This Is Not How It Ends(84)

When I opened my eyes, the two of them were staring at me.

Claudia got up first. She was freshly painted into a black sarong that accentuated her breasts and firm thighs. Her lips were a lush, deep red, and a faint blush covered her cheeks as she greeted me with a wave.

“Charlotte! It’s me . . .”

I let her hug me, though I had no interest in hearing any more condolences. I knew she was sorry. Everybody was sorry. Sorry didn’t bring people back.

“Philip expected great things from us. He expected it from all of us.” She placed her hand on her hip. “I miss Philip every fucking day. We all do. But I’m going to do great things. For him. For all those who can’t. And you should, too.” Then she had a crazy idea. “Come sit with us. We’ll toast the shit out of Philip.”

Ben waved across the bar. It didn’t occur to Claudia that he stayed seated, but it occurred to me. Why bog her down with what we’d lost? Philip wasn’t the only casualty.

I tried to wave her off. “You two enjoy your alone time.”

She responded minus an inkling of understanding. “We’ve had plenty of that lately.” And she winked before reaching for my beach bag and tugging me along.

Dread climbed up my legs. Ben and I hadn’t seen each other or spoken in some time. He had finally given up on the phone calls and texts. It was an unsatisfying relief.

He stood up, and the pull toward him caught me at once. I wished I were imagining it. I wished the space that surrounded him didn’t call out to me like a palm against my skin. He leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I smelled him again. Ben.

“Hey, Charlotte.” The greeting was stiff and formal. “How are you?”

Our eyes met in a guarded place. “I’m okay.”

Claudia moved over for me to sit, a half-eaten salad nearby. “Charlotte, order something.”

Ben gave her a questioning look.

“Honey,” she said, “you just finished telling me how you two don’t see each other much anymore. This was meant to be.” She turned to me. “Right, Charlotte?”

I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. Honey.

Claudia ordered another round of drinks while I stuck with water but asked for a salad. She relented, and I soon realized that the drink would’ve eased the tension, lessened the barrage of her questions. Ben was watching me—glaring, rather. He was trying to get me to look at him, and like everything else about him, I refused. If I looked at him, I’d remember. If I remembered, I’d lose myself again. I would never do that again.

“How’ve you been?” he asked for the second time.

“I’m doing all right.”

“We don’t see you much at the restaurant,” he said. “Jimmy asks about you.”

Claudia interjected. The lawyer in her had little to no filter. “It’s got to be horribly sad for Charlotte to go to the place she frequented with the love of her life, Ben. Morada Bay holds all those memories. Their love story happened right there on that sand.”

Ben cleared his throat and took a swig of his beer. His eyes fell, and he pursed his lips, holding everything back. Then he changed his mind. “I know exactly what Charlotte’s going through.”

Claudia realized her mistake and returned to her salad. Only, I knew what Ben meant. He meant me and him. He meant the evenings we’d spent talking under the moonlight, the music we’d listened to without saying a word. It was our story that had come to an end.

If there’s one thing Philip taught me, it was to live boldly. “So when did you two get back together?”

Claudia swallowed a bite of salad and waved her hand in the air. “Oh, that little time away thing? We couldn’t stay away too long.” Her fingers traveled across the table and took hold of Ben’s. He hesitated at first, but then gave in.

“How’s Jimmy doing?” I asked.

“Good,” Ben answered. “Jimmy’s good. His grandparents are excited about the move. He’s painting a lot. We’re going to open a new restaurant in the City . . .”

“Tell her the news, Ben!” Claudia practically jumped out of her seat.

“There’s more?” I asked, pulling off my fakest smile.

Ben picked over his mahi-mahi sandwich, and I could tell he was miserable. Ben was someone I’d studied for months. His eyes gave him away. They could be acutely aware, pensive, or satisfied. They could want with an extraordinary desire, the kind that knocked the wind out of you. Ben was really unhappy at the moment.

“Not now, Claudia.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, “Charlotte’s one of your best friends. Tell her!”

“Yes, Ben.” I stared back. “Tell me the great news.”

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Claudia finished his thought. “I’m moving to New York with him! The firm’s transferring me to the Manhattan office.”

I knew I should count to ten and breathe, but numbers wouldn’t form. “Wow! That’s terrific news.” Terrific was one of those words old ladies threw around at bridge games. Helen, what a terrific tuna salad. I almost laughed out loud until I heard Philip’s voice in my brain. Fabulous, dahling. Just fabulous news. Because I really couldn’t think of a wittier response. The news lodged in my belly and twisted.

“It’s fantastic, right?” Claudia beamed.