Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Maren, why would he text you in the middle of the night if he didn’t care?”
“I have no idea. To torture me.” I grabbed a second pastry from the basket we’d ordered.
“And what’s he doing in Portland? I thought he was in Boston.”
“I don’t know that either. I thought he was too. Seems like he can’t stay in any one place for too long.”
“Well, I still don’t think he’d bother to reach out to you if you weren’t still on his mind. I think Madam Psuka was right and this isn’t over.”
“Madam Psuka was right about you,” I said, reaching for my teacup. “Not about me.”
The woman behind the counter approached with a smile and the teapot. “Can I pour you fresh tea?” she asked. “I just brewed more.”
“Sure,” I said, sliding my cup closer to her.
“So I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said as she poured. “Did you say you saw Madam Psuka?”
Emme and I exchanged a surprised look. “We did,” I said. “Do you know her?”
The woman smiled. “Yes. And I just wanted to tell you that she sounds a little crazy, but she’s really good.”
“Tell me about it,” said Emme. “She pretty much told me I was pregnant. I had no clue. I took a test yesterday, and boom—she was right.”
“Congratulations! That’s so exciting. I’m Natalie, by the way. The owner of the shop.” She smiled brightly at both of us.
“It’s so cute,” Emme said, looking around.
“Thanks. It’s funny, she knew I was pregnant too when I went there. And I wasn’t showing yet or anything.”
“Same!” Emme exclaimed.
I let myself be irritated with them both for just a second.
“She also predicted I would fall in love with my husband,” Natalie went on, shaking her head. “It will always baffle me how she knew, but she did.”
“That’s amazing,” Emme said. “We went there because Maren needed her to interpret this nightmare she’s been having.”
Natalie nodded and looked at me. “Was it helpful for you?”
I sighed. “Not really, unfortunately. There’s this … situation in my personal life. I messed up and trusted someone who hurt me.” I picked up my napkin and dabbed at the corners of my eyes. “Madam Psuka thinks I need to let it go for the nightmares to stop. I don’t know how I can.”
“I’m sorry,” Natalie said sympathetically. “I’ve been there, and I remember how it hurts. I remember feeling powerless in my situation too, like there was nothing I could do. But there was—I just had to see things differently. I remember she said to me, ‘You must be villing to see things not as they have been or as they are, but as they could be.’” Natalie imitated Madam Psuka’s accent perfectly.
It probably would have made me smile if I’d been in a decent mood. “Sounds like something she’d say.”
“And you nailed the accent.” Emme nodded enthusiastically.
“Thanks.” Natalie smiled. “Anyway, she was right.” She reached out and touched my arm. “You’ll find your way.”
I appreciated her kindness, but clearly our situations had been totally different.
We finished breakfast and got on our way. Emme drove, and I spent most of the nearly five-hour ride listening to her chatter on about the wedding and the baby, which best she could figure would be due in March. I nodded and commented when appropriate, but my mind wandered. I kept thinking about what Natalie had said. You must be willing to see things not as they have been or as they are, but as they could be.
I chewed my thumbnail and looked out the window.
I had no trouble seeing how things could have been for us. We could have been happy together. I could have seen him through his surgery and recovery. I’d have gone anywhere and done anything for him. It had been his decision to destroy all that. And with that future in ruins, what was left but the past and the present? I saw those perfectly clearly, and I’d learned from them.
You couldn’t trust your heart.
Love could be a lie.
Friday night, I went online to look for options for a yoga or mindfulness retreat and noticed I had an email from Finn Shepherd. Heart racing, I opened it up.
Dear Maren,
I thought you would like to know that Dallas has agreed to have the craniotomy, and it is scheduled for a week from today. He gave me permission to tell you when I asked.
I have full confidence in the surgeon and know Dallas will pull through.
Sincerely,
Finn
My first reaction was relief. I closed my eyes and took a huge breath, letting gratitude fill me. But the positive vibe was short-lived, because my second reaction was a crushing wave of sadness. He’d changed his mind about the surgery, but not about me. He couldn’t even be bothered to tell me himself.
It confirmed everything he’d said in the car Sunday night. He didn’t feel what I felt. He didn’t want me in his life. I’d been only a thing to cross off his list. Why he’d texted me in the middle of the night, I could only guess. His conscience again? Well, fuck that. I didn’t want to be anyone’s regret.