Part of Your World(91)

I looked around, not saying a word. It was bright and warm, like it wasn’t a part of the rest of the house. A king-size bed sat in the middle of it. There were plush chairs and a rose-colored bedspread. A framed photograph of a girl in a field of poppies. There was a small fridge pushed against the wall with a microwave on top and a Keurig. It was the only room that felt like the woman she was in Wakan.

It was the only place where I finally saw us.

She had knickknacks on her nightstand. Small treasures. Little things I’d made her, a raccoon I’d carved from wood, just something funny I’d whittled out in an hour. There was a jar of the strawberry jam we’d made a few weeks ago, one of my hoodies tossed over a chair.

The heart-shaped rock.

Souvenirs.

This was why she wanted me to see her house. It was worth a million words of explanation.

For the first time she came full circle for me. I finally saw all of her. She came together like a puzzle that had been missing pieces. It was like she was two different people.

And then I realized she was.

Who she was with me was who she was on vacation. Who she was in Wakan wasn’t real life.

This was her real life.

And I knew before she even said anything that she wasn’t going to ask me to be a part of it.

She sniffed, and she looked like she might start crying again. “My dad wants me to get back with Neil,” she said. “He loves him and won’t accept our breakup. Neil’s forcing me to live with him because he wants the house in the separation—and he wants me back,” she added. “I can’t leave my job to be with you because if I do I’ll break a hundred-and-twenty-five-year family legacy. And if you come here to be with me, you’ll lose your house and my parents won’t ever speak to me again.”

She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to sob. “So that’s where we are. I’m sorry, Daniel…”

I felt my throat get tight, and I forced myself to say the words I already knew the answer to. “Are you breaking up with me?” I asked, my voice thick.

She looked anguished. “We knew it wasn’t going to last. We got more time than I thought we would, and I’m so grateful for it.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

I felt like my heart was being crushed in my chest. And I didn’t even have anything to say because this wasn’t on me. I’d leave my life to be here if she wanted that. I’d learn to get used to all…this. I’d deal with it, because if the alternative was being without her, I could never choose it. But this wasn’t my choice. It wasn’t up to me to decide for her to be disowned or whatever the hell her parents would do.

And what a fucked-up thing to even put on someone. What kind of people were these?

But then I already knew.

For the first time I truly saw what she was trying to make me understand every time she told me this wouldn’t work out.

It wasn’t just a money gap or an age gap or even a social gap between us. It was everything. Her entire family conspiring against us. Her friends. Logistics. Fate. A thousand qualifiers that I’d never have, things that would have had to have happened at birth, generations ago, to help me now. A well-connected family, a better education, a more important place than Wakan.

All we had was our love for each other. That’s all we had.

None of the other parts worked or fit or made sense.

But I didn’t need it to make sense, because for me the love was everything, it was all I needed.

But it wasn’t enough for her.

People don’t stay in Wakan. They come and they have a magical time, and then they go back to their real lives. I’d fallen in love with a tourist. Because that’s what she was.

And the vacation was over.

My eyes were tearing up. “Alexis, please. Come home with me. Or let me stay. Don’t make me leave you…”

Her chin quivered, and she looked away from me.

“Please don’t do this,” I whispered.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “One day you’re going to realize the mistake you’re making. Please, Alexis. Realize it now.”

She wouldn’t. She didn’t. She made me leave five minutes later.





Chapter 34

Alexis



Every day since I broke up with Daniel a month ago, I went through the motions like a robot.

I woke up, took a shower, went to work. On my infrequent days off, I slept. All day. And my dreams were worse than reality.

I dreamed of Daniel mostly. Of Wakan and the Grant House, running through the rooms, looking for him. And when I woke up, I’d feel around for a second to find him, only to remember he wasn’t there and never would be again.

I was always tired now. And my brain was misfiring.

I couldn’t remember the stained glass on the landing. It was the oddest thing. It was just gone from my memory, like Wakan had decided to keep it when I left. Was it a garden? Or deer in a meadow? Or a mosaic? It bothered me so much, I went to TripAdvisor to see if anyone had posted pictures, and there wasn’t a single one. One of the most beautiful things in the house, and nobody had taken a photo? The only one I found of it was a black-and-white of the staircase on a website about historic Minnesota homes. It was taken the year the house was built. But the window was completely black. Like the camera had malfunctioned.