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“I can understand that Penelope, I truly can. But you’ve been here for two weeks now and I can’t help but feel betrayed.”
She’s right. I hurt her and I feel so terrible.
“I know. I know I messed up and I should have said something that first day. I’m so, so sorry, Sally. If I could take it back and be honest about who I was when Brent found me crying in my car, I would. But I can’t. All I can do is apologize for lying.”
Despite trying to hold them back, tears stream down my face. I dab at my eyes with a napkin and take a deep breath to try and relax.
It doesn’t work, and my shoulders shake as the sobs escape my lips. I’m full on ugly-crying now and the tears won’t stop.
Sally gets up, comes to my side of the table, and slides into the booth next to me. Slowly, she puts her arm around my shoulder and pulls me against her.
“I’m so sorry, Sally. I’ve only ever had one other friend like you in my life and I ruined it,” I say through sobs.
“Penelope, I’m hurt, so hurt, but I’m still your friend. Real friends don’t run just because of your last name or what you do for a living. I only wish you would’ve told us.” She grabs another napkin and hands it to me.
“I wish I had too,” I tell her honestly. “Do you think Brent knows?”
She hesitates. “I don’t know, but I’m going to assume yes.”
“Can I ask you how you found out? Is it only on social media?”
She pauses before she answers my question. “I saw it on Instagram—a picture of you at the bar. Someone I went to high school with shared it to their account. But some people said they saw a photo of you on the cover of a tabloid at the grocery store, too.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Brent was running errands with Nora today. What are the chances he doesn’t know yet and I get to tell him myself?”
“If I’m being honest with you, probably slim to none. I don’t think there’s anyone in here right now who doesn’t know. If he’s seen anyone today, or gone into the grocery store, then I’m sure he knows. I’m sorry, I know that isn’t what you want to hear, Penelope.”
She rubs my shoulder and gives me another napkin to wipe the fresh set of tears that are now streaming down my face.
We sit there for a few minutes in silence, before someone calls for Sally.
“I have to get that. Will you be okay?” she asks me before she moves to stand up.
“Thank you for understanding, Sally. I can’t say I’m sorry enough. I’ll regret not telling the truth forever.” I grab her hand and squeeze. “I’ll be fine. Can we talk later about this?”
“Of course we can,” she says as she walks away. “If I were you, I would try and talk to Brent as soon as you can. He isn’t always the most understanding person on the planet,” she calls over her shoulder.
I wipe my face with the napkin again and try to pull myself together. I can still feel the lingering stares, but I try to block it out. I should be used to this, people scrutinizing me.
But now it feels uncomfortable. So wrong.
After a few minutes, I decide I can’t just sit here. I need to find Brent and I need to do it fast. I’m scared of what he’s going to say, and if I'm being honest with myself, I don’t think he’ll be as understanding as Sally was.
I don’t want to lose him.
I mean, I may have already lost him for all I know, but I need to try and make things right.
But his disappointment in me, his rejection, it might just break me.
I’ll go right to the inn and find him as soon as possible. The less time that goes by, the better my chance of being the one to tell him.
Thankfully, Sally heads back to the table to check on me a short while later. “Can you wrap that up for me?” I point to my uneaten sandwich. “I’m going to go back to the inn and hope that Brent is there so I can talk to him.”
“I’m proud of you, Penelope. That’s really brave,” she says as she takes my plate and walks over to the counter to put the food in a box. “Don’t worry about paying for it, you can whenever you come back in. Just go find him.”
“Thank you, Sally. I’m so sorry, for everything.”
A flash goes off through the window, and I jump.
