Page 2 of Your Love
He’s got me there.
My breath catches in my throat as I struggle to compose myself, but only sobs manage to escape. I can’t find my words. “Landry, please,” I plead, but get no further. I clutch at my heart, fingers digging into the fabric of my dress as if trying to keep it from bursting through my chest. I can’t do this to him for the same reason I showed up here in the first place—because I love him. I love him too much to go through with it.
Landry meets my gaze with a look of pain mixed with pity as my tears mix with smears of mascara and trails of snot.
Lauren steps toward me, and he quickly moves to stand between us, ever the peacekeeper, even in this moment of torture.
“Kerri, please listen to me,” he says. “I understand this is difficult for you, but you shouldn’t have come here. Whatever you thought would happen, it’s not going to.” The words come out harsh and biting, shattering the tense silence.
The intensity of his words rip through my chest like a sharp knife, excising any trace amounts of hope that remained. I stand rooted in place—my shoulders slumped in defeat. I open my mouth to protest, but before I can speak, he cuts me off. “You need to go home,” he says firmly.
I will myself to take a retreating step. My movements are slow and deliberate, and I know I’m trying to hold onto the last moments of something special slipping away. His eyes meet mine, and I see the pain and sorrow etched in their depths. Landry is the kindest, most loving man I’ve ever known. He doesn’t want to hurt me, but I’ve left him no choice.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean—I had to try—I shouldn’t have—“ My words are rushed and jumbled, and I continue to back away.
“Are you going to be okay?” Landry calls after me.
“I’m sorry, Landry. I’m sorry, Lauren. I’ll leave. I’ll go,” I say.
“Wait,” Landry’s voice echoes across the sandy beach, but my feet are already propelling me away. My cheap sandal snaps with a loud crack, sending me tumbling into the damp grains of sand. A jolt of pain throbs in my knee, but I don’t allow myself to dwell on it. It pales in comparison to the pain in my chest anyway, so I force myself to get up and keep moving. The crashing waves and cawing seagulls provide a soundtrack to my frantic escape, but all I can hear is the thudding of my heart.
Once I’ve arrived at a safe distance from the scene of the worst moment of my life, I plop down into the wet sand. The roaring of the vast ocean drowns out the sounds of my cries, making me feel smaller than I thought possible. The waves come in rhythmic succession, lapping against my skin.
In between each ripple of water, the blood pools from the fresh tear across my knee. I watch as the water rolls in, cleans it off, and sweeps it away. I wish it could do the same to the pain in my chest, but I know all I can do is wait. Mama says, “Time heals all wounds,” but there aren’t enough minutes in a lifetime to heal this one.
Why did I wait so long to embrace my feelings? Why did my heart betray me and only awaken for this man now? I’ve lost not only my best friend but the man who I thought would one day be my husband. And with this stunt, there’s no chance he’ll want to work at the farm anymore. I’ve put my grandparents’ future in jeopardy with my selfishness.
I lose track of time as I sit on the beach, my tears mingling with the salty ocean breeze. My body shivers from the cold sweat that’s dried on my skin. My muscles ache and protest any movement, a physical representation of the pain inside of me.
As I finally rise, my knee immediately starts to ache. In addition to everything else, it dawns on me that I may have seriously injured myself. As I gingerly put weight on my knee, a sharp pain radiates from the medial side of my kneecap, indicating a possible strain of a ligament. That’s my professional assessment, coming from an almost-veterinarian. It’ll be another year or so before it’s official. My non-professional assessment is that I’m a complete loser who fucked up her knee with uncoordinated beach acrobatics.
Sniffling and limping along the beach back to the resort hotel that I can’t afford, my steps falter as a thought occurs to me—Landry and Lauren are spending their wedding night at this very same hotel. It hits me like a physical blow, adding insult to literal injury.
My credit card was pushed to its limit as I hastily booked a flight and a luxurious night at this exclusive resort, the most expensive in the entire area. My only goal was to reach this place and speak with Landry. The hours on the flight were spent thinking over what I would say and daydreaming about him returning my feelings. I wasn’t thinking about what would happen in this situation. Now, that’s all I can think about as I hobble into the grand lobby and approach the front desk.
At some point in the debacle that is my life over the past several hours, I managed to misplace my room key, whether on the sandy shores or in the crashing waves of the ocean. I’m sure they’ll add that charge to my bill. I might as well throw in some cliché sad movies, indulgent room service, and a pitcher of margaritas to drown out the misery while I’m at it.
The front desk worker is an older man with kind eyes. As I approach him, sand still clinging to my legs and hair wild from the salty breeze, he regards me with a mix of amusement and concern. It’s clear that I look like some crazy person who just wandered off the beach. Seeing as how I am, it’s an accurate assessment.
“Can I be of assistance, Miss?” he asks in a charming accent.
“I seem to have misplaced my room key. My name is Kerri Thatcher, and I’m staying in room 342.”
He responds with more empathy than I deserve. He reaches for a new key and places it carefully in my hand, giving me a gentle smile. “Pardon me,” he says softly, “but whatever is going on can only get better from here.”
His words trigger another bout of crying. I don’t deserve any kind words. After all, I’m the one who hurt Landry and ruined his wedding day. And even though I have no love or trust for his new wife, my actions still ended up ruining her special day as well.
Although I don’t believe I’m worthy of them, I’m grateful for his words of consideration. I reach out and cover his hand with mine. “Thank you,” I say sincerely before taking my key and limping my way to my room.
Chapter 2
"Over My Head"
Kerri - Age 24, 1994
As soon as I enter the room, I toss my key onto the bed and make a beeline for the bathroom. As I pass by, I can’t help but glance at the spacious soaking tub. With the throbbing pain in my knee, it might be a better option than a shower. The thought of cleaning my wound makes me cringe, but maybe soaking in warm water will help alleviate some of the pain.
I reach for a bottle of water and three Ibuprofen before turning on the faucet in the tub, letting the water run as hot as I can bear it. I pop the pills into my mouth and swallow them with a large gulp of water before tossing my clothes into a messy pile on the tiled floor and stepping into the bathtub. My skin itches as it takes a few moments to adjust to the scalding water as I begin slowly sitting down. My hands and hip sting from minor cuts, but my knee throbs with intense pain as it meets the hot water. My heart races as it reacts to the wound, but eventually, I become accustomed to the sensation.
