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“Danny died because some idiots drank too much and plowed into their boat. She hates everyone’s drinking. It was never just yours.”
“No, I know.” He sighs. “Trust me, I know. And I get it. I really do. I guess a part of me always felt bitter about her treating me like a child over it. I felt like she wanted me to give up so much.”
“What do you mean?” I ask as he squeezes the bridge of his nose, his eyes slamming shut to prevent fresh tears from falling.
He looks up and exhales. “Boats, for one. Growing up, my family and I spent every summer on the lake. I gave all of that up for her. Never stepped foot on a boat again. I used to try to convince her it was safe, that I would take care of her.” His voice breaks and he stops before leaning forward over his knees.
I place a hand on his shoulder gently.I’m here, I want to whisper.We’ll get through this. But I don’t. I can’t bring myself to say a word. What in the world could I say that would possibly make any of this better?
Once he’s composed himself enough to continue, he goes on, “So, I gave up boating. Just like that, I stopped going to the lake with my family. Sold my Bayliner. It was tough, but… It’s Mae.Come on.There’s no competition over what means more to me.” He shrugs, turning his head to look at me as if to say it’s obvious. Which it is. “But drinking… I couldn’t give it up. She always wanted me to stop, and I’d cut back a lot, but… I could never completely quit. I guess I felt like I’d given up enough for her, you know? I feel like an ass saying that out loud. I mean, I never thought I was an alcoholic, but I really liked it, you know? I liked the way a drink made me feel. And she has a drink now and again, too, so I thought…well, what’s the harm? It sounds so stupid.” He shakes his head. “Now I can’t even stomach the idea of taking a drink.” He drops his head into his hands as sobs overtake him, and I lean forward, ready to catch him if he needs me. As his shoulders shake with soft sobs, I feel new tears sting my own eyes.
“Hey…” I whisper, reaching across to rub his back awkwardly. I don’t know what to say. Telling him it will be okay feels like a lie. Telling him we’ll find her feels even worse. Instead, I say the only thing I can think of, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. This sucks.”
He looks up as if it’s the last thing he expected me to say, and to my surprise, a small laugh leaves his throat. “Yeah, it does.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “It does suck.” Clearing his throat, he swipes his palm across his whole face.
“She loves you,” I say finally. “She does. You make her so happy.”
His brows go up skeptically. “Has she actually told you that, or are you just assuming?”
The dry way he asks it makes me realize how much he’s doubting everything at this moment. “Yes, she has. So many times.”
He leans back against the chair, nodding as if convincing himself of something. Finally, he looks at me. “I need you to tell me something.”
“Of course.”
“The truth, Florence. I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to swear you’ll be totally honest.”
“Of course I will.”
He presses his lips together as my heart flutters, terrified of what he’s going to ask.
“Has Mae ever cheated on me?”
My stomach drops, a boulder sinking down deep in my gut. “No,” I say after a pause.
“You hesitated.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to ask that. I needed to process. She’s never cheated. Not that she’s told me.”
“Wouldshe have told you?”
“We tell each other everything.”
He scoffs. “Apparently not everything.”
“Don’t let this make you start questioning what you know about her. Weknowher. She loves you. She would never cheat on you.” I twist my lips, studying his incredulous expression. “Everyone has secrets, Blake. But Mae wasn’t cheating on you with that man. Or anyone else, for that matter. Whatever is going on, whoever he is, she wouldn’t do that. We may not have all the answers or understand why they were talking, but we have to trust that she had her reasons for going back to the bar, for talking to him. For all we know, he was stalking her and she was just being polite. Maybe she just needed a minute alone and he ambushed her.”
His eyes narrow. “They were hugging in the picture. They left together. Diego’s right… Am I blind not to see it? Not to realize what’s happening? And, even if what you’re saying is true, even if it was all innocent, what reasons could she possibly have for dancing with another man? Do you honestly believe it was a coincidence? That she blew you off, pretended to go to her room, but actually came back to the bar alone? And then, minutes later, he showed up? Diego said they left the bar together. Is that a coincidence too? Is her not being here all just a coincidence?”
“Oh, so this is her fault. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Of course not!”
“Sounds a lot like victim blaming, which is the last thing we need. May as well ask what she was wearing, too.”
He groans. “Florence, she’s missing. She was with another man just before she disappeared. I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming myself for not asking more questions. I’m wondering if I missed something huge. If I gave her a reason to leave me and I didn’t see it.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Letting Diego get into your head. She didn’t leave you, Blake. She didn’t leave us. She’s…” My voice is shaky as I try to find the words. “She’s trying to deal with her feelings right now.”
