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“Unfortunately?”
Yeah, she’d stepped right into that one.
Meredith shrugged, catching her hair in the strap of her bag. As she reached up to pull it out and slid her hand into the beaded back pocket of her jeans, she decided to tell him. Maybe then she could escape and go home. Where she was safe.
“It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.”
“How so?”
“I was engaged.” It wasn’t something she talked about. And out of respect for her, Susan wouldn’t have told Mark, either. “Frank was kind and smart, witty, good-looking. Motivated. He got along well with his family. And with my mother. I trusted him.”
She stopped, her chest tightening as she fought the memories.
“He had an affair,” Mark said softly, his eyes darkening. “What an idiot.” He leaned back against the door.
“No, he didn’t,” Meredith said. “I wish he had. It would’ve been a lot easier to deal with, because that would have been his problem, his weakness and not mine.”
“So what happened?” Mark folded his arms across chest.
Solid chest. Strong. Reliable. Firm.
“He didn’t show up at the wedding.” A woman’s worst nightmare. Or at least hers. And it had come true.
Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it had really happened. Surely that whole part of her life had merely been one of those nightmares that seemed so real you had a hard time distinguishing fact from fiction.
“The church was full. My mother had spent far too many thousands of dollars on flowers and food and photography and a band and invitations. I was there in my dress, my friends all around me in theirs…”
“Damn!”
Mmm-hmm.
“I waited not one hour but two,” she said with a twisted grin. As soon as she could actually laugh when she told this story, it would no longer have the power to hurt her. Maybe three lifetimes from now.
Which was why she never told anyone. Susan knew, but then she’d been the woman in the soft purple maid-of-honor gown, holding Meredith up as she walked sobbing from the church.
People who’d known her then knew. They’d all been there. Witnesses.
“Did you ever find out why?” Mark didn’t touch her, but she thought he wanted to. Or maybe it was just that she wanted him to. Wanted a man to find her worth the effort.
She nodded, and stood with her chin held high. “There was a letter for me taped to the front door of our apartment. He’d moved all his stuff out while I was at the church waiting—”
“Cold bastard!”
Meredith smiled a little at the interruption, nodding. She never should have started this, and now she was having to force herself to breathe.
“What did it say?”
“That as much as he loved me, he couldn’t handle a lifetime of living with me. I’m too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“You need to ask?” she said, staring up at him. “You’re right there with him, Mark. I’m too intense. I feel too much. And when I experience certain sensations, I act. Even if the situation is one I should probably walk away from. But you know what?” She was feeling a little better. “I’m never going to walk away, not from any of it. I can’t. I am what I am. I’m intense, just as my fiancé said. I feel everything around me, and I’m glad about that. I can’t imagine life without the depth, without the magic that accompanies the pain.” She was on a roll. Perhaps she should do this more often. She could stand on street corners and tell everyone her story.
“I like me.” She finally said it. And stood there shocked. She’d never said that before; never consciously thought about it. She’d never known it.
But it was true.
Life was good.
