Love Me for Me (19 page)

She watched him for a reaction but there were no tears hiding in his eyes, no contemplation anymore. He’d made his choice. He wasn’t waiting around. Maybe he never was. All of the troubles she’d had recently didn’t even compare to this. This
hurt
. It hurt more than anything she’d experienced.

The wind and the engine were the only sounds between them as they drove back to the cottage. If she dared to speak, she’d lose it and make a spectacle of herself. Instead, she looked straight ahead, watching the possibilities trail behind them with the scenery outside. She was leaving this life behind, and there was no turning back now. Libby thought about Pete’s words the rest of the way home.

L
ibby’s
new apartment was nice. The living area was about as spacious as she could get for a one-bedroom in the city, the galley kitchen was just enough for her to move around, and the bedroom was dark at night and bright in the morning. She could hear the sound of traffic on the street below. To others, it may be an annoyance, but to her it had always been exhilarating. She hoped that the exhilarating feeling would return soon because she didn’t feel it just yet.

Already her calendar was filling up for the week. She’d spent the last few days unpacking her things, decorating the new space, and trying unsuccessfully to clear her head. She kept replaying the events in her mind from that day at the bench in the woods, trying to find some way not to blame herself, but in the end, she kept coming back to the fact that Pete’s rejection was all her fault. She’d never considered what he wanted, and now he wanted a life that didn’t include her. Every time she thought about it, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to crawl into bed and stay there—cry into her pillow and never get back out.

She had Trish’s bridal brunch today and the wedding on Saturday. She’d had a haircut, a manicure, and half her wardrobe had been dry-cleaned. It was Libby’s last weekend before starting her new job at Riddick Wiesner, and she wanted to be at the top of her game, but she felt so low that she didn’t know how she was going to think about anything other than how she’d wrecked her life by her selfish behavior.

Since the shower, she hadn’t seen Trish. She’d wanted to get herself together before jumping back into her old life. As she stood in front of her reflection in the full-length mirror, it was difficult to see past her own thoughts. She looked the part; everything was the same as it had been before she’d gone back home. On the outside, she was just as she’d always been, but on the inside something had shifted, changed.

She thought about seeing Trish and being prepared to keep up with her, but the more she thought about it, the more she didn’t really care about one-upping her friend. Perhaps all those times, Trish had been genuinely concerned about her, and maybe she hadn’t been trying to be better than Libby at all. She found herself feeling happy for Trish, glad she was having the wedding she’d always wanted.

Pop’s issues had put the little things into perspective. In the end, she may not have all the things Trish had, or be married with a family, but she was healthy, and she still had time to do everything she wanted. The wedding dresses, the honeymoon locations—it all seemed unimportant now because what she wanted the most was to be with that one person who made her the happiest. She didn’t care anymore where they lived, what they’d do, where they were going. She just wanted to be with him. She tried to push away the sinking feeling of knowing that she wouldn’t get to be with Pete. She needed to make this day about Trish, even if it took all the energy she had to make herself smile.

The yellow taxi pulled up against the curb outside and she took the stairs down to the lobby and out to the street. It was a magnificently bright New York day so she slipped on the Gucci sunglasses she’d gotten herself as a reward for getting her new job, and slid into the backseat of the taxi. With everything now in place, it was time to try and get back to her regular life.

“West Houston Street, please,” she said. Off they sped.

The towering structures slipped past her window. They were a definite change from the pines back home. The diesel fumes, the traffic, the vast expanses of concrete, she saw them all in a different way now. She paid more attention to them. The taxi idled at a stop light and she looked over at a man walking his dog, and wondered why Pete had never gotten a dog. She envisioned a Labrador bounding past them into the water to retrieve a tennis ball. He should definitely have a dog. But then again, maybe it would be too much with Pop there.

