November 9: A Novel(45)

We lie quietly for so long, I begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, his grip around me grows desperate. He tilts his face until it’s completely buried in my shirt, and his shoulders begin to shake as he starts to cry.

It feels like my heart explodes into millions of tiny tears, and I want to wrap myself around him while he mourns. But his cry is so quiet, I can tell he doesn’t want me to acknowledge it. He just needs me to let him cry, so that’s exactly what I do.

? ? ?

Five minutes pass before he pulls himself together, but half an hour passes before he finally pulls away from me. He lifts off my chest and lies down next to me on his pillow. I roll over to face him. His eyes are still red, but he’s no longer crying. He reaches to my face and brushes away a strand of hair, looking at me appreciatively.

“How did it happen?” I ask.

The sadness immediately reenters his eyes but he doesn’t hesitate with his answer.

“He was on his way home from work when his car ran off the road,” he says. “A slip of attention. Three seconds and he hit a damn tree. He and Jordyn were supposed to leave on vacation that night and I’m pretty sure he was texting her when it happened, based on what the police told me. I’m hoping she hasn’t figured that out yet, though. I hope she never does.” I quietly begin tracing my fingers over his hand. “She’s pregnant,” he adds.

My fingers pause their movement and I gasp.

“I know,” he says. “It’s shit luck. They’re supposed to be celebrating their anniversary this weekend.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but as soon as he brings it up, I think about Jordyn last year and the frenzy she was in as she prepared for her impending wedding with Kyle. And now, just one year later, she’s having to prepare for his impending funeral. “That’s so sad. How far along is she?”

“She’s due in February.”

I try to put myself in her shoes. I’m almost positive she’s twenty-four now. I can’t imagine being that young and losing a husband months before the birth of my first child. It’s incomprehensible.

“When do you go back to New York?” he asks.

“First thing tomorrow morning. I can stay at my mother’s tonight, though, if I need to. I have to be up really early.”

He brings his mouth to mine. “You aren’t sleeping anywhere but in this bed.”

A loud knock prevents his lips from reaching me and his attention moves to the door. It swings open and Ian walks in, looks at me and then does a double take.

He points at me, but is looking at Ben. “There’s a chick in your bed.”

We both sit up. When we do, Ian cocks his head, narrowing his eyes in my direction. “Wait. I’ve met you before. Fallon, right?”

I won’t lie; it feels good that his brother remembers me. Not that my face is one a person easily forgets. But he didn’t have to remember my name and he did, so that can only mean that girls aren’t in Ben’s bed very often.

“It was nice of you to come,” Ian says. “You hungry? Came up to let Ben know that dinner’s on the table.”

Ben groans as he scoots off the bed. “Let me guess. Casserole?”

Ian shakes his head. “Tate was craving pizza, so we ordered delivery.”

“Thank God.” Ben pulls me up. “Let’s go eat.”





Ben


“Let me get this straight,” Miles says, looking at me and Fallon from across the table. “You blocked each other on social media. You don’t know each other’s phone numbers, so no contact whatsoever. But you’ve met up every year since you were eighteen?”

“Crazy, huh?” Fallon says, lowering her glass to the table.

“It’s a little bit like Sleepless in Seattle,” Tate says.

I immediately shake my head. “It’s nothing like that. They only agreed to meet up once.”

“True. It’s like One Day, then. That movie with Anne Hathaway?”

Again, I dismiss her comparison. “That just focuses on one particular day every year, but the two people still interact throughout the year like normal. Fallon and I have no contact.” I don’t know why I’m being so defensive. I think writers just naturally become defensive when their ideas are compared to other ideas, even if it’s done innocently. But mine and Fallon’s story is one-of-a-kind, and I feel somewhat protective of it. Very protective of it, actually.

“When will you stop? Or do you plan on doing this for the rest of your lives?”

Fallon glances at me and smiles. “We stop when we’re twenty-three.”

“Why twenty-three?” Ian asks.

Fallon answers the next few questions being fired at us, so I use the opportunity to excuse myself from the conversation to refill my drink. I lean against the counter and watch all of them interact from the kitchen.

I’m happy she’s here. I feel like having her here somewhat eases the grief everyone is feeling. She wasn’t tied to Kyle in any way, so no one feels forced to walk on eggshells around her. She’s like the breath of fresh air we all needed this week. I know I already thanked her for coming today, but one day I’ll tell her exactly how much it means to me that she showed up.

She glances at me from her chair, and when she sees the small smile on my face, she excuses herself from the table and walks into the kitchen.