by Rebecca Shea
“I’d like that.” He turns his head and smiles at me.
“So what, only a few more weeks until the wedding? I can’t believe how fast that’s snuck up on us. What are you guys doing for the bachelor party?” I raise my eyebrows and look over the top of my sunglasses at him.
“I’m not sure yet. Matt’s planning it, and since he’s not home yet, I honestly don’t know what the plans are.”
“Ah, well, he’ll make sure it’s perfect,” I say quietly. “He’s a good friend to you. I don’t want things to be weird with you two because of me.”
He sighs as we park the cart and get out on the green. “It’s hard for it not to be weird Lindsay, but I want you to know something. You are my family, my blood. He is my friend. You will always come first. The nice thing is, with Matt, I know he’d never make me choose. He’ll always be my friend.” He smiles a crooked smile at me. “Now let’s wrap this up so I can officially call myself the winner.”
“You’re only three strokes ahead of me. Anything can happen.” I laugh at him.
We finish the game with Landon being victorious. “This just feeds your ego,” I say, shoving my putter into the golf bag.
“I hate losing,” he smirks. “Even to my baby sister.”
“Jerk,” I grumble in a kidding manner and he laughs at me.
Arriving home, we find Reagan in the kitchen, cooking dinner. The smell is amazing. The entire house smells like fresh pasta sauce.
“Smells delicious,” Landon says as we walk into the kitchen. He walks over to Reagan and presses a kiss to her cheek while she stirs a huge pot of homemade marinara sauce.
“How was golf?” she asks, looking at me with a smile.
“I won,” Landon says. “That’s all that matters.” He winks at me while popping an olive off the relish tray into his mouth.
“Precisely why I won’t golf with him,” she says, setting the large, wooden spoon on the spoon rest. “He’s too competitive.”
“I actually had fun,” I admit. “The weather was gorgeous and I haven’t golfed in years.”
“I’m glad you two got to spend some time together,” she says sincerely.
The kitchen table in the breakfast nook is set with three place settings. There is a large garden salad on the table and Reagan carries over a large platter of fresh ravioli covered in her homemade marinara sauce. It smells divine. Landon carries three glasses of ice water to the table and places one glass at each place setting. Normally, there would be bottles of wine on the table, but they are noticeably absent tonight. Looking at all the food is overwhelming and, even though my stomach growls in hunger, part of me wants to skip dinner.
I’ve come so far, and actually feel good, so I force myself to sit down at the table, placing a napkin in my lap and taking a hearty helping of the garden salad. Reagan is a diligent cook and goes all out for every meal. The salad is full of mixed greens, onions, tomatoes, hearts of palm, and banana peppers.
“You know, just because I’m not drinking, doesn’t mean you can’t have wine,” I say as I pick up the platter of ravioli. I spoon two of the large ravioli onto my plate. “I don’t want my sobriety to hinder your lifestyle.”
It’s awkwardly quiet for a moment before Reagan pipes in, “Lindsay, we will always support you and your sobriety. It’s your first day back in this reality.” She motions around the room. “There will always be temptation and, on your first day out of rehab, I’m not going to set that temptation in front of your face.” She takes the platter of pasta from me and scoops some onto her plate before passing it to Landon. “Will there be a time when we’ll drink in front of you again? I’m sure there will be, but it will be when we know you’re comfortable with that, not your first day home. Plus, I won’t be drinking any wine for at least nine months so…”
“What?” I ask, dropping my fork.
“I won’t be drinking for…”
“No, I heard you. Are you serious?” She nods and smiles at me. “Oh my god.” I jump up from my seat and run around the table, throwing myself at her. She opens her arms and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” I whisper. Pulling myself away, I turn to Landon. “Why didn’t you tell me this afternoon?” I swat his arm before leaning down to give him a congratulatory hug.
“We wanted to tell you together.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt,” I say, taking my seat at the table again. “Wait, have you told Mom?”
“No!” Landon pipes in quickly.
“We’re not going to tell anyone until after the wedding,” Reagan says. “I’m very early in the pregnancy, only about five weeks along. Anything could happen between now and the wedding.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Landon says, looking out the corner of his eye at Reagan. “We want the focus to be on the wedding, not the baby—but we wanted to tell you.”
“Okay, personal question,” I say, taking a drink of water quickly. “Were you trying to get pregnant?” Landon laughs quietly and shakes his head from side to side.
“No,” Reagan answers. “Well, let’s put it this way. We weren’t trying to get pregnant, but we weren’t doing anything to prevent it either. It just happened really fast. We thought it would happen after the wedding, not before.”
“Holy crap,” I mutter. “I’m so happy for you both.”
“Thanks,” Landon says, shoving a ravioli into his mouth. “It’s a little surreal, honestly.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask Reagan.
“Actually pretty good, so far. My boobs hurt like hell, and I’m really tired, but that’s to be expected. I’ve just been trying to make sure I rest and eat well. By the time we get married, I’ll be starting my second trimester, so I should be feeling great by then.”
“Good. So this is a good segue into something else I wanted to talk to you about.” I set my fork down and look between the two of them.
