The Rehearsals

by Annette Christie

  As he was reciting the vows in his head, he could practically see her swatting him, accusing him of being cheesy, and then wiping away tears. The vows were perfect for Megs, just as she was perfect for him.

  Or as they’d once believed they were perfect for each other. He’d believed.

  Now he wondered if he’d been holding her back all this time. When they moved through adulthood, becoming more settled, more entwined, he’d thought it was because they were choosing each other. But he hadn’t always given her a choice. His life had been mapped out, rigidly planned, and so she’d been the one to do all the compromising. He’d said no to London years ago and she’d stuck by his side. It was all a mess. He didn’t want Missouri or New York if it meant not having her.

  Light rain pattered against the windows. With no one else around, he stretched out his legs at gate B32. Across the way, at gate B33, passengers were boarding a flight to Helena. The thought of Montana made Tom’s chest constrict so severely, he had to sit up. When he straightened, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette standing in line, preparing to board.

  How had she gotten here? Was she a miracle he’d somehow conjured? When and why was she getting on that plane?

  He willed her to turn around, hoping for answers.

  In an instant, she did.

  Tom’s eyes connected with Megan’s. She lifted her hand, clutching a boarding pass, and tapped the side of her nose twice. Their secret code that could mean a million things.

  I see you.

  It’s really over.

  I’m leaving.

  With a heaviness he thought might never lift, Tom tapped the side of his nose in reply.

  I love you.

  I’m sorry.

  Goodbye.

  Day

  6

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Megan

  When Megan woke up, she didn’t check to see what she was wearing or whether she’d washed off her mascara. She didn’t get annoyed when her mother beeped into the room and fluttered around in a panic that evolved into anger at her daughter for just lying there. Ignoring her.

  Megan was in an emotional vegetative state. Staying in bed for the rest of the day wasn’t a plan—it was all she could do.

  She’d tried to leave the island last night and there was Tom, looking crumpled with his hair mussed from however many hours he’d been hiding in that airport. His familiarity intertwined with the ache she now felt whenever she saw him. They’d spent the first loops trying to be together and the last loops apart trying to hurt each other.

  And none of their actions seemed to bring them any relief.

  Even so, seeing him sitting at that gate, alone, had made her unbelievably sad. After their bittersweet moment, a tap to the nose that said everything and nothing, she’d boarded her flight. Stowed her luggage. Fastened her seat belt. Looked out the window at the lights on the runway. She sat for a long time. The pilot’s garbled voice came on to alert passengers they needed to stay on the tarmac while some technical glitch was looked at.

  They sat for hours until babies cried, claustrophobia took hold, and passengers started to revolt in small if polite ways: taking off their seat belts and wandering the cabin, passive-aggressively bellowing about their hunger and thirst until the flight attendants tossed them packages of pretzels and water bottles.

  Eventually the airline gave them all hotel vouchers and Megan ended her night crawling into the sheets of a bed in a nearby Marriott.

  She was trapped not only in this day but also in the Pacific Northwest.

  Donna started ripping Megan’s covers off, yelling as loudly as she dared in a nice hotel. Megan ignored her and stared at the ceiling as though in a trance. For how long, she didn’t know. But when she finally sat up, Donna was furiously texting on her phone, mumbling about her daughter’s selfishness.

  Megan’s breathing sped up. She felt herself reviving, coming back to life—perhaps only to murder her needy mother—when another figure appeared at the doorway.

  “Hey, Donna. Mind if I have some time alone with my fiancée?” In Tom’s hands was a tray with two large coffees and a pastry bag. He had his luggage with him.

  Was Tom not in the loop with her anymore? He’d called her his fiancée and brought her breakfast. That wasn’t what they did. Not now. Not anymore.

  Donna delicately touched her hair and carefully put it all back in place before giving Tom the once-over. “Breakfast in bed? That’s Husband Number One behavior. Good for you.”

  She swept out of the room. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that Megan sat up. “Please tell me you’re on day six too and you can’t take it anymore and you’re seriously thinking about putting rocks in your pockets and wading into the sea.”

  “We could do that, definitely.” Tom handed her a coffee, which she gratefully accepted. “There’s raw sugar and a splash of almond milk in there.”

  “Thanks.” She took a sip. Perfectly prepared. Why was Tom being so nice?

  “But instead of walking into the ocean with rocks in our pockets, why not make the most of today?”

  Megan groaned. “It’s the return of Optimist Tom.”

  Optimist Tom was the nickname she’d given him in college when he’d take her by the shoulders before an exam and say things like “You’re going to nail this. You’re the academic assassinator. Feel those good grades buzzing!” It made her laugh and relaxed her, which usually resulted in a good grade. He continued doing it occasionally after they’d graduated, like when she was up for a promotion (“Hear that sound? I think it was something cracking. You’re about to shatter the glass ceiling!”) and when her mother started seeing someone new (“This guy’s actually going to be nice to her. I can feel his good nature all the way across four states and two Great Lakes!”).