Tears were clouding her eyes as she thought about how she’d never get to see whether Pete got a dog. He was moving on without her, and it made her feel like her feet were stuck in cement, every movement she made taking all the effort she could muster because she really just wanted to crumble to the ground. She shook her head to break free from the thought, and her vision cleared, the man and his dog now behind her as the car began to pick up speed toward her destination.

The taxi pulled up at the restaurant. Libby paid her fare and headed inside.

“So glad you’re here!” Trish came over to her, wearing the most stunning outfit Libby had ever seen her wear—clearly one of her wedding purchases. “How are you?” Trish nearly squealed. She kissed Libby on both cheeks.

“I’m very well!” Libby lied, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head.

“I was worried you were going to fall in love with that cottage and never come back! Weren’t you thinking about staying?”

The comment caused her to make a tiny gasp as she felt her chest tighten to the point where she couldn’t get enough air. She cleared her throat to play it off.
It wasn’t the cottage I fell in love with
, she thought. She remembered her one-to-one comment to Trish when she’d first gotten to the cottage. She could see the empty house in her mind, the For Sale sign in the front yard. The mental picture was hanging somewhere between reality and a memory, still so fresh that she could close her eyes and smell the salty air. The sun on the horizon, the sand on her feet, the crickets at night…

“You look like you might be considering that cottage,” Trish said.

“You know,” Libby forced a smile, “I absolutely love it there, but New York was calling. I couldn’t stay away.”

“I’m so glad. And you did a fantastic job with this brunch! Everything looks gorgeous.”

“Well, it only took a few phone calls. Let’s have a seat so we can chat before everyone arrives.”

Libby and Trish sat down at the table as a waitress poured iced water into their goblets. The sun was streaming through the oversized glass windows at an angle, its rays catching on the dark wood floor. The interior of the place was so different from the little restaurants back home—the columns, wood tables, trendy staff, and glossy decor. She sipped her water and took in a deep breath. Everything she’d wanted for so long was right in front of her now—the new job, being back in New York, the apartment—but she couldn’t see any of it. All she could see was what she’d lost, what she’d never have, and Libby realized that it was more valuable than anything she’d ever worked for.

She thought a lot about her mother. Celia had been both right and wrong, and it had knocked Libby sideways once she realized it. Her mother was right in that Libby could be successful, eventually wealthy, and have opportunities to advance in a big city. Celia knew what it took to have that life, and she’d done an excellent job grooming Libby to do it. But she’d been wrong, too. She’d painted a picture of back home that wasn’t accurate. No one was judging her; they were interested, concerned. More people had gotten to know her there than in all the time she’d lived in New York. They could’ve just passed by like people do in the city, but they hadn’t. They’d asked her questions, made her laugh, brought her into their lives. She already missed them all. Where in the city would people call her by name when she entered a store, or wave at her just for walking by?

“So! Are you bringing a date to the wedding? I gave you a plus one,” Trish said.

In the past, this would have felt like a one-to-one comment, but now, it was just a question to Libby.

“No one yet!” she smiled. She told Trish about how Wade had tried to get back together again, and she told her what she thought about him and his roses.

It didn’t take long before she and Trish were talking like they always had. Trish dished the latest on all the gossip she’d missed, and got Libby caught up on the wedding drama involving two caterers and a sick florist. Little by little the guests arrived, and brunch was served.

T
he next morning
, Libby sat on the edge of her bed with her phone in her hand. The sound of honking and engines outside did nothing to calm her thoughts today. She’d just gotten an email from the real estate agent. A family with a little boy had put in an offer on the cottage. Perhaps he would find his way over to Thomas and Matthew. What kept coming back to her was that Pop and Nana’s house was gone. It would belong to someone else now. Part of her was nostalgic for all of the memories she’d had there, but another part of her was ready to let it go so another family could enjoy it. She had nothing tying her down anymore. She was free to carry on with her life.

Although he probably knew already, just because word spread so quickly in White Stone, she decided to text Pete and tell him the news. Her fingers tingled as they moved along the screen of her phone. She typed:
Morning. Wanted to tell you Pop’s house sold.

