The Speed of Light: A Novel(48)

“Mm-hmm. Mom promised my cousin she and her kids could stay here, so she offered to pay for us to stay at one of our nation’s finest establishments, the Holiday Inn.”

“Well, what a coincidence.” Connor’s smile is mischievous. “That happens to be my new favorite hotel chain.”



The family fun goes later than expected, though, with lawn games and card games and board games galore, like a party store exploded on my parents’ property. We finally say our goodbyes, trying desperately not to drag it out Midwest-style as we fight our way toward the doorway. Soon the wine and the long drive earlier that day converge into a cocoon of sleepiness.

At the hotel, the moment I step into the room, any remaining ounce of energy saps out of me. When Connor leaves to haul up the rest of our bags, I flop down onto the massive bed, snuggle up onto a cozy white pillow, and rest my eyes.

Suddenly I startle at the sound of the door clamping shut. I’m facing away, but I hear Connor’s footsteps cross the carpeting; then the bed dips as he lies down behind me, wrapping his strong arm around me.

“Was I sleeping?” I’m flustered, head fuzzy as I struggle to wake fully. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Connor says softly. “But are you okay?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed at this new level of vulnerability. We’re not discussing a theoretical symptom—he’s actually witnessing it. “I’m just . . . so tired.” I don’t know how to describe it, how this fatigue is beyond normal exhaustion, how it fills up my insides until my limbs are so heavy and my body refuses to function any further, like a computer shutting down. Connor slips his hand into mine, and I turn to face him at last. “I know this isn’t how you wanted tonight to go,” I say softly.

But he just smiles. “Tonight’s seemed pretty perfect to me.” He pulls my hand to his lips, and I’m flooded with warmth, with relief. “Do you want to just go back to sleep?”

“Mm, maybe we can talk?” I say, but my eyes are already closed again.

I hear his soft chuckle, feel it in his chest as he wraps his arms around me again. We lie together in silence, but scenes from tonight dance in my mind until one pops forward, waking me enough to speak. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You said the anniversary is coming up. When?”

“June tenth.”

“Would you like to . . . honor it in some way?”

Connor sighs. “My family wants to do something when we’re all together over the Fourth of July. But that day, I just want to be as normal as possible. Just get through it.” He squeezes my hand. “I miss him every day; the anniversary will be no different.”

I smile. “Tell me about him.”

“He was the charmer. Also the wiseass, but his charm could get him out of trouble.” I feel his laughter against me again. “He always wanted to open his own bar. We actually talked about opening one together.”

“Ah, your business-management degree.”

There’s a pause. “I majored in business management. Never actually finished. Things, uh . . . well, things kinda went to hell my senior year.”

I peek an eye open. “What happened?”

Connor sighs. “Long story. I mean, ultimately it was my own fault—I’m the one who chose to skip class, party . . . I fell behind a semester. Then I got a job one summer working construction. I enjoyed it; the money was good. So that was it, I guess. I just didn’t go back to school.”

I hesitate for a moment, unsure what to say. “You could always go back. Get your degree. Or open a bar like you guys planned.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

The silence is heavy, waking me fully. “Can I ask another question?”

He chuckles. “You don’t have to keep asking if you can ask a question.”

“Okay . . . well, I guess you never told me what happened?” I add quickly, “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

This time the pause lasts so long that I fear I’ve crossed a line.

But at last Connor sighs again. “Cam and I used to go out. A lot. We slowed down a bit after he and Arielle got married, slowed down even more after Ella was born. But we didn’t slow down enough.” I wait, lulled by the rhythm of our breathing, the murmur of the television, the weight of expectation, of a secret he’s about to reveal. “One night he drove when he shouldn’t have.”

I force myself to push through the fatigue, propping up on my elbow. But he’s staring at some point on the wall, pained eyes focused on the past, watching a movie that must play over and over in his mind.

“I wasn’t there,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

I reach for his hand. “Do you really think you could have stopped him?”

“We always closed down the bar together, and I was the one who called the cab, or Lyft, or whatever. But I left with someone that night.” Connor stops again, and the room is heavier. He looks at me as if he’s forcing himself to, punishment that’s self-inflicted. He’s begun his confession and needs to see it through. “After Diana and I broke up, I didn’t date anyone for a long time,” he says, and the name jolts me—it’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. “Then when I tried to date again, it was terrible. One shitty date after another. So I kind of gave up, and stuck to”—he clears his throat—“more short-term commitments.”