  Tom tried a bite of blackberry Danish, set it down, and took her by the shoulders. “Today we’re going to experience a different day. Yes, it’ll technically be the same day, but we’re going to make it different and therefore better.”

  “We’re spending the day together?” Megan asked, her voice thick with doubt.

  It was particularly cruel that her only ally in this never-ending loop was also the person with whom she shared the most baggage. Baggage she was not keen on carrying around all day.

  “As friends,” Tom clarified. “I don’t know about you, but the only thing I want to do today is shake it up. Screw golf and the salon and the rehearsal dinner. The hell with our families.”

  Megan raised her coffee cup in a cheers motion. “The hell with our families.”

  “Let’s avoid it all today. Try to actually experience a bit of joy.”

  “Mmm…that word sounds familiar.”

  It wasn’t a terrible idea. She wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the day with Tom, but it was better than shopping with Donna and Brianna again. And there was no way she was even considering walking into that rehearsal dinner.

  She eyed the man who had been her best friend for over a decade. Certainly she could tolerate one day with him. “All right,” she conceded. “As long as we can get off this damn island.”

  “Deal.” Tom’s smile was too wide at her acquiescence. She was suspicious of that smile.

  “What are we doing, Optimist Tom? Where are we going?”

  He stood up, put his breakfast on the nightstand, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Megan raised her hands. “I think you might be feeling a little too optimistic. That is not on the table.”

  “Relax.” He slipped his shirt off, and despite herself, she admired the familiar grooves beneath his white undershirt. “I’m just going to get in the shower while you figure out what’ll make you happy today.”

  Once the water was running, Megan took a final gulp of coffee and got out of bed. This morning she chose a different outfit: high-waisted shorts and a fitted top she’d bought for their honeymoon. She put on a little mascara, to define her eyes, and a swipe of bold lipstick. Sh
e shook out her hair and finger-combed the dry shampoo through, opting for wild humidity-induced waves.

  The shower turned off just as she was picking out some accessories. Her fingers grazed the filigree chain and heart pendant. But she left it on the dresser.

  What did she want today? In an instant she knew.

  “I want to go on a boat today,” she called to Tom through the bathroom door. She grabbed them both sweaters since it could get chilly out on the water.

  “We can do whatever you want,” he called back before opening the door a crack. “But can I request please no more ferries?”

  “Deal. I’ve got a better idea.”

  There was the destructive anarchy she’d succumbed to on day four of this mess and then there was gentler mischief. And that gentle mischief was precisely where her heart was landing today.

  Tom came out of the bathroom, hair wet and curling endearingly around his ears. He looked so comfortable, so sweet, in his shorts and white V-necked T-shirt. For the briefest of moments, he looked exactly like the boy she’d fallen for at eighteen.

  Just as quickly, the list of ways he’d hurt her and she’d hurt him replaced that vision. Megan resolved to have fun today—without falling into old habits or letting her veneer crack. “Grab your passport, you’re going to need it.”

  “Where are we going?” he asked, sitting down to put on his shoes.

  Megan winked. “Where they keep the boats. To the docks.”

  “How much do you remember from that sailing course we took a couple of summers ago?” Megan was unhooking the electrical and water lines from Happy Accident, invigorated with the anticipation of setting out on the water. Sure, it’d been a while since she’d docked solo. Gran and Granddad’s sailboat might not have bow thrusters, but it was only a twenty-five-footer, which helped.

  “I remember some charting stuff. Not a lot of the knots.” Tom was beginning to look panicked. “Aren’t your grandparents going to be upset when they come back from brunch with Paulina and find their boat gone?”

  “You’re right.” Megan pulled out her phone and shot a text off to Paulina. Tell Gran and Granddad we’re taking their boat for a spin!

  She’d never actually taken Happy Accident out by herself before and knew this would make her grandparents nervous. And of course, there wouldn’t be an afternoon sail with Paulina and Hamza.

  But Megan’s guilt was tamped down by the knowledge that none of her actions mattered. She might as well indulge this small act of rebellion.

  When the three dots indicating Paulina was responding appeared, blinking as though the response were a lengthy one, Megan flashed the screen to Tom. “Think this is a bad sign?”

  Their eyes connected, reminding Megan of the times they’d broken into buildings on their college campus as students and spontaneously ditched stiff parties as adults. On a whim, she tossed the phone over her shoulder and smiled when she heard the ensuing—not to mention satisfying—splash.

  “That is a great idea.” Tom pulled out his phone and tossed it over his shoulder. Instead of landing in the water, it plonked onto the dock. They burst out laughing at the same time before catching themselves.

  Megan wasn’t sure she wanted to laugh with Tom right now. She just wanted to feel something less complicated than the turmoil she’d been feeling over the past week.

  More than a week, when she thought of it. She hadn’t really been happy for a long time. That was a thought to be folded and tucked away for later. For now, she had a boat to hijack.

  “Unwrap the stern line and hand it to me,” she directed Tom while starting up the engine. “Then take the bowline, push us off from the dock just a little, and hop on.”

