“I did. We had a nice night.” I pictured her lying in bed, and felt an ache in my chest. “But I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’m off tomorrow, but I’m not sure yet what the day looks like with Asher and everything.”
“No problem. Just let me know. There’s . . . something I wanted to ask you.”
“You mentioned that earlier.” I tried unsuccessfully to fight off a yawn. “What is it you want to talk about?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she said quickly. “I know you’re exhausted. I am too. Thanks for putting out my fire tonight.”
“That’s my job, Sawyer.”
“You do it well.”
I smiled. “Night.”
“Night.”
I plugged my phone into the charger and lay back in my old bed, thinking that if I could go back in time and tell sixteen-year-old Noah what would happen between him and Meg one day, he probably wouldn’t believe it.
I could hardly believe it now. I’d gone from talking to her once every few weeks or even months to feeling as if I was addicted to her. It was a damn good thing she wasn’t going to be around much longer.
Addiction was a dangerous disease.
Twenty-Two
Meg
Friday morning, I slept in a little. By the time I got downstairs, the table was empty and the breakfast dishes were piled in the sink. To help my mom out, I loaded the dishwasher, swept the crumbs from the floor, and wiped off the counters.
Afterward, I sat at the table with my laptop and a cup of coffee. I was sifting through my inbox when Sylvia came in the back door with her kids, all of them carrying shopping bags.
“Hi,” I said. “Did you guys hit the mall this morning?”
“We did. The kids needed some things for the rehearsal dinner. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting them pack for themselves. Take those bags up to your rooms, you guys,” Sylvia directed them. “Keaton, take the shirt out and hang it up. And don’t leave the tie all balled up in there either.”
The kids obeyed, heading for the stairs while Sylvia put another coffee pod in the Keurig. Her face looked drawn and a little blotchy.
“You okay?” I asked.
“He didn’t come.” Sylvia stared at the machine as she spoke. “Brett. He didn’t get on the plane.”
It clicked—her husband had been scheduled to take the red-eye from California last night. “He missed his flight?”
“He claims he was tied up at work.” She shook her head. “I think he’s lying. He doesn’t want to come.”
I swallowed, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“He says he’ll get on a flight sometime today or tomorrow morning and be here in time for the wedding.” She took her mug from the machine and turned around, leaning back against the counter. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here,” I told her, although I wasn’t sure at all. I’d never known Brett all that well.
“We’ll see.” She sipped her coffee. “What are you up to today? Working?”
“Yeah.” I frowned at my laptop and closed it. “But I’m distracted.”
“Can’t imagine why.” Her eyes hinted at a smile. “Have you talked to Noah yet?”
“No.” I checked the clock on the kitchen wall. It was just after noon. “He’s been with Asher, and I don’t want to bother him. But I suppose I should reach out. If I’m going to talk to him today before all the rehearsal stuff starts, it has to be this afternoon. What time do we have to be ready?”
“Mom said five o’clock in the lobby. She’s all stressed because the inn is so busy today. All the out of town wedding guests are checking in.”
I winced. “I should offer to help, shouldn’t I?”
“No. I’ll help her. It will keep my mind off my imploding marriage. You go talk to Noah.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Sylvia.” I bit my lip. “I want there to be something I can do or say to make you feel better.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She finished her coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll show up.”
“I hope so.” I stood up and stuck my laptop back in its travel case. “I’ll see you later.”
Upstairs in my room, I texted him.
Me: Hey you. How’s your day going?
He didn’t reply right away, so I brushed my teeth, threw on some leggings and a tank, and pulled on my running shoes. I was tying them when he finally texted back.