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Then to myself, I add,Why do I always have to be the screw-up or the unwanted one? Why can’t I just be the happy one for a change?
“I don’t understand.” My mother is boiling like a pot in her chair. “If he’s single, what’s the problem?” This question, at least, is not addressed to me.
“Archibald Hill isn’t right for her,” Winter says. And the condescension in her tone blows my fuse for good.
I’m about to start yelling again when my mother speaks, and I’m as surprised as my sister when my mom replies, “Well, honey, that’s not for you to say.” Then she turns to me. “Darling, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, I am really. It’s just that I hate to see one of my babies suffer. And you, well you haven’t been the same since… anyway… I just want you to know we all love you and we want you to be happy and we’ll be there for you whatever happens.”
The words leave me a little choked, but Winter makes sure to turn the switch back to mad right away.
“Mom, don’t encourage her. He’s not a smart choice, full stop.”
“Oh, because you’re thequeenof smart choices,” I yell. “Should I remind you how we got here?”
“What do you meanhere?”
“With you in a wedding gown.”
By this point, I swear the hairstylist is reconsidering her policy of no food and drinks, and would gladly grab a box of popcorn and a Coke.
“What’s wrong with me getting married?” Winter accuses.
“Nothing, but let’s see all thesmart choicesthat brought you to this point…” I tap my chin. “First, you accepted an assignment in a wild, unexplored land with a team you knew nothing about, then got yourself chased through the jungle by maniacs, and shot at, and almost killed. At which point you decided it’d be an excellent idea to sleep with your boss, who, FYI, you hated until the day before, and, tah-dah, a year later you’re getting married. You’re not smart, you’re—”
“What?” my sister yells.
The fight dies out of me, and I sag back on the armchair. “Lucky,” I whisper. “You’re lucky it all worked out for you. And I’m happy it did. I genuinely am. But this week has been hard for me. Half the people here hate me. And I wanted an escape.”
“And you chose the worst possible one.” Winter’s features soften as well. “Can’t you see I just worry about you?”
“Well, you don’t have to. Archie has been just a shot of morphine to get me through the week, nothing more. And it will be over by tomorrow, anyway. Or better still, it’s already over.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy, but it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s a problem that comes with using morphine.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“It’s addictive.”
21
ARCHIE
Like a caged lion, I pace around the groom’s suite, brooding about last night. I try to break down my feelings about this quicksand I’m stuck in because I’ve no clue how to get out, or even if I want an out at all. I’ve always been so sure. Always so ready to walk away. But with Summer, it’s different.
Yeah? How?
My bed was empty last night, and I hated it. No matter that Summer was too drunk to make any conscious decision or stay awake for more than ten minutes, I didn’t want to leave her alone, even if it was the right thing to do. I wanted to stay by her side. To hold her. To wake up with the coconutty smell of her hair in my nostrils. To bring her water and an aspirin for the headache she’ll be nursing right now. I hate even more that I don’t know how she is. And most of all, what she’s thinking.
But I also have to face other realities. She’s only had wrong relationships in her life, and I can’t steal more time from her if I’m not positive I want the same future she does: marriage, kids, to build a family.
Do I want any of those things?
Until a week ago, I would’ve laughed in anyone’s face who suggested it because the idea of settling down, of being tied to one place and one person, always seemed suffocating. But now, I’m not so sure anymore. Spending every day of the rest of my life with Summer doesn’t sound like a prison sentence. In a pre-Summer world,tying the knotliterally translated for me to putting a length of rope around my neck and jumping. Whereas now,letting her gosounds like suicide.
But kids?
