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Miguel, still seething, took off towards my car. Both of us were still barefoot, and the gravel pricked at my heels and toes with every step as I hobbled after him, wincing as sharp bits of stone clung to my feet.
“What the hell?” I asked as he stopped by my car.
Miguel leaned back against it, blowing out a breath. “He’s going to tell everyone.”
“Of course he is now you’ve attacked him! Why would you do that?”
His eyes shifted down to the ground, and my heart quickly followed as understanding crept over me.
“What did he say, Miguel?”
Like I couldn’t have guessed. Just because I hadn’t heard with my own ears, didn’t mean I didn’t know. He thought Miguel was a bastard and I was a whore.
“You don’t want to hear it.”
I didn’t need to. I had a feeling I’d be hearing it over and over again for the next few days at least. Probably longer. That was if anyone could stand to speak to me.
This was everything I didn’t want, and as it all crashed down on me again, the overbearing weight of what I’d done, of my betrayal, pushed hard on my, stealing my breath.
“Now what?” I rubbed my hand across my aching forehead. “How are we supposed to handle this?”
“I don’t know. This is all my fault. This was not the right place for us to talk.”
“It’s not all your fault. I had a say in this. I kissed you back.” I lifted my head. “I wanted to kiss you.”
Miguel straightened and took a step forward, reaching out for my hands. “I don’t know what this is between us, but I think we have to make a choice. Soon everyone will know Tommy saw us kissing, and we need to tell them something.”
“I’d like to tell them to mind their own business.”
Miguel smiled, gently pulling me into him and resting his hands on my waist. “Me too. But that’s not what they want to hear.”
“The only thing we can do is tell them it was a mistake. I got upset, you comforted me, we let things get out of control. That’s the only explanation they’ll maybe accept.”
“It’s not the truth.”
“The truth sucks!” I pushed him away, glaring. This wasn’t his fault but I wished things were different. Wished I could turn back the clock. “What are we supposed to do? Tell them we’re getting it on when Will only died five months ago?”
“Don’t do that,” Miguel said through gritted teeth. “Don’t make it sound so cold.”
“It is cold! Who other than cold-hearted people would do something like this? We’re going to lose everyone, Miguel!” I pointed towards the building where our friends were probably learning about our betrayal as we spoke. “All those people in there who have been so good to us are going to hate us for this! Tommy already proved that!”
“And what did Ethan say?”
I shook my head. “He said he didn’t want to get involved. It’s different for him though. He didn’t know Will.”
“Freya.” Miguel turned me to face him and rested one hand against my cheek. I closed my eyes for a second, once again letting his calmness flow through me. How did he do that? How did he manage to calm me in any situation? Especially one as serious as this. “Whatever we tell people, we need to be on the same page and I don’t want this to end with us avoiding each other again. We still need each other. That’s just about the only thing that hasn’t changed. Don’t let this ruin how far we’ve come.”
Chapter 9 – The Queen of Bad Decisions
I had no idea how long I’d been in bed. I drove Miguel home the night before then went home, put on my PJs, turned off my cell and unplugged my landline, and climbed under my comforter.
I hadn’t slept, just stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of my life. As the daylight crept in through the gap in the curtains, the photo of Will and me on the dresser came into view, our smiling faces torturing me.
I stared at it; the captured memory causing an ache in my chest. The photo had been taken at Genie’s one night when Will and I had gone out because we didn’t feel like cooking. By coincidence, Bree and Jude were there too. Bree, in her usual way, had gushed about how cute we were, and she just had to take our picture. In the photo, our cheeks touched, both of us smiling, happiness making our eyes glimmer.
At least Will knew I loved him. So many people lose loved ones, and carry the burden of not knowing whether the person they lost knew how much they were cared for. I never had that fear. Will knew I loved him and I knew he loved me. We told each other every single day. “I love you” was the last thing I said to him before he left that day and never came home. That love had both helped me and crippled me at the same time. It kept my heart beating in the moments when I wanted it to stop, but loving someone so much when you can’t be with them anymore, can’t reach them to tell them, weighs you down. I was drowning in the same love that had once kept me afloat.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, my eyes still fixed on the photograph. At the man I still loved, and would love for the rest of my life.
