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“And,” Cobb says, taking a deep breath before he goes on. “I believe in you and me, Gold.”
Marigold’s arms go slack around him, and he can feel the smile slip from her face even though he’s not looking directly at her.
“Cobb…”
“Just hear me out,” he says, stepping away from Marigold so that he can turn his whole body towards her. “I’ve always known that we belonged together,” Cobb says. “I didn’t ever want you to leave, though I understood why you had to, and frankly, I thank you for leaving. It made me realize how much I was screwing up my life—and everyone else’s—and it pushed me to get help. But I’ve been sober for nine years, Marigold. I’ve been leading a quiet, reflective life that truly suits me. The only thing that’s missing from that life is you.”
Behind them on Main Street the other guests begin to trickle out of the B&B to head to a stretch of beach where Holly’s husband and the island’s only police officer are going to set off fireworks at midnight. There is joyous laughter from all around, but Cobb doesn’t take his eyes from Marigold’s face. They stand there with a million moments of love, heartbreak, joy, and pain passing back and forth between them as they remember it all.
“Cobb,” Marigold finally says, shaking her head like she’s trying to stop a movie from playing there. “You’ve had a major health scare—that’s a life-changing event for anyone.”
“No,” he interrupts, reaching for her hands as the first fireworks explode in the sky from down the beach. “Goldie, this isn’t me speaking from a place of fear, this is me telling you what’s been in my heart all along. I’m sorry—for everything. For hurting you and Elijah, and for destroying your trust in me. I did a lot of damage to both myself and to you guys, and I know I’ll have to spend the rest of my life making up for it. You don’t know how sorry I am.”
Rather than telling him he doesn’t need to apologize, Marigold lets him take her hands in his and hold them. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I appreciate that.”
“I figured out so many things while I was in treatment, Goldie, but one of the most important things I learned was that addiction means you’re giving up everything for one thing. I did that for years and years and years. I gave up everything to feed my addiction.”
“I remember,” she says softly. There are tears in her eyes.
“But I also discovered that true recovery is giving up that one thing to get everything else back. Nine years ago I said goodbye to ever again using any type of substance and my world opened up, Goldie. I started to get back the things I’d lost. I was able to think about music again, and to rebuild my relationship with my son. I learned that I love walking for miles and miles in silence and just listening to my thoughts, and that I can read a book in a day without even pausing to eat. I discovered that I really enjoy watching old movies and baking bread, but I also discovered that I’d never be whole again without you.”
Marigold laughs through her tears, which she swipes away with her fingertips. “It kind of sounds like you discovered that you’re actually a British grandmother in the body of a fifty-six-year-old man.” Cobb laughs at this. “But truthfully, I don’t want to be a replacement for substances, Cobb. I can’t do that.”
He’s stunned by this. Is she not understanding what he’s saying? What he’s offerering? “What do you mean?”
“Cobb, you are very much prone to addiction. What if all I am is one more thing to lose yourself in? What ifI’man addiction?”
He steps back as if she’s just slapped him. “But…you’re not. You’re the woman I love. The woman I’ve always loved.”
Marigold’s eyes turn heavenward, where bright bursts of color shoot into the night sky, celebrating the dawn of a new year. She suddenly looks sad.
“A lot has happened,” she finally says. Marigold searches his face with tears on her cheeks. “Maybe too much has happened. I just don’t know.”
“But Goldie.” Cobb reaches out for her as she starts to walk away. “These are the first minutes of a brand new year. We could start fresh—be the people we are now, not the people we were then.”
Marigold stops walking and faces him again. She shrugs, looking helpless beneath the bright, festive lights of Main Street. “I’m not sure that we’re new people now, Cobb. I think we’re just older, wiser versions of the people we’ve always been. And I don’t know that I can go back—even if I wanted to.” She waits a beat, then shrugs again. “Happy New Year, Cobb,” she says. Her voice is almost a whisper.
Cobb stands there on the sand and watches as she walks back to the B&B alone.
Athena
It's New Year's Eve and Elijah's parents are gone. Athena feels a rush of excitement as she leans into the bathroom mirror, slipping the hooks of her earrings through her lobes. She shakes out her loose hair.
The bad situation with Diego is definitely in her rearview mirror, but there's no way that Athena can look at herself honestly without admitting that she simply made a poor choice when it came to spending the night with him. And it wasn't even her fault, because it's not like men walk around wearing engagement rings--she couldn't have known intuitively that she'd chosen to lose her virginity to a man who was about to get married. And if she had known, then she certainly wouldn't have done it!
“Heyyyy." Harlow slides into the bedroom and flops onto Athena's bed. She's in sweats, eating an ice cream sandwich out of a paper wrapper. "You look like a fox, girl. You trying to get in trouble tonight?" Harlow wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she takes a bite out of the corner of her ice cream.
"No, I'm not looking for trouble," Athena says. She leans back from the mirror and appraises herself from head to toe. "Does this outfit send the wrong message?"
Harlow props herself up on one elbow and looks at her sister. "I don't think so. It's pretty straightforward." She shrugs. "You're in all black, which is sexy, but not too sexy. And you have leggings tucked into boots--again, sexy but not overly. And then your sweater hugs your body, but it's a turtleneck, so it also leaves something to the imagination. I think it's totally you."
Athena smooths her sweater down as she exhales. "Okay. Good." Unspoken between them is the fact that Athena doesn’t trust her own judgment yet when it comes to men. She’s worried that she might be making another misstep, but at the same time, she knows she can’t—and doesn’t want to—stay on the sidelines forever.
"Hey," Harlow says, sitting up and taking another big bite of her quickly melting ice cream sandwich. "Elijah seems like a good guy. He really does. And he has good energy.”
Athena turns away from the full-length mirror on her wall. Her room is done in shades of pale blue and white, and her mother has chosen a fluffy white rug that covers about half of the bedroom’s hardwood floor. Harlow is sitting at the edge of her white wooden sleigh bed, legs dangling several feet off the ground.
"I like him a lot,” Athena admits. She really does like Elijah, and not in the same way that she'd liked Diego. This isn't some crazy work crush based on fleeting glimpses and stolen moments of proximity. "He's been super nice to me, and I think he's really funny and sweet. I trust him.”
