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“I’ll do that.” I give her a self-deprecating roll of my eyes. “Tell him I need to clean up, then I’ll be in.”
“Sure thing.” She’s back to her bubbly self, which I appreciate because the mausoleum mode dragging down the whole house has got to go.
“And thanks for everything,” I say. “I don’t know how my brothers lucked into you two ladies, but they should be damn thankful.”
Keeley winks my way. “Britta and I never let them forget it. We’ll occupy Evan with embarrassing stories about Maxon and Griff until you’re ready.”
I laugh as she slips out of the bedroom, then head to the adjoining bathroom and stare in the mirror. And stare some more. Oh, hell. Iama mess. I’m so grateful Keeley said something. I don’t even look presentable enough to socialize with anyone’s pet.
Dialing up the music she downloaded for me just now, I turn up the volume and cut on the shower. I’ll be quick, but it’s going to take some repair.
The first song to blare through my phone speakers is “The Long and Winding Road.” Paul McCartney’s iconic voice, complete with that little break in the first line, is unmistakable. By the time I’m soaping up, my tears are falling down. I should feel noble about my decision to separate from Noah now and save him the pain later, but I don’t. I’d love to change my mind but…all the fears that made me leave in the first place are still there. Sure, progress not perfection, and all that. But what if it’s not enough?
As I’m rinsing my hair, a song I don’t recognize begins to play. It’s kick-ass, beginning with a serious guitar riff. Then a woman with a high-pitched, almost fragile voice belts out that she wants to dream again and this time she’s not scared because she’s unbreakable. The lyrics resonate, pinging and bouncing inside me, connecting deep. She sings a quick bridge about fear being the crutch that holds you back and turns your dreams to dust.
Oh, hell. She’s right.
Noah won’t use me. I know that now. He’s also willing to take me back. What’s keeping me from running back to him right now is nothing more than my own anxiousness and worry.
As my thoughts roll on, so does the song, shouting that all I need to do is trust.
So simple. But so damn hard.
Shoving aside the shower curtain, I wipe the water from my hand enough to tap the screen of my phone. The tune is “Unbreakable” by Fireflight. I’m definitely listening to that again. After hearing the vocalist’s resolve, I know I need more of my own.
And I have to remember to thank Keeley later for telling me so in her way.
The next song up begins with a totally different guitar sound than the last, this one a gentle sway like a breeze-tossed palm. It’s unmistakably Elvis saying that he can’t help falling in love. Yeah, I couldn’t help it, either. When he sings the eloquent plea to his love that she should take his hand and his whole life, too… That’s another sob I can’t stop. Everything Noah said to me boiled down to that message.
And I still walked away.
I have this terrible feeling I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.
I have to get out of the shower and not keep Evan waiting anymore. Maybe…I need to call Noah to talk, too.
As classic Elvis drifts off, I cut the faucet and hop out of the shower. I refuse to cry over this mess I’ve made anymore. I’m going to figure out how to be happy and start doing it.
The King fades, leading into John Legend. “All of Me” is a beautiful song with a beautiful message. That man loves his woman, the same way my husband said he loves me—with all my curves and edges and my perfect imperfections.
Damn it, that starts the waterworks again.
Grabbing a pile of comfy clothes from my suitcase, I scramble into something I hope is presentable—along with a bra—as the ballad mellows into another fitting choice on Keeley’s part. Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally” captures the essence of the way I’m supposed to love my husband in return. When she croons about letting go of the fear and just being free, I laugh through the fresh sting of tears. Keeley isn’t subtle in delivering her message, but she’s effective.
As I wrestle a comb through my wet hair and wrangle it into a bun, George Harrison sings me out with “Here Comes the Sun.” It’s the vocal equivalent of light peeking through the darkness. Upbeat. Happy. Hopeful. Keeley—and the Fab Four—are telling me that everything will be all right.
The collective message of this playlist isn’t lost on me. I’ve put Noah and myself on this long, winding path to misery, which will only get longer unless I decide that fear will no longer break me. If I’ll embrace the fact that we both fell in love and believe that he loves all of me unconditionally, my long, cold, lonely winter will be over.
I sigh as I stroke some lip balm across my mouth. Keeley is probably right. And now I’m feeling like a total coward. What if Maxon hadn’t gotten over himself enough to admit he loved Keeley? What if Griff hadn’t worked past his anger enough to marry Britta? What kind of loser does it make me if I don’t even try to make my relationship with Noah last?
Yeah… I have to talk to him.
After rushing out the bedroom door, I race down the tiled hallway and approach the study to ask if I can borrow someone’s car because I’ve got to go. Instead, I hear Evan talking—and his words stop me short.
“So I don’t see any other choice. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m going to have to buy a wife.”
Is he kidding?
One of my sisters-in-law chokes. Britta, I think, since Keeley has no trouble finding her voice.
