finally give her the coveted cinnamon bun recipe.
She pulls one warm bun from the tray as I step up to the counter. “Do you want one for Ty too?”
I shake my head before she’s finished the sentence, which makes her expression dim. “Actually, give me six. If I bring one for Ty but not Jude or Dixie or everyone else, they’ll disown me.”
Cat smiles and reaches for a box under the counter. She opens it and starts placing the buns inside. “Are you heading back to San Francisco soon? The whole town is basically packing up right now, as usual, so I thought you would be too.”
“I’m heading back to Toronto actually.”
“Why?” she asks with a curious expression across her freckled face.
“Because I live there,” I reply, confused by her confusion. “I was only in San Fran to be with my dad. Now…I’m going back to my life.”
It doesn’t feel right when I say that and Cat must agree with me since she just looks more confused. She places the last bun in the box. “Oh. Is Sadie heading back to Canada too?”
I shake my head and watch as she closes the box and begins to tie it closed with string. “No. She’s staying in San Francisco. She’s going to live with my mom for a little while longer while Mom adjusts to…the change. And then I’m betting she’ll move in with her boyfriend. I’ll be flying solo in Canada.”
Cat hands me the box and I take it with one hand and start digging cash out of my purse with the other. She moves over to the register and freezes for a second. “Wait. What about your boyfriend? He still lives there, right?”
Right. Ty.
“Yeah. Right,” I reply and nod, letting out a weird sort of laugh, like even I think I’m silly for forgetting my longtime boyfriend. “I meant solo as in no family.”
“You guys have been together for what? Like seven or eight years, haven’t you?”
“Ten going on eleven,” I reply.
“He’s basically family then,” Cat surmises and I nod in agreement because that’s how it should feel.
I place the box on the counter and head over to the coffee stand and pour myself a large cup using an ample amount of their complimentary hazelnut-flavored creamer. When I get back to the register, the amount she’s rung up is far less than it should be.
“Locals’ discount,” Cat tells me with a smile. She’s wearing her trademark red lipstick, which looks stunning against her pale skin and nearly white-blond hair.
“I’m not a local,” I remind her. “I’m one of the dreaded summer people.”
Cat laughs. “You feel like a local to me. Your whole family does. You guys love this place as much as we do. I always thought that your mom and dad would retire here one day…I mean before.”
She looks awkward suddenly, like she thinks she said something wrong, but she didn’t. I
reach across the counter and give her hand a squeeze. “I’m glad that his love of this town was so evident. Dad did want to retire here. I want to too one day.”
She smiles. “You should just move here now. Don’t wait for retirement. It’s quiet in the winter. Actually, it’s kind of a ghost town, but I’m here and we could get into all kinds of fun. Like when we were kids.”
“Oh, if only I could,” I say softly, handing her the paltry four dollars she will allow me to pay for the buns and coffee. I really am not looking forward to going back to Toronto. But the idea of going back to San Francisco is even less appealing. Dad got sick in Toronto and he died in San Francisco. Staying here…that actually sounds like something I would enjoy as much as I can enjoy anything, which is barely at all.
“You leave today?” Cat asks, and I nod so she walks around the counter and gives me a hug. “Safe travels.”
“Thanks.” I hug her back before picking up my coffee and buns and leaving. The sun is up and there’s a soft, salty ocean breeze. I inhale deeply. It’s the only thing left that still gives me the slightest sense of peace.
I get back to the house in less than two minutes and can tell, as I climb the stairs, everyone is awake now. I can hear them all talking and walking around. I step onto the porch and see Ty first.
“Hey, babe. Where did you go?” he asks.
“Buns.” He smiles, and I hand him the box, which he carries through the house to the dining room in the back.
I follow. Dixie and Eli are drinking coffee at the dining room table. My mom is in the kitchen in her bathrobe, but comes wandering in as Ty puts the buns down on the table. She smiles at me. It’s tired. “Oh Winnie, how sweet of you. Let me get the plates.”
“It’s okay, Enid,” Zoey says from her position on the floor in the sunroom playing with Declan. “I’ll get them. You just sit.”
“Who needs plates anyway?” Jude asks and gets up from the couch in the sunroom, walks to the table and immediately confiscates a bun.
Moments later we’re all gathered around the table, eating buns and talking. So much talking. The problem is that they’re talking to try and feel normal again. To force everyone forward. Past this. Past him.
“So have you set a date yet?” my mom asks Dixie and Eli.
Dixie nods. “We decided a few weeks ago that we’d get married next year. July first.”
“Canada Day?” Sadie says with a smile. “Good choice. And it gives you almost a year to plan.”
“And we want to do it here,” Eli adds. My mom’s weary face actually lights up.
“Oh, that would be so fantastic!” she exclaims and she cradles her coffee mug. “Your father always wanted you girls to get married here. Maybe I can even get those renovations done that we always talked about so it’s even more perfect for the big day.”
“I should go pack,” I announce abruptly and stand up. “My flight leaves in a few hours.”
Ty stands with me. Great. I give him a smile. “Stay here and enjoy the buns.”
He hesitates, but nods. I ignore the concerned expressions staring back at me from everyone and head upstairs. I can’t sit there and listen to everyone making plans for the rest of their lives. I get it, we need to move on, but Dad’s been gone less than a week. Why can’t we just stop and wallow? I need to wallow. I make it upstairs and into my bedroom and I shut the door and fall face-first onto my unmade bed. Tears prick my eyes and I let them fall. They all might be ready to move on, but I’m not and I may never be.