  “Aye, aye.” Tom saluted her.

  The marina at Roche was a moderate size, making their escape manageable. Had the boat been docked at the sprawling slips in Friday Harbor, she might not have been such a confident captain.

  They charted their course, decided that trying to put up the sails was pushing their luck, and found an easy pace to motor. It’d take a few hours to get to their destination, but Megan was already feeling better than she had in days.

  It reminded her of the last time she’d been on the island with Tom, three years ago, when he’d reluctantly agreed to take that sailing course. They’d studied together for the tests, rewarding each other’s right answers by removing articles of clothing and penalizing wrong answers by making each other eat the sourest candies they could find at the corner store.

  Out on the water, they’d navigated the stresses of passing their night-sailing course by doing what they did best: Tom was the optimist and Megan kept their spirits up with pep talks.

  It was, to date, one of her favorite memories.

  Despite her unruly wants and emotions, she was more than a little excited about getting back on a boat with him.

  Today was definitely going to be different. And different was good.

  Chapter Thirty

  Tom

  Perched on the edge of the boat, Tom was able to watch Megs unabashedly while she talked on the customs phone at the dock, alerting the Canadian authorities of their invasion. He had to remain visible to the customs camera as she relayed their passport information to the agent, but he would’ve stayed out there in the sun regardless.

  The marina in Sidney, British Columbia, was one of the prettiest he’d ever seen, with a cobblestone path along the seawall, stout buildings lining the main street, and an amphitheater shaped like a shell visible from the docks.

  If he ever broke out of this day, maybe he should consider packing his bags and moving to Canada.

  The thought came with two others that caused pangs in his chest. The first was the thought of leaving Prescott and Prescott altogether, an intimidating yet not completely unappealing idea. The second hurt more. It was the reality of a life without Megs.

  Funny how just a few days ago he was having doubts about them, regretting all the women he hadn’t had an opportunity to date. And now, with freedom potentially on the horizon, all he wanted to do was forgive her. And have her forgive him.

  At the very least, he had this day. And he was going to make the most of it.

  “All set.” Megs had hung up the phone and was climbing back onto the boat. “By the way, Sidney Marina assigned us a slip on E dock for tonight, so we’re going to have to turn around.”

  Tom could feel himself blanch. Knowing they were living a life without real consequences didn’t make the prospect of damaging other people’s expensive boats less daunting.

  “Hey.” Megs gave him a playful pat on the cheek. “Where’s Optimist Tom? I’m going to need him on the bowline.”

  Tom swallowed his fears and saluted his captain.

  Docking ended up being less precarious thanks to some nearby boaters who jumped in to catch their lines. There were two kinds of boat people, Tom had learned—the kind who wanted to watch rookies for entertainment and the kind who were eager to help.

  Through it all, Megs kept a look of determination on her face. She was one of the most capable people he’d ever met, a quality he realized he’d been taking for granted. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped checking in with her and assumed she was fine. A fresh wave of guilt rolled over him.

  As they walked up to Sidney’s main street, on a whim, he reached for her hand.

  “This isn’t that kind of day,” she said quietly. He released it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She gave him a thin smile, looking up at him under her lashes. “I get it. Force of habit. Just think of us as two people stuck in a never-ending cyclone together, making the best of it.”

  Tom stopped walking, sure that if he let this moment pass without making her understand, it would be a bigger regret than all the others combined. Realizing he was no longer in stride with her, she stopped and turned around.

  “No—I’m sorry for holding your hand, but I’m also sorry for assuming that because you’re good at taking
care of everything and everyone, you always would.”

  A cloud passed in front of the sun, flickering a shadow over them. When they were bathed in light again, he continued. “Your job is every bit as stressful as mine and I don’t think I ever acknowledged that. I was too busy racing my brother to these meaningless milestones and trying to get my parents’ approval.”

  He watched her chest rise and fall, though she continued to say nothing. It was too soon to have a heady talk. He’d save the rest of his words for later. After his discussion with Kenneth Birch and a day alone in the airport, there was suddenly a lot he had to say to her. For now, he decided to lighten the mood. He looked around for inspiration and saw just what they needed. “I’m also sorry that we’re only a block and a half away from a bakery and I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk talking about my feelings.”

  She laughed. A sound that made him feel like he had a jet pack strapped to his back.

  “I know we already had pastries for breakfast, but they have the best cinnamon rolls,” she said. She put her hands on her hips, mischief returning to her eyes. “Race you there.”

  They took off running, dodging senior citizens walking their dogs and boaters out for a stroll. When they reached the bakery, they were out of breath and grinning.

  It was the first time in days Tom felt as though he was finally doing something right.

  The field by the amphitheater was peppered with multicolored Adirondack chairs. Tom and Megs settled into two facing the ocean and dug into their very sticky cinnamon buns.

  Megs moaned. “Wedding’s back on, but instead I’m marrying this thing.”

  Tom chuckled and tried not to think X-rated thoughts about the sounds Megs was making.