This Is Not How It Ends(54)

“Not really hungry tonight, darling. But I will be later.” I let him pull me closer so the two of us became one. And while we were finally in the same place physically, emotionally, we were miles apart.

Whenever uncomfortable subjects arose, whether on purpose or not, the best thing to do was discuss the weather. “Ben,” said Philip, “what do you hear about these upcoming storms they’re predicting?”

Ben kept an eye out for hurricanes and tropical storms like the rest of us, but his worry centered on the restaurant and its fragile foundation. Pierre’s was structurally more sound, but there was very little sustaining the beach café’s breezy framework that gave the area its open, island vibe. A strong storm had the potential to destroy his livelihood.

“I don’t have a good feeling,” he said. “They’re predicting a busy month.”

“Do you have precautions in place for the property?” Philip asked.

The conversation concerned me. I had heard about the dangerous storms that churned through the southern corridor, and Liberty’s tale of the skeletons washed on the shore stayed with me for some time. I had no idea how to prepare for a hurricane or a storm surge. My body tensed, and Philip could tell. “Don’t worry, Charley, the house is elevated for this very reason. It’s up to code with the proper storm shutters.”

“Aren’t most of the Keys in an evacuation zone?” Claudia asked.

“We are,” Ben replied. “And it’s hell getting out of here in a storm. If it’s anything like Irma—”

I ground my toes into the sand. I couldn’t think of anything worse than Philip being away while I was forced to secure the house and get Sunny and me out. Alone.

“Darling, relax.” He gently squeezed. “Everything’s going to be fine. Even in an emergency, you know I have men to help with the house and take you and Sunny to safety.” He looked squarely at Ben. “And my good friend over here won’t let anything happen to you. Right, Ben?”

Ben nodded. And rather than feeling comforted, I felt worse.

It occurred to me that I was the moody Judy at the table. Try as I might, I couldn’t get it under control. I didn’t want to be alone for an impending storm, and I didn’t want Ben—of all people—being forced to take care of me. The idea frightened me because I knew there was more than a storm barreling through the Lesser Antilles. A squall was forcing its way through me, circling close, and it made its presence known with the skies opening and a hard rain pouring down. The earth was reacting to our table, a mix of temperaments and temperatures. Scores of guests ran for cover, and Ben was in the thick of it, assisting with umbrellas, while the automatic awning rolled itself out. Claudia followed Philip, who stopped to assist an elderly couple, and I remained seated, drenched, unable to move.

Ben was the closest. “Get up, Charlotte.”

I shrugged him off. “I’m fine.”

Philip was literally carrying the older woman to shelter, yelling back for me from beneath the awning, “C’mon, Charley,” but my feet were planted in the sand. My jumpsuit was drenched. It was white and see-through and I didn’t care. Ben averted his eyes, ripped the tablecloth from off the table, and placed it around my shoulders. “Don’t be so stubborn.”

It was hard to see with the rain storming down and even harder to make sense of what was happening within me. Sure, I blamed Philip, but relationships were two-way streets, and everything leading to this point was within my control. Ben took my hand and pulled me up from the chair. Shivering, I followed him to where Philip was tending to the woman and her husband, joking about the fickle weather. We were pinned together. Philip’s shoulder jutted into mine, but it was Ben’s nearness that pressed against my back. Claudia was wedged nearby. The rain on her face gave her a fresh, dewy complexion.

I heard her whisper in Ben’s ear. “I hope I see you again.”

His response drifted through my ears. “You will.”





CHAPTER 24

September 2018

After our dinner with Claudia and Ben, it rained for two weeks straight, and I took it as a bad sign. The gods were weeping. For me. For us. The wedding plans were far from my reach, our future grim. The strain took its toll and fights erupted.

I fell in love with Philip knowing full well what I was getting myself into. We met on a plane; if that didn’t come to define who he was and how our love would eventually unfold, then what would? And every time I’d be angry and we’d bicker, he’d send a handwritten letter or dozens of my favorite flowers. Sometimes there was an expensive piece of clothing: I hope you’ll wear this when I get back. His words were beautiful and simple, and the love was ever present. The problem was that Philip wasn’t. Even when he was right beside me, we were far apart. We weren’t discussing the things central to our lives. Big things. We were coasting as though there was always tomorrow, letting the present slip us by. Guilt was creeping up inside of me. It didn’t feel good to be engaged to one man and longing for another, and the excuses were becoming tired. I had a choice. There was always a choice.

By then, Claudia and Ben were casually dating. She’d come down from Miami on the weekends and stay at the Moorings. I’d see them at the restaurant and smile, remarking on the matching baseball hats they recently purchased at a Dolphins game, envying the way they shared private jokes. Ben had every right to date someone else. I only wished it didn’t bother me so much. At times, I wondered who I was mad at. Philip or Ben. Or myself.