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Okay, maybe I’m not sure. Maybe we should wait.
I hope he doesn’t change his mind about me.
“Yes. I’m very lovable.” Davis’s expression stutters and his voice drops a tiny bit. “And I love you, too.”
For a moment, everything stops. Everything fades. Everything but that hopeful, twinkling light in his eyes. A shudder of emotion moves through me.
I try to remember the last time I heard anyone else say that to me. Anyone except for Meghan, I guess. I search my brain hard for a memory I just can’t find. And that makes me want to cry.
“Why do you love me?” I whisper, my voice cracked.
Davis’s hand comes up and he brushes my bangs away from my eyes. His touch is so warm and tender, I’d believe anything he says to me in this moment. “Because you’re sweet.” He smiles. “And you’re smart. And you’re beautiful.” He playfully brings a lock of my hair to his nose. “And your hair always smells like candy.”
I’m melting from the inside out. I want to wrap my arms around him and never ever let him go. Because no one else in the world looks at me the way he does, sees me the way he does.
“Davis, baby…” I cup his cheek, my hand trembling. This is all just too good for the other shoe not to drop. Soon.
But just as the tears are about to come pouring down, Davis jumps on me and starts tickling me mercilessly. “Plus, your ass tastes like a bowl of cherries.”
Squirming and kicking and laughing, I bark out, “Yours, too…”
And I think Meghan just puked in the front seat. Oops!
* * *
I’m laughing ruefullyto myself as the memory fades from my mind. But seriously, is 31-year-old me that much different from my insecure 16-year-old self? What’s it gonna take to ‘fix’ me? How many more self-help books is it gonna take? Goddamn.
I tip my face up to the sky to keep my tears from tumbling from my eyes. I make the rest of the trek to the main house. When I get there, the front door is open a crack. I stick my head inside and call out. “Rainbow?”
She sweeps down through the living room in another one of her swooshy dresses. “Good morning, moonflower!”
“Uh, g-good morning…?”
With a twinkling smile, she quickly invites me inside and shoos me into the kitchen where she’s in the middle of making a big breakfast. I roll up my sleeves, wash up, and she immediately puts me to work. I grate potatoes while she fries up bacon.
“Thanks again for having us,” I say as I slide the bowl of grated potatoes across the counter. “If it weren’t for you and Jimmy and Ziggy, I’m not sure what Davis and I would have done last night.”
“It’s always a pleasure to connect with kindred souls.” She hums happily under her breath as she rinses the grated potatoes.
“Do you know if the road is clear?” We really should be getting out of here soon. I haven’t exactly talked to Davis this morning. But surely he’s in as big of a hurry as I am to get to his brother’s wedding.And out of that tiny cabin with me, my subconscious yells.
“Jimmy’s going to call the sheriff’s office to find out about the roads right after breakfast.” She frowns. “Usually, our sheriff gets sort of a late start to the day.” She dumps the potatoes into a cast iron skillet.
“Well, I hope it’s good news.” If that road is still closed, Meghan is going to die.
Rainbow studies me as breakfast sizzles and bubbles and grills on the stove. “Your aura is bluer today. Sad. Dull. I was hoping a night in that cozy cabin would have you shifting toward yellow.” She reaches out to pat my arm. “Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?”
I shake my head, busying myself with stirring the gravy that clearly doesn’t need to be stirred. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about. Besides, blue is a pretty color. I look nice in blue.” I immediately second guess. “Or maybe not.” Maybe I’m just a big, old, blue, sad, dull sweater.
Rainbow carries on like I didn’t even speak. “I have to tell you—the happiness you’re seeking with your husband, you won’t truly find it until you’re happy withyourself…Are you happy with yourself, Alana?”
My gut bubbles just like the sauce. I set down the spoon and move on to chopping the fruits on the counter. “Yes, I…I’m happy,” I say without looking up.
She chuckles bitterly, her piercing stare on me. “I have a feeling you don’t quite know what happiness is, dear.”
I mull over her words, flipping them back and forth in my mind. She could be right. This thing I feel, it’s not quite happiness. It’s more like acceptance. I’ve accepted the circumstances of my life. I’ve accepted that the man I love isn’t meant for me. I’ve accepted that it’s better to love him from a distance than to get too close and ruin him completely. If he thinks the bruises of our divorce were bad, he has no idea the total destruction continuing our marriage would have caused.
So, okay. Fine. I’m not happy. But I’ve found acceptance. Acceptance isn’t all that bad.
