The wind and the engine were the only sounds between them as they drove back to the cottage. If she dared to speak, she’d lose it and make a spectacle of herself. Instead, she looked straight ahead, watching the possibilities trail behind them with the scenery outside. She was leaving this life behind, and there was no turning back now. Libby thought about Pete’s words the rest of the way home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Libby’s new apartment was nice. The living area was about as spacious as she could get for a one-bedroom in the city, the galley kitchen was just enough for her to move around, and the bedroom was dark at night and bright in the morning. She could hear the sound of traffic on the street below. To others, it may be an annoyance, but to her it had always been exhilarating. She hoped that the exhilarating feeling would return soon because she didn’t feel it just yet.
Already her calendar was filling up for the week. She’d spent the last few days unpacking her things, decorating the new space, and trying unsuccessfully to clear her head. She kept replaying the events in her mind from that day at the bench in the woods, trying to find some way not to blame herself, but in the end, she kept coming back to the fact that Pete’s rejection was all her fault. She’d never considered what he wanted, and now he wanted a life that didn’t include her. Every time she thought about it, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to crawl into bed and stay there—cry into her pillow and never get back out.
She had Trish’s bridal brunch today and the wedding on Saturday. She’d had a haircut, a manicure, and half her wardrobe had been dry-cleaned. It was Libby’s last weekend before starting her new job at Riddick Wiesner, and she wanted to be at the top of her game, but she felt so low that she didn’t know how she was going to think about anything other than how she’d wrecked her life by her selfish behavior.
Since the shower, she hadn’t seen Trish. She’d wanted to get herself together before jumping back into her old life. As she stood in front of her reflection in the full-length mirror, it was difficult to see past her own thoughts. She looked the part; everything was the same as it had been before she’d gone back home. On the outside, she was just as she’d always been, but on the inside something had shifted, changed.
She thought about seeing Trish and being prepared to keep up with her, but the more she thought about it, the more she didn’t really care about one-upping her friend. Perhaps all those times, Trish had been genuinely concerned about her, and maybe she hadn’t been trying to be better than Libby at all. She found herself feeling happy for Trish, glad she was having the wedding she’d always wanted.
Pop’s issues had put the little things into perspective. In the end, she may not have all the things Trish had, or be married with a family, but she was healthy, and she still had time to do everything she wanted. The wedding dresses, the honeymoon locations—it all seemed unimportant now because what she wanted the most was to be with that one person who made her the happiest. She didn’t care anymore where they lived, what they’d do, where they were going. She just wanted to be with him. She tried to push away the sinking feeling of knowing that she wouldn’t get to be with Pete. She needed to make this day about Trish, even if it took all the energy she had to make herself smile.
The yellow taxi pulled up against the curb outside and she took the stairs down to the lobby and out to the street. It was a magnificently bright New York day so she slipped on the Gucci sunglasses she’d gotten herself as a reward for getting her new job, and slid into the backseat of the taxi. With everything now in place, it was time to try and get back to her regular life.
“West Houston Street, please,” she said. Off they sped.
The towering structures slipped past her window. They were a definite change from the pines back home. The diesel fumes, the traffic, the vast expanses of concrete, she saw them all in a different way now. She paid more attention to them. The taxi idled at a stop light and she looked over at a man walking his dog, and wondered why Pete had never gotten a dog. She envisioned a Labrador bounding past them into the water to retrieve a tennis ball. He should definitely have a dog. But then again, maybe it would be too much with Pop there.
Tears were clouding her eyes as she thought about how she’d never get to see whether Pete got a dog. He was moving on without her, and it made her feel like her feet were stuck in cement, every movement she made taking all the effort she could muster because she really just wanted to crumble to the ground. She shook her head to break free from the thought, and her vision cleared, the man and his dog now behind her as the car began to pick up speed toward her destination.