2
Winnie
Four hours later I say good-bye to my entire family and we go our separate ways just past security, to head to our respective gates at Boston Logan International Airport. As my family walks one way, Ty and I head the other, to go through Customs and make it to our gate for our flight to Toronto. The line is huge, which is typical. I pull my passport out of my purse as we wait. Ty reaches up and wraps an arm around my shoulder. I try not to wiggle free as he rubs my arm and gives me a squeeze.
“Things are going to feel better when you’re back home and working again and life is back to normal,” Ty tries to assure me. “Did you return the school’s call?”
“No,” I reply. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay,” he says in a tone that says it’s not okay, but he’s not about to start a fight. I wish he would for some reason. “Well, the principal there loves you, so I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to get you back.”
“It’s just a spot on their substitute teaching list.” I step forward as the line moves up. Luckily, this makes Ty let go of me. “No one willingly wants to be a sub. I’m sure the spot won’t be snatched up in the next twenty-four hours.”
He nods and then his phone beeps, and I watch him pull it from his pocket. He turns away from me just the slightest bit, but I notice it. “Who is that?”
“No one,” he mutters. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as my stomach knots.
I hate myself for what I’m about to say, but more importantly I hate him for making me feel like I have to say it. “Then show me who is texting you.”
He sighs. Loudly. I cross my arms and he turns to face me, frustration twisting his features. “It’s my boss, Courtney.”
He turns the phone toward me and I see her name. I haven’t met this woman because he switched accounting firms while I was living in San Francisco. She could be his boss, or she could be someone else. “Courtney what?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Winnie. When are we going to stop doing this?” His tone is hard and dripping in irritation. “I thought maybe once you got home, after everything with your dad was done, you’d be back to your normal self, but clearly, that’s not happening.”
After everything with my dad was done?
“Sorry I’m not perky and carefree five days after I watched my dad die,” I bark back at him, and out of my peripheral vision I see a woman in line snap her head up. “Maybe if you hadn’t made the last two years of watching him die a slow, painful death even worse by fucking someone else I’d bounce back faster.”
Three more people in line turn to stare. Ty’s pale complexion turns crimson and I don’t know if it’s with rage or humiliation, but the worst part is I don’t care. I reach for the handle on my suitcase and as the line moves forward, I move back.
“Excuse me,” I say to the woman behind us and then repeat it to the next twelve people in line as I make my way out of the line. I can hear Ty following me, apologizing to the people as he passes too.
I make it halfway through the terminal before he gets me to stop. “Winnie! Where the hell are you going?”
“Back to the cottage,” I tell him. I don’t even realize that’s where I’m going until the words jump out of my mouth. “I’m staying.”
“You’re joking right?” I turn to find Ty even more red-faced as he angrily runs a hand through his blond hair. “Winnie, we can’t keep making this work long distance.”
“I don’t want to make it work,” I blurt out, and it feels so good to say it out loud. Finally. Liberating and freeing, which then makes my heart fill with so much guilt that it feels like it’s sinking into my shoes. “You cheated on me.”
“Fucking hell, Winnie.” He’s a shade of red now I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “I have spent the last two years of my goddamn life trying to make it up to you, and now you’re done? Now you won’t forgive me? You just wasted the last two years of my life.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as my eyes fill with tears. I wipe them away before they fall and glance around for a car rental kiosk. I need to get the hell out of here now. “Go back to Toronto. Fuck Courtney, or go back to that girl you cheated on me with. I’m sorry I held you back from doing that sooner. Just go. You’re free.”
I see a sign for Concord buses. I know they go to Maine so I start walking that way. He is still following. Suddenly his hand is on my biceps and he’s turning me around. Our eyes meet. His face has gone from red to white now. Ashen actually.
“Winnie, please. Don’t. I was sorry then and I’m sorry now. Just come home. You can’t throw us away.”
“I can’t be who you want me to be,” I reply in a flat monotone.
“You can’t be you?” he challenges, and the anger and frustration in his voice is replaced with confusion and sadness. “Winnie, you will get through this. We can get through this. Your dad, my mistake, all of it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to.”
And without another word I turn and walk away. He calls my name once, but I ignore him and when I dare look back, just before I turn the corner to the bus kiosk, he’s gone. I feel relief. A little guilt but mostly relief. This is the right thing. He may not know it right now, but I know it. It’s the only thing I feel like I do know at this point.
I buy my bus ticket back to Maine with shaking hands, but the attendant either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. That is exactly what I want right now—what I need—to be around people who don’t give a shit. Or be around no one at all. I just need time to wallow. I don’t care how pathetic or lame that sounds; it’s how I feel.
The bus is leaving in fifteen minutes, so I hurry outside and shove my suitcase in the hold under the bus and hand the driver my ticket. As I make my way toward an empty seat, I keep my head down, which is why I almost bump into the guy standing in the middle of the aisle. At the last second I see his feet and come to an abrupt stop. I glance up and find a wall of broad shoulders and wide chest wrapped in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the edges of some kind of tattoo peeking out of the left sleeve just below the elbow. My eyes climb higher where I find a thick beard, light brown kissed by copper, piercing silver-blue eyes and a slightly crooked nose I would recognize anywhere. Because I’m the one who broke it.
Why the fuck is Holden Hendricks on this bus?
He stares back at me and his tongue wets his plump lips as his brow furrows ever so slightly. It still angers me that someone with such a dark heart is so physically attractive. Completely unfair.
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