This Is Not How It Ends(96)

I didn’t answer him with words.





THIS IS NOT HOW IT ENDS

Ben had never sold the Islamorada home. It turned out he had contracted with TINHIE for a mere six months. He’d signed on for their opening, helped them get established, and then planned on focusing on his other restaurants. Claudia was an unforeseen circumstance he hadn’t factored into the equation. “I had to get away from the island, Charley. I had to get away from you.”

“What about Jimmy’s grandparents?”

“They hate New York. They begged me to stay. They wanted to move here—escape the cold winters.”

I rolled over in our love shack. “You left because of me?”

“That wasn’t our ending, Charley. I told you that months ago.”

“And the restaurant?” I asked, squeezing his fingers. “Will they keep the name?”

“They hated that name. It was the one thing that kept me tied to you, Charley. It was speaking to you when I couldn’t. If I held on to the idea, maybe it would be true.”

“It’s a weird name.”

He nuzzled me. “You’re weird, so it’s perfect.”



The house in Islamorada sold after only four days, though I didn’t have to be out until Labor Day. I stood in the doorway, staring down the barrel of memories. Philip was everywhere. In the bookshelves. In the floors. In the view we’d stared at for not even a year. I donated the money from the sale to pancreatic cancer research and moved in with Ben. Only it wasn’t in New York.

By the end of summer, Ben, Jimmy, and Sari’s parents, Caren and Nick, had returned to Islamorada for good. After a week of my sneaking home in the middle of the night, Jimmy cornered me. “I’m not a baby anymore, Charley. It’s okay to have a sleepover.” Jimmy had sprouted since I’d seen him last. He wasn’t the shy, closed-off boy I’d once met. When he walked away, I smiled, thinking about the life we were creating together. The next day, I stepped through their door with my suitcases. Jimmy helped me carry them to Ben’s and my room.

Sari’s parents moved down the street. We met over coffee at Morada Bay, where they were welcoming Ben back—for good. Caren was quiet at first. I could tell how much it pained her to meet the woman who she felt was taking her daughter’s place. When the men got up to talk shop, I reached across the table for her hand. “I’ll never take Sari’s place. Ever. She’s very much a part of our lives.”

She softened, appraising me. She must have been a pretty woman, like her daughter, but the loss had creased her face. Her hair was in a short dark bob, with strands of gray threaded through. Her brown eyes captured a never-ending sadness.

Voice trembling, she spoke. “I know what you did for Philip. Ben loved him very much.”

“We both did.”

We were sitting on the Pierre’s side of the property, so our chairs were thicker and plusher. The beach was deserted, the sand flattened. I narrowed in on the water because of its soothing effect, the waves lessening any tension. “I think back to that time when it was the three of us. We loved each other so much.” She eyed me intently. “We would’ve done anything for each other.” I paused before finishing. “Even if we had to hurt each other along the way.”

She nodded her head, and I saw a tear spring from her eye. “We all make sacrifices for those we love, Charlotte.”

“Please,” I said, “call me Charley.”

“Thank you for loving Ben, Charley. And for being so kind to our grandson.”

My throat knotted up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of us. Opening your heart again makes you vulnerable. I won’t hurt them, Caren. Not Ben. Not Jimmy.”

She reached across the table with her free hand. “I know that. Thank you for including us in your life.”

I smiled a wide grin. “I should be thanking you.”

The men returned, and Nick handed Caren a handkerchief from his pocket and winked at me. “Leave these two alone for a minute and see what happens.”



In the beginning, I walked Old Highway with Sunny, wearing a shiny ring on my finger and holding an unfinished tale in my pocket. I remembered the day being much like today. Sweltering hot, the humidity so thick you could catch it in your palm. There was no way of telling how the story would turn out, no way of knowing that the ring would slip off my finger into the hands of another while a young boy clung to life.

The long table at Morada Bay was perched beside the famous bended palm. Ben and I, Jimmy, Caren and Nick, Liberty, a man Liberty had just begun to date, my father, Julius, Polly, and Sunny. There was an empty seat at the table that was left there on purpose. A seat that symbolized the people we had loved and lost, the people who would forever remain.

The restaurant was crowded with guests celebrating Ben’s return. Brett was playing all our favorites. Eagles. James Taylor. Don Henley. Sunny loved Don Henley. Our table was happily buzzed, swaying to the music, singing along with the words. Ben’s arm came around my shoulder, and he whispered in my ear. “Jimmy wants to show you something.”

The boy appeared between us. He was holding a small painting, and when he saw he had our attention, he turned it around for us to see.

“Jimmy!” I shrieked, as all eyes at the table turned in our direction.