The Wedding Veil(34)

“But I will be!” he interjected. “Why can’t you understand that? Yeah, I’m not perfect, but Jules, I swear to God, I have only ever loved you. And I promise you that once we’re married I will never even look at another woman. Don’t you believe that?”

“I want to,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s your nature. And that’s okay. You’ll find your person. But I’m not going to trap you in this box when I know I’m setting us both up for failure.” I paused. It didn’t matter now, did it? But I had to know. “How long were you sleeping with Chrissy Matthews?”

He exhaled sharply, stood up, and started pacing. I knew I had shocked him because he was right: this was our pattern. I was embarrassed that it had taken me this long to realize it—and to recognize that it was destructive. When Babs or Sarah, who were the only real insiders, would point out their concerns, I reasoned that they’d never known love like this. It was only now that I could see they had been right all along: this wasn’t love; it was a vicious cycle.

He paused, obviously debating whether he should tell the truth about Chrissy. Finally, he spoke. “Okay, so I slept with her a couple times,” he said sheepishly. “I’m not proud of it, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

I knew it. But hearing him say it still hurt. “A couple times?”

He waved his hand. “A few. But it was stupid and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He got down on his knees in front of me. “You’re my family, Jules. Your family is my family. Your mom was the one who took me to get my wisdom teeth out and your dad coached my travel basketball team. We’ve been on every family vacation together for years. Remember when we went to Key West and the streets flooded and we ran around barefoot for days in the rain?” He was talking fast now, almost frantically.

I remembered. And it hurt to let it go. “Surely you don’t want to live the rest of your life like this. Do you want to be eighty and relying on some stories from when we were sixteen to keep us together?”

He got up and started pacing again, glaring at me. “Is this about him? Is this about Conner?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. It is. I’m throwing away a decade because of an architect I met in the airport. Come on, Hayes.”

“Well, is it about that rumor with Selena because—”

I put my hand up. I might not always trust this man, but after she called, I was absolutely certain that Selena from HR was not interested in Hayes from Investments.

“No, Hayes. If this is about anyone it’s Chrissy Matthews, but that isn’t even really it. And you know it.”

“Let’s go get a drink, hang out on the beach, sleep on it,” he said, sounding desperate.

He wasn’t hearing me. But we couldn’t fix this. I couldn’t fix Hayes, no matter how many times I tried. And it was time for me to accept that.

“Not this time, Hayes,” I said softly. “I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you. But we’re done.”

He looked at me blankly, as if not comprehending. So I walked through the sliding glass door of my room, rustled around in my suitcase, and, back on the porch, attempted to place my diamond solitaire in his palm. He put his hands up. “I don’t want that back,” he said. “I bought it for you. And I want you to keep it.”

I thought it was another ploy, but the way he looked at me, I knew that he finally understood. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, and I let him, tears flowing. This was goodbye. As he left my room, I felt like practically half of my life was walking away down the stairs.

I watched him step onto the path. He stopped, standing still. Then he looked up and called, “Jules, I was trying to do a dramatic leaving scene, but I seriously don’t have anywhere to go. The hotel is full, and there aren’t any flights until tomorrow.”

I sighed. We were pretty remote here. It wasn’t like he could run over to the closest Comfort Suites. I called down to him: “You can stay on a rollaway tonight. And then I want you gone.”

He nodded sadly.

I looked at him seriously.

“I hear you. I swear. We’re through.” He paused. “But don’t you think it shows growth that I didn’t try to pick up a girl on the beach and stay with her instead?”

I picked up one of the flowers in the vase between the two rocking chairs and threw it at him.

I would miss him. I knew I would. But I had decided my fate. One more night wouldn’t change a thing.





BABS Infatuation





I think the two-bedroom is going to suit you nicely, Mrs. Carlisle,” Anna, the perky woman showing me around Summer Acres, was saying. Her background led me to believe she was in her mid-forties, but her shiny ponytail, light dusting of freckles, and shorts made her seem much younger. I couldn’t help but think that “Summer Acres” sounded like the name of a farm where people sent their lame horses and biting dogs. But Summer Acres was absolutely lovely, more like one of those charming planned communities than an over-sixty retirement village.

As Anna opened the door to a beautifully built town home on a street of beautifully built town homes, I felt myself relax. It was small and bright with neighbors very close by.

“We can change the countertops to your liking,” she said as we entered the kitchen, despite the fact that the white Corian was clean, versatile, and perfect for me. “And the units on this street come with a screened porch—and, of course, a view of the lagoon.”