Almost instantly, he responded:
Sorry you’re homeless when you come for a visit. Good thing you have your mom. How are you?

She typed:
I’m well.
She wasn’t well. She was heartbroken. Just seeing his words made the hurt of not having him come back. Who would have thought that at the young age of eighteen, she’d have already had everything she needed in life? Pete had loved her and he was making plans to move forward with her then. They could have gone to college together, and who knows where they’d be right now—maybe as perfect as Pop and Nana. But she’d blown it. She’d lost her chance because she couldn’t see what was right in front of her until it was too late. He’d moved on with his life, and there was nothing she could do about it. She felt her bottom lip start to tremble, and she closed her eyes before the tears could start.

She missed him. If only she could see that grin playing at the corners of his mouth, the friendliness in his face, the warmth behind his eyes. She missed the way his head turned to the side just slightly when she was talking, how he leaned forward a tiny bit in interest. She missed the sight of him with his hands in his pockets whenever he was standing. She missed the feel of his hand in hers. Those things weren’t hers to have anymore. They weren’t ever meant for her. Would he look at someone else with doting eyes and that smile of his? Her stomach burned with the thought.

She typed back:
How do you think Pop feels about the sale?

She looked up from her phone. Her apartment seemed more sparse than it had in the past few days. And quiet. No one stopped by to say hello, she didn’t know her neighbors and, while coming and going, she’d only seen a handful of people more than once.

As she waited for Pete’s response, she remembered the way it felt lying on his chest that morning, his arms around her, his hand on her hip, the feel of his steady breathing. She could lie like that indefinitely. She’d been so quick to get up, to move things along, that she’d missed out on more of that feeling. What if the best moments of life were spent being still? As she sat in her apartment, trepidation settled inside her because she knew the answer already. Being in New York wasn’t as important as being with people she loved.

Just like Nana’s story about the rug: All the earnings and accolades were just things; things don’t make us happy. People do. Now Pete didn’t want to be with her, and she was miserable in New York because she couldn’t be with him. A wave of fear swept over her, prickling her skin from the inside out because she realized in that moment that she didn’t have a plan for this, she didn’t know how to fix it. And what worried her most was that she didn’t know if it could ever be fixed.

Her phone pinged. Her heart fell as she read Pete’s answer:
Honestly, lately, he doesn’t even remember that house. He’s losing it, Libby. A few days here and there, he didn’t remember my name. The good news—if you can call it that—is that he hasn’t wanted to take walks lately. He spends most of his time in his room.

She stared at his words until the screen on her phone went black. She sat in silence, tears welling up in her eyes and then spilling over. She felt so far away. She wanted to talk to Pop—about anything—so she could have those last few moments of the real him before the disease stole him from her. She knew there probably wasn’t much time left, and she felt guilty for not being there. A runaway tear chased another down her cheek, and she wiped them with the back of her hand.

If it weren’t for Trish’s wedding, she’d be on a plane immediately. She wanted every minute with Pop, so she wouldn’t miss a single moment when he was lucid.

I want to be with him
, she typed. The tears were coming faster, one after another, with no end in sight. Her heart ached for Pop.

The phone pinged again.
The minute he’s himself again, I’ll be sure to tell him that you miss him. Promise.

She needed Pete’s hug. She needed him to hold her hand. No one else could make the hurt any better. But she couldn’t have any of it. The reality of that was like a boulder on her chest. The sound of engines outside began to make her ears ring as she sat, alone, trying to figure out how to get herself together. She had to get ready for work, and she hadn’t been there long enough to take a day off.

Another ping. She opened the screen and read:
Libby, I know you want to be here and you can’t. I’ll give him enough love for the both of us. I’m right at the other end of your phone if you want to check in on him. Go get ready for work. You’re going to be late.

The last bit made her smile, her unremitting tears still falling. How did he know she wasn’t getting ready? With a deep breath, she got up and walked into the bathroom for a shower.