AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Yes. Oh my God. Yes. Yes, I will.’
Sketch is on his feet instantly. In spite of my best efforts to stand tall, he’s still a head and shoulders over me. He takes the ring out of the box, and I notice his fingers are shaking. If he was nervous about my answer, he certainly hid it. He takes my hand in his, and I spread my fingers like a fan. He slides the ring on. It’s a little big, but it feels fabulous nonetheless.
‘I love it,’ I say, euphoric. ‘And I love you.’
Sketch scoops me into his arms and spins me around and around. I throw my head back, enjoying becoming dizzy.
‘Everything is going to be perfect, Annie. Just you wait,’ Sketch says, finally putting me down.
I believe him. Everything already is.
Sketch and I spend the next three-quarters of an hour or so dancing to nothing more than the music in our heads. We stop and kiss. Then dance some more. It’s by far the most wonderful night of my entire life. But as always, it comes to an end.
‘I have to go,’ Sketch says. ‘Your mother will be waiting.’
‘Oh my God. Ma,’ I say, running a worried hand over my hair.
What will happen to my mother when Sketch and I are married?Without me there to share the burden, Pa will take all his anger out on her. I was so caught up in blissful happiness I forgot to think about how all this would affect my mother. How could I be so selfish? So stupid? There is no fairy-tale ending. Not for a girl like me.
I slide the ring off my finger and offer it back to Sketch. He stares at me blankly, and my heart breaks, knowing how much I’m about to hurt him.
‘I’m sorry.’ I’m finding it hard to breathe. ‘I can’t marry you.’
Sketch’s bottom lip falls, and I could swear my heart has stopped beating.
‘I… I… don’t understand,’ he stutters.
‘Please, Sketch. Just go. This is already so hard. I can’t bear it any longer,’ I cry. ‘Please go. You have to.’ Sketch opens the box, takes the ring, and places it back inside. The box shuts with an angry snap and startles me. Countless questions are written across Sketch’s face. But I know he’s too much of a gentleman to ask a single one. Besides, he doesn’t have to ask. He knows me inside out.
Sketch is suddenly so lost, like a puppy who has strayed too far from home. I want to reach out to him, to touch him and comfort him, but it would be unfair to give him false hope. I curl my fingers and jam my hands firmly by my sides. Sketch looks me in the eye, shakes his head and stuffs the box into his pocket.
‘I love you, Annie Fagan,’ he says, shuffling on the spot. ‘I always have, and I always will. Remember that.’
I watch as Sketch turns slowly and walks away. He doesn’t look back. I want to shout after him. I want to explain, at least. But he’ll only try to find a solution to a problem we can’t solve, and my heart already hurts more than I can cope with.
THIRTY-SIX
HOLLY
‘These two had some serious communication issues,’ Ben says, standing up to pace Nana’s hospital room.
‘Ben, Jesus. Have some respect,’ I scold, memorising the page of the manuscript that we’ve paused on, and shuffle to one side of the chair to make room for the mound of paper that I set down beside me. ‘It was the fifties,’ I offer as an explanation, softening. ‘People didn’t go around wearing their heart on their sleeve back then like they do today.’
‘Really?’ Ben snorts. ‘You think people are more open and honest nowadays?’
I nod, certain. ‘Yeah. Of course, they are. There’s less to be afraid of now.’
‘Like what?’ Ben shrugs.
‘Like lots of things. Race, sexuality, that kind of thing. C’mon, Ben.’ I roll my eyes. I’m in no mood to get into a history lesson.
‘I’m not talking about stuff like that, Hols. I’m talking about day-to-day normal people and how they behave. I don’t think much has changed at all. People still fuck up perfectly good relationships because they’re too afraid to say what they really feel. Nate’s a good guy, Holly.’
I drill two fingers into my forehead and close my eyes. My brother has a way of getting under my skin like no one else, and it’s infuriating. Even more so because I understand the point he’s trying to make.Dammit, I hate when he’s all mature and sensible.
Opening my eyes, I find Nate sleeping, or pretending to be, at the far side of the room. He’s poured into a corner chair that’s way too small for him to curl up in, but he attempts it anyway. I notice his eyes flicker at the mention of his name.
‘Ben,’ I growl, warning my brother not to say any more. Not in front of Nana.
