Part 3I Learned How to Enjoy Being Alone

The next morning, I woke up at six.

I ironed my white blouse three times, pinned my hair up and took it down again, then finally settled on the style Shane had once said looked good on me.

A little after seven, he called, his voice low.

"I'm on my way. I got you breakfast and black coffee, with no sugar."

I tightened my grip on the phone. "Okay."

Twenty minutes later, his car pulled up at the curb. I was just about to walk over when the back window rolled down, revealing Sophie inside with a cooling patch still on her forehead.

She smiled at me. "Wendy, I'm just going to the hospital for a follow-up on the way. I won't hold you two up."

Shane got out and handed me the breakfast.

"Eat a little first. Don't take the photos on an empty stomach."

I looked down at the bag. The breakfast sandwich was from my favorite place, and the coffee really was unsweetened.

Then Sophie made a small sound from inside the car.

"Shane, I feel like I can't catch my breath."

His expression changed instantly. He opened the door and touched her forehead.

"Why are you so hot?"

Sophie caught his wrist. "Don't worry about me. Go inside with Wendy first. Today is important."

But the more she said that, the less likely Shane was to leave.

He looked at me. "Go in and take a number first. I'll get her to the hospital, have them start an IV, and come right back."

I stared at him. "Shane, today is our marriage registration appointment."

"I know."

"If they call our number and we miss it, we'll have to make another appointment."

"I'll make it back in time."

He sounded certain, just as he did every time he promised me something.

So I went into the building alone.

They called my number three times, and Shane still hadn't arrived. Once I'd missed my turn, the clerk handed my paperwork back to me.

"You'll have to reschedule."

I stood there holding the documents when my phone suddenly lit up.

Sophie had sent me a photo. Shane was standing at the hospital counter with his head lowered as he paid her bill, while his phone rested on her lap.

She'd added a message.

[Wendy, I'm sorry. Today was supposed to be such a happy day for you two.]

Shane finally arrived at twelve forty. There was sweat on his forehead, but he was still carrying a bouquet.

"Traffic was bad."

I didn't take the flowers. I simply handed him the crumpled number slip.

"We missed it."

He was quiet for a few seconds before putting the bouquet into my arms.

"We'll make another appointment next week."

I laughed.

"You make it sound so easy."

"Wendy, it's only a week."

"To you, it's only a week." I looked up at him. "But I've waited four years for this day."

His expression turned cold.

"Wendy Mercer, don't use getting married to force me to choose sides. She was sick. I wasn't going to leave her alone at the hospital."

I put the flowers back in his hands.

"Then why could you leave me here alone?"

He had no answer.

A few seconds later, he reached for me. "Okay, okay. I'll have lunch with you, and this afternoon we'll go to the bridal shop and look at dresses. Didn't you say last night that you liked the satin one?"

I stepped away from his hand just as my phone lit up again.

Sophie had made another post.

In the photo, Shane was bent over tying her shoelace, the hospital corridor lights falling across his shoulders.

The caption read:

[Some people aren't your boyfriend, but they make you feel safer than a boyfriend ever could.]

Our mutual friends were teasing her in the comments.

[So who's the real Mrs. Carter?]

Sophie didn't reply.

Shane saw the post too, but his first reaction wasn't to explain. Instead, he reached over and turned off my screen.

"She's sick. Don't go giving her a hard time."

I looked up at him. Something seemed to close around my chest so tightly that even breathing hurt.

"Shane, I haven't said a word."

"But I know what you're going to say."

He sounded tired.

"Wendy, don't make me feel like marrying you is going to be exhausting."

I stood there stunned.

For four years, I had given way one step at a time. How had all that giving way somehow turned me into nothing but a burden in his eyes?

Shane immediately seemed to realize how harsh his words had been. His lips moved.

"That's not what I meant."

I looked down at the number slip, crushed beyond recognition in my hand, and suddenly didn't want to explain anything at all.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

I placed the slip in his hand and walked away.

He didn't come after me, and I didn't look back.