“I don’t have any immediate plans for work. I have to talk to Jack, but I’m pretty sure I ruined my broadcasting career when I broke the contract in Phoenix. I’m a liability at this point, and everyone talks. No one is going to want to hire me back in the business. So while I figure out what I’m going to do with my life, I was thinking of taking some time off to just help you with wedding plans, travel a little bit, and just figure things out.”
“I think that sounds like a really sensible idea,” Reagan says. “Take your time easing back into life, Lindsay. You always worked too hard. If we’re being honest with each other, I was really nervous you were going to dive right back into work and I was worried about the pressure of the business and how it would affect you.”
I nod my head. Reagan is right. I worked too much and placed too much value on my career and not enough importance on the things that really did matter to me.
“That’s a valid concern.” I smile at her. “And I know you said I could stay here as long as I like, but my goal is to be out by the time you get back from your honeymoon.”
Landon looks to Reagan, then back to me. “Reagan and I already discussed this, Lindsay. There is no need to rush out of here. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.”
“Well, if I can’t find a job, you may have to hire me to be your nanny,” I tease.
We spend the next hour enjoying dinner and just catching up. It feels so good to laugh and be happy again. I help Reagan clean up after dinner, washing and drying the dishes before calling it an early night. I’m tired and ready for a little quiet time. In rehab, I learned to appreciate some alone time, time to think, time to plan, time to journal—time to focus on myself.
I shower and change into a pair of silk pajamas, leaving my long hair wet and loose. I stand in front of the giant bookshelf in my bedroom and pull down one of Samantha’s books. I lose myself in the romance novel for the next three hours and love every minute of it. I soak up the words that leap from the pages and let myself feel the emotions of the journey happening in front of me. I can understand now why S
amantha loved reading and I can’t wait to delve into the rest of the books she left me—a gift she didn’t realize I’d love so much.
Crawling into bed, I lie on my side and look at the muted moonlight that peeks through the slats on the wood shutters and whisper long, overdue prayers for all the blessings I have and for new beginnings. Every night, when I close my eyes, I relive the pain I’ve caused and the people I’ve hurt. I know the sins I’ve committed against the person I love the most are unforgiven, and that’s my cross to bear.
I’m in a daze as I watch the baggage carousel spin in circles as I wait for my suitcase. The flights back to the U.S. were long and, after spending a month in Europe, I am glad to be home.
“Hey, brother,” Landon says from behind me. He shakes my hand and fist bumps me when I turn around to greet him. “Good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back,” I admit. While traveling alone was an adventure and I got to see everything I wanted to, there were definitely times it was lonely. Everywhere I went, I imagined Lindsay with me, loving the architecture, the wine, the culture.
“You’re looking a little like Grizzly Adams. Do they not sell razors in Europe?” Landon jokes about the beard I’ve let grow out while away. I laugh and shake my head. “I hardly recognize you.”
“Decided to do something different,” I tell him.
“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He smacks my shoulder. “How many bags are we waiting on?”
“Just one. That one, right there,” I say just as the large, black suitcase comes into sight. I lean over and pull it from the metal carousel. Landon grabs my backpack and we walk toward the elevators to the parking garage.
“So how was Europe?”
“Good, but exhausting,” I admit. “I’m glad I went, though. Had a lot of time to think and just kind of sort out my life, you know?” Landon nods his head as we load my bags into the back of Reagan’s SUV. “How’ve you been, man?”
“Great, actually. Work has been crazy. We finally busted the kid over at the high school that’s been dealing the heroin…”
“Oh yeah? Good to hear.”
“It’s been a busy couple of weeks. Lindsay’s finally home.” He drops that in nonchalantly.
“How’s she doing?” I’m dying to know but don’t want to sound overly anxious.
He lets out a long sigh before actually speaking. “She’s actually doing really, really well. She looks fantastic. She’s put on weight and is ready to move forward. She’s got doctors and therapists lined up here until she figures out where she’s going.”
“She’s going to leave again?” My heart skips a beat and my stomach drops.
“I don’t know. She’s taking the next couple of months off to just kind of figure out her life. She said she wants to move out and have a plan by the time we get back from the honeymoon.”
“Well, where else would she go? Back to Phoenix?”
“Nah, Phoenix is a done deal. She really hasn’t said. I think she’s leaving her options open.” I swallow hard against my dry throat. I don’t know why this upsets me—the possibility of her leaving again. “I’m just glad she’s getting better,” he admits quietly.
“Me too.”
The rest of the ride to my house is quiet. I’m lost in my thoughts of Lindsay, and I am exhausted from the trip. Landon pulls into my driveway just as Melissa pulls up in front of my house. “Looks like someone is excited to see you.” He waves to her as she gets out of her car. I lay my head back against the seat rest, inhaling a deep breath.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“I vaguely remember that used to be my line.” This makes me laugh and I open my car door and walk around the back of the SUV. Pulling my luggage down from the car, I give a short wave to Landon as he wags his eyebrows and offers me a smirk. I flip him the middle finger and I can see him laughing as he backs out of my driveway. Melissa meets me and waits on the front step with a smile on her face.
“Hey, stranger,” she drawls.
“Hey, Melissa.”
