AllFreeNovel
Share Us
How ironic, to have to feel safe enough in yourself before you could take any risks, when finding the person who could help you feel that safe took the biggest risk of all—making yourself completely open and vulnerable to someone else.
Would Sarah ever find that safety? Not if she kept falling in love with the men who’d risk nothing.
Evan finished and sat down. Another friend rose, a girlfriend of Ellen’s. She talked about how cynical Ellen had gotten about men and about dating, so that for the first six weeks of her relationship with Paul, she kept saying he had to be some kind of total pervert or criminal because no one could be that wonderful. Of course her friends saw through this, and knew she was mentally shopping for a wedding dress after their second date.
Sarah sighed. More of the irony of love. Finally finding someone perfect for you and not being able to accept that lightning had struck, because so much of dating was wading through utter crap. She could vouch for that. She’d be suspicious, too, after all she’d been through, if something so great was simply handed to her.
“Hi.” Joe’s whisper made her automatically shift to make room next to her, still mulling over the mysteries of love and life, still not sure what to conclude when it came to her own situation. He sat and casually extended his arm behind her back, leaning on his hands, listening attentively with her to Ellen’s friend, then to a few others who stood and told stories—funny stories, sweet stories, poignant stories, all demonstrating what a good match Ellen and Paul made. After a few minutes, Sarah leaned into Joe, enjoying the moment and his arm behind her, feeling a little more relaxed now, and steadier. Joe did that to her.
The last toast finished, Paul and Ellen stood up to say good-night. They’d be spending the night separately as tradition dictated. Ellen would stay in their bedroom in the house, and Paul would bunk in Kevin’s room.
Poor Carrie. Sarah snickered. Yes, she was glad the little you-know-what wasn’t after Joe anymore. Joe deserved a lot better. But it was pretty disgusting that she’d gone so obviously after him and then jumped into bed with Kevin the second the opportunity presented itself. What was up with that? Pathetic if you asked Sarah. Which no one had.
Around them, people were standing, stretching, forming new groups or heading off into the woods toward the house or to their tents. Sarah wasn’t ready to go to bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep with this dryer load of unidentifiable emotions tumbling inside her.
“Hey.” She turned to Joe, who seemed nearly as moody and distracted as she felt. “Want to take a walk?”
“Sure.” He stood and held out a hand to haul her to her feet. “Which way?”
Sarah shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. How about sunset point?”
“Okay.”
They stopped at the house to get flashlights and a couple of old quilts to wrap up in since the night promised to be chilly. Fall came early to Maine, and late August nights could offer a pretty convincing taste of September.
They made their way down the cranberry covered hill to the prominent outcropping where they spread one quilt on the soft ground above the ledge and huddled under the other, flashlights off, staring out over the dark water.
“Nice rehearsal dinner.”
“It was great.” He yawned.
“Tired?”
“Yeah. We introvert types get worn out by all this fun.”
She laughed. “Poor Joe, all those annoying good times.”
“Uh-huh.” He nudged her affectionately with his shoulder. “I’m not sure how I survived enjoying myself.”
“Well, it’s almost over.”
He was silent so long she turned to look at him. “Joe?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Hello?” She’d obviously startled him out of some deep thought. He wasn’t generally the brooding type. “I said the week is almost over.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Sarah frowned. Something was bothering him, too. “Guess we go back to the old routine, huh. You at your job, me at mine, seeing each other once in a while.”
“Could be.”
“We could make a pledge absolutely to have dinner once a week. At that Thai place you like down near Symphony Hall.”
