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I was a plaything. Nothing more.
Foolishly, I’d wanted to win the untouchable girl. Because that would give me validation. I strived for that bullshit rather than searching for someone I could connect with, someone I could have a real, loving, adult relationship with. And that was on me.
How ridiculous to base my value on the status of my significant other. To think that if someone like her wanted me, then I must be worthy.
This conversation was quickly going off the rails. I didn’t want to even think about Crystal anymore, let alone have a conversation in which she came up. “Mom. I don’t think—”
She patted my hand. “I mean it. Hazel is a lovely girl. Smart, hardworking. She deserves a happily ever after. Though I wish you hadn’t kept your relationship with her quiet. That you’d let us throw you a big wedding. That girl deserves the world and more.”
The guilt was burning a hole inside me. For the first time in so long, my mom looked happy, hopeful. She loved Hazel, everyone in town did, and she wanted the best for her.
And I hated knowing that I was nowhere near what my wife deserved.
“It’s okay, you know. I’m sure your siblings are all up in arms over this. But when you know, you know. Your dad and I had a whirlwind courtship. And we had thirty-six years together.”
I squeezed her hand as a fat tear crested her lower lashes.
“Take it,” she said, pushing the box at me. “It’s not traditional, but I think it’s perfect for you two.”
I pulled the compass from its box and turned it over, squinting at the inscription on the back. “Mon amour, nous naviguerons cette vie ensemble.”
I read it slowly, the French my mom had insisted we all learn practically nonexistent anymore.
Mom raised a brow. She was always on us about honoring our heritage. “It roughly translates to ‘my love, we will navigate this life together.’”
My breath hitched and my eyes strung at the realization that my mom wanted to give me something so precious. Something she had shared with my dad. The guilt once again gutted me.
Because this marriage wasn’t even real. And it would be over before she knew it, devastating her and the rest of this town.
And inevitably, I’d be to blame. The fuck-up once again. But I’d happily shoulder that blame to protect Hazel.
“Make her happy, okay? That girl—Dylan too—was blessed with so little in this life. Give her everything. And I’m not talking about money. Give her your whole heart, all your love and attention. Listen to her and see her. Let her grow and follow her dreams.”
My throat was tight, and my heart pounded in my ears, almost drowning out her words. “I promise, Mom.”
And as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t a lie. I would do just that for as long as she would let me.
Chapter14
Remy
Since I’d moved into the cabin, I’d spent every day dreading going home to the quiet emptiness. Most nights, I went to Dylan’s or to the Moose to avoid being alone with my thoughts.
But tonight, I couldn’t get home fast enough. I had spent the day making spreadsheets for Paz that would allow us to track deliveries for the past few years by weight so he could create models for fuel costs.
My head had been spinning all day. Those damn tiny Excel spreadsheet boxes would haunt my nightmares, I was sure. There was nothing I hated more than tapping away on a keyboard all day in my windowless office. Paz barely spoke to me, and after our showdown last weekend, I didn’t want to even look at him, so when the instructions hit my inbox, I hopped to it, knowing that if I didn’t, he’d be in my office glowering at me again.
More often than not, I was desperate to get out of there, and that hadn’t changed, but for once, I wanted to go home.
To my wife.
Strange didn’t even begin to explain it. But it was still light out and the weather was pleasant, and for the first time in a while, I actually felt like working out. Each day, I had been pushing myself harder and harder to get back to the man I used to be. And thankfully, my body was on board today. My muscles craved movement and the strain of pushing them to their limits after a day at my desk. Even more than that, I wanted to check in with Hazel to see how her work was progressing and to ensure she was comfortable in the spare room.
The second I crossed the threshold, I froze. Hazel was in the kitchen wearing a pink frilly apron. The stovetop was crowded with pots and pans, and music was playing, but in my confusion, I didn’t recognize the tune.
Should I walk back out and come in again? Was I hallucinating?
Maybe the spreadsheets had broken my mind?