“I was just coming over to water your plant and tidy everything up before you got home. Wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.” She inserts my house key into the door, disables the alarm, and holds the door open for me, like this is where she belongs. I toss my suitcase and backpack into the corner and kick off my tennis shoes.
“I’ve got it,” I politely tell her. “I really appreciate you taking care of the place and getting my mail. I’m completely exhausted right now, but maybe we can catch up sometime this week?” I hope I don’t sound like a complete ass, but I really just want a shower and a long nap.
“Yeah, sure, of course.” She shakes her head a little, visibly upset. I hate nothing more than hurting people and I instantly feel guilty for putting her off.
“Maybe we can hike on Sunday and grab breakfast afterwards,” I offer quickly in an attempt to ward off any hurt feelings. A small smile tugs at her lips.
“That sounds nice.”
“I’ll text you. Thanks again. I really appreciate it.” She quietly leaves and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I immediately jump back into work upon my return from Europe. Staying busy helps keep my mind from wandering into dangerous places; however, it still wanders every night before I go to sleep. I wonder if I’ll ever not wonder where Lindsay is, who she’s with, who’s holding her, or if I’ll ever hear her laugh again? I still see her smile when I close my eyes, and feel her arm lying across my chest in the middle of the night. Every morning, when I sit and have coffee, I swear I hear her in my bedroom, getting ready for the day. I promised myself in Europe I’d let Lindsay’s ghost go, but maybe I’m just not ready yet.
My phone rings loudly from the table in the living room and I jog over to get it, Melissa’s name flashes across the screen. I hit ignore and set the phone back down, turning on the TV to ESPN. I sip coffee and catch up on the sports highlights before checking my voice messages. I turn the speakerphone on and listen to the message while I gather my belongings for work.
“Matt, I have to cancel our hike for this weekend. I have to watch my nephew for my sister. Was thinking maybe we could grab a movie on Friday night instead? They’re playing the original Star Wars at that old theater downtown that they recently refurbished. I thought it might be fun to go. Let me know if you’re interested.”
The phone disconnects itself at the end of the message. I pick it up and shove it into my pocket as I head out the door for work. Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed and headed into our pre-shift meeting. Our sergeant provides us with updates and our detectives alert us to which people they’re looking for, or what information they’d like us to listen out for.
I stand in the back of the small room, leaning against the wall. I’m still riding solo, and totally okay with that. My beat is typically quiet, although, at times, a partner to talk to might make the shift go by faster. Landon quietly enters the room and leans against the back wall next to me.
“What’s up, man?” he whispers, but watches the sergeant giving his updates.
“Not much. Back to the grind.”
“I know. I can’t believe you’re not taking a few more days off just to relax.”
“Nah, no need to.”
“Hey, Friday poker at my house. You in?”
“Ah, I can’t. I just told Melissa I’d go to the movies with her,” I whisper. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and I shrug. “Don’t ask. She can’t hike on Sunday, so she invited me to the movies.”
“Next week, then?”
“Deal.”
“Take care, man.”
“You too.” He pushes himself off the wall and slides out the side door. My first shift back is actually busy—a welcome change from the norm. I find myself across the street from the theater Melissa wants to go to Friday night where a new Starbucks has recently opened. It’s big and bright and full of tables and unique work spaces. It’s bustling with people for ten o’clock on a Thursday
evening. As I wait for my order, I take in the enormity of the place. Tables ranging in all different sizes from small, two-person tables, all the way to larger family-style tables that hold up to twelve people. Each table has power outlets so people can work and access the wi-fi all while getting their caffeine fix.
It’s there, while waiting for my coffee, that I see her, tucked away at a small table in the corner, almost hidden from view. Her back is pressed up against an exposed brick wall and she rests her chin in her hand, staring out the window. A laptop is open in front of her, but she’s not working. She’s lost in her thoughts. She looks so different from when I last saw her. Her face has filled back out, and her normally wavy hair is straight today. Her lips are pursed as she stares out the glass window and I’d give anything to sit down and talk to her, to know what she’s thinking.
“Sir.”
I notice a large bottle of water and a paperback book sitting next to her laptop.
“Sir?” the young male voice says louder.
“Oh, sorry,” I say, pulling my attention back to the young man behind the counter.
“Here’s your drink,” he says, sliding the cup of iced coffee across the counter at me. I pull out my wallet and a ten-dollar bill.
“See that girl back in the corner? The blonde in the navy tank top with the yellow scarf?”
“Yeah, she’d be hard to miss,” he says. I give him a snide look. Even the teen boys notice Lindsay’s beauty.
“Can you make her a grande skinny vanilla latte, no foam, extra hot?”
“Yeah, I’d be glad to.”
“Keep the change. Oh, and if she asks, don’t tell her it was me. Just tell her someone was thinking of her.”
“You got it.”
I weave through the display cases that hold glass coffee mugs and bags of coffee beans and push through the glass doors. I stand out on the street next to my squad car, leaning against the hood and just watch her through the window. Her blue eyes that were dull the last time I saw her are bright again. The dark circles under her eyes are gone and her cheeks are fuller. She’s still thin, but she looks good. My heart still races just looking at her.