Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Zach's eyebrows slide together, offering pity I no longer need—not that I ever did. “Growing up, you never had a Christmas tree? Not once?”
I shake my head. “My mom decorated a doorway or two with red and silver tinsel garland, but don’t feel bad for me. She made up for it on Easter Sunday … that’s when she’d hide eggs. But I had to be very careful not to break them because they were our breakfast for that week.”
Zach's frown deepens. “No candy? Chocolate bunnies? Marshmallow Peeps?”
I shake my head.
“Just hardboiled eggs?”
“Oh, no. They weren’t hardboiled. I’d wake up on Easter morning and eventually rouse my mom out of her drunken stupor. It usually involved an ‘Oh shit, baby … I’m sorry. Give me five minutes.’ I’d wait in the bathroom for closer to thirty minutes while she ran to the store, bought a dozen eggs, then hid them—uncooked. So yeah … when I get married for real, the wedding will be its own fairy tale, Christmases will involve a big, real tree, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, and the most spectacular Easter egg hunt ever. You know … the kind that’s a treasure hunt leading to a monstrous basket of jellybeans, chocolate bunnies, and yes … those Peeps. And don’t even get me started on Halloween …” I laugh.
Finally, Zach lets go of his pitiful expression and offers a little chuckle. “I guess I’ve lived a charmed life. I feel a little guilty for that.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I’ve never buried the love of my life, and if I never have to … at least not for another sixty-plus years … then I will confidently be able to say that it was I, not you, who lived a charmed life. No amount of perfect holidays can erase the kind of pain you experienced with Suzie.”
There it is. The look I’ve been waiting for. If there were ever a time to tell him, it’s now. He needs to know I saw him the night that Suzie died. I know what he did. And it’s okay.
“Zac—”
“I’m—”
We start to speak at the same time.
“You first,” I say.
He nods several times. “I’m okay. I’ve married the two greatest women (not counting my mom) who I have ever met. I love my job and my family. I don’t have an ounce of debt. And a tiny house. I … have a tiny house.” Bringing his fist to his mouth, he chuckles.
I can’t help but giggle at his take on life. “Suzie would be proud of this glass-half-full attitude. And thank you …” A little sobriety for the moment settles between us as I wait for him to look at me. “It’s been an honor being your wife … your friend … even your maid.”
For a second, I swear I see a little emotion in his eyes, but then he clears his throat and focuses on the world’s most interesting hamburger again. “Yeah, well … you were a shit maid.”
I snort. “I was not.”
“You were. When you weren’t letting Suzanne braid your hair, you were half-naked chasing your cat around my backyard.”
Opening my mouth, I nearly respond to his craziness, but I just as quickly clamp my jaw shut. Resting my hand on his leg, I lean toward him and whisper in his ear, “I’m going to miss you, Zachary Hays.” As my lips brush his cheek, giving it a soft peck, he swallows hard. I’m not sure he could speak right now if he wanted to. So I rest my forehead on his arm and just breathe a few slow breaths.
He brings his hand to mine on his leg and interlaces our fingers.
On our way back to my hotel, I break the silence just as he attempts to do the same thing.
“Zach —”
“Suzanne was—”
I grin. “You go first.”
“Suzanne wasn’t the love of my life. She was a love in my life. Her and her ridiculous theory about soulmates, not S O L E mates, well … it wasn’t ridiculous after all. I don’t want you to ever think back on us and feel like you were … less.” Zach shrugs a shoulder. “Anyway … I just didn’t want anything left unsaid between us.” He smiles. It’s not as sad as I remember it being in the past when he talked about her.
I’m not sure what to say. Did I deep down know? Or have I let myself feel like I was a little less? Like I had to earn space in his heart?
Zach stops his car at the entrance to my hotel, and I reach into my bag and pause. “I posted a photo of a bride on Instagram a while back, and you didn’t like it or comment. I know it sounds stupid, but it bothered me for a while because you’ve commented on or liked all of my posts. Did you not see it?” I glance up from my bag.