She wraps an arm around me. “You shouldn’t make this decision by yourself. Talk to Gabe.”
I bury my face in her chest, and hold her tightly. I know if I had a mother, she’d be the one my face would be pressed against today, the one sitting with me on a bench, soaking in my tears. But as it stands, despite the fact that she’s five years younger than me, Gwen is the closest thing to a mother that I have.
CHAPTER THREE
I just can’t see it.
We enjoy another delicious dinner at ‘the dunes’ — grilled steak with Portobello mushrooms, a delicious dill potato salad and strawberry shortcake for dessert, made by me. Gwen and I exchange a few glances across the dinner table. I can tell she feels sorry for me, and pities Gabe even more. Her gaze rests occasionally on him as he carries on a conversation with Greg; a laugh here and then, a shrug, a flailing of the hand, his usual casual self. He’s completely clueless, unsuspecting. As far as he knows, we’re finally free of Bridget and Weston, and life is back to normal.
But Gwen and I know better.
I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off me. It felt so good to finally confide in someone, to let someone in on my secret. And Gwen didn’t judge or preach. She simply listened. Truth be told, I don’t think she quite knew what to say. For once she didn’t have any wise advice. But I sure could have used some. I suppose just having someone to talk to is enough for now.
“So I hear the neighbors two houses down are doing a fireworks display again,” Gwen says, a glass of red in her hand. “We can watch them from our beach.”
“The Smiths,” Greg tells us. “They do it every summer.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” I ask. “Fireworks on residential property?”
Gabe laughs. “Always the rule follower, this one.”
Oh I wish…
If I had followed “The Rules” like I was supposed to, I wouldn’t be in this mess today.
Gabe drains his bottle of beer. “Legal or not, it sounds great to me.”
“We’ll bring lounge chairs and blankets out there,” Gwen tells him. “It’ll be fun.”
Yes…fun.
Just what we all need.
I cuddle with Chloe, wrapped in a cozy purple blanket on one of the lounge chairs we’ve set up on the beach. We have a fire going to keep us warm. Every now and then, Greg adds a log or stokes the fire, keeping it going. We’ve been sitting here for a while, watching the sunset, nursing drinks (virgin for me — but thankfully no one notices) and taking in the beauty before us. For a little while, I almost forget all my problems. But every single time Gwen shoots me a look, the expression on her face reminds me of what I’ve gotten myself into — pity still pools in her eyes.
Gabe and Claire are huddled together in the lounge chair right next to us, under their own blanket, a fleece reproduction of the American flag — very patriotic. Claire is such a daddy’s girl. She absolutely monopolizes him. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind too much. She’s almost at that age where girls start to pull from their dads.
He whispers something in Claire’s ear and she laughs. Her sweet little giggle makes me smile. I kind of wish I was cuddling under that American flag with them. I’ve missed him. He catches my eye and shoots me a wink, almost as if he can read my mind.
The sky darkens, and the voices around us get louder and rowdier. At about ten or so, we are all stunned by the first explosion of lights in the dark sky — a large blue starburst. I, for one, did not expect anything this big from a private fireworks show.
Claire stands tall on the chair. “Wow,” she says with wide eyes.
“Color me impressed,” I say to Gwen.
“Yeah, they always put on quite a show,” she tells me. “They must spend a fortune.”
Burst after burst, the show goes on before us, leaving everyone speechless. The loud conversations and rowdiness a thing of the past. This is the first time we’ve spent the Fourth of July here and I make a mental note to do it again. But then I think, I’m not sure we’ll all be together a year from now. Somehow I can’t picture Gabe and I and the girls…and Weston’s baby. The scene is all wrong