Page 35 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

“I never signed the final paperwork,” Clay says, and my knees threaten to give out at his words. “You and I are still married, and you know what? I don’t regret it.”

A hazy film clouds my vision, and my body sways just enough to threaten my entire equilibrium.

“You…you didn’t sign the paperwork?” I ask, my hands trembling with so much anger that I can hardly control them. I don’t have to see myself to know my wide eyes take up practically my entire face.

“No, woman,” Clay says, and he keeps his eyes locked with mine. “Because despite your constant yellin’, I still love you. So, I’d do it again!”

Blind panic takes over, and I lunge for Clay before I can even think about what I’m doing. My hands go straight for his throat, but my fingers are only able to wrap around it for mere seconds before I’m being yanked back by my sister.

“Josie!” Norah cries out, but I’m too far gone to have any decorum. This man just told me something he’s kept from me for years.

We’re not divorced.

We. Are. Not. Divorced!

My hands are fists, moving toward him in succinct waves, each pumping movement trying to hit Clay anywhere I can. But more people run to the altar, and before I know it, Norah and Breezy and Sheriff Pete are holding me back, and Bennett has Clay within his grasp.

I swear I can hear laughs and shouts from the crowd, but my heart is pounding so hard inside my chest that I can hardly hear anything else over it.

“It’s okay, Josie,” Norah whispers into my ear, comforting me with the same soothing tone I’ve been using on her for weeks.

Her words—her permission to make this moment about me—are my undoing.

Tears are already forming a sheen over my eyes, and sobs threaten to rob my lungs of air.

With all the strength I have left, I yank my body away from my sister and Breezy and Sheriff Pete and run away from Clay and the all-too-real sham ceremony as fast as I can.

As soon as I’m away from the crowd, the tears let go. They cover my cheeks and my nose and my lips and my chin, and deep, uncontrollable sobs accompany them with a horrifying sound.

By the time I reach CAFFEINE, my hands are shaking so badly and my vision is so blurred with emotion that I can hardly unlock the door.

“Josie! Wait up!” a voice calls after me just as I’m finally getting it open.

I glance over my shoulder to see Bennett’s sister Breezy jogging toward me, and the raw vulnerability of everything I’m leaking from my pores right now seizes my chest. “I’m fine!” I call out quickly, averting my tearstained face from hers as she closes the distance between us.

I try to get into my shop before she reaches me, but just before I can shut the door, she shoves her high-heel-covered foot over the threshold and stops it.

“Breezy, I’m fine.”

She raises an eyebrow, her knowing eyes just as telling as the mascara stains I know mar my cheeks.

“I know I don’t look fine, but I’ll be fine,” I insist, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a solitary ball and purge myself of years of pent-up pain.

“Yeah, I know. I’m fine too. We’re all fine.

But how about you let me inside for a drink?

” she requests, holding up two bottles of white wine and wiggling them in the air.

“Just one drink together. We don’t have to talk.

We don’t have to do anything but put a dent in these.

And after one glass, if you’re ready for me to leave, you can tell me to fuck right off, okay? ”

The pressure of everything I’ve been carrying on my shoulders for the last five years and the changes that have come since Norah got to town suddenly feel like they weigh a million pounds. I’m not strong enough to stay standing and fend Breezy off. I’m just not.

“Okay,” I say on a sigh, opening the door enough to make room for her, scooting in, and then closing it and locking it behind us.

Breezy heads behind the empty counter and snags two to-go cups from beside the register. She unscrews the cap on one of the bottles of cheap wine and gives two hefty pours into each empty cup. “Here,” she says, handing one to me.

I take a sip and then another and then another five, and before I know it, I don’t feel like standing anymore. Literally or figuratively. I plop down in a chair at one of the tables in the eat-in area, and Breezy sits down across from me.

She drinks her wine in silence, and I do the same. Unexpectedly, it starts to feel good that she’s here. As an acquaintance I’ve spent relatively little time with through the years, she feels removed enough from the problem to stay neutral but familiar enough to put me at ease.

“By the way, I did manage to snag your purse.” They’re the first words out of her mouth as she slides it across the table toward me.

“Thank you.”

Breezy nods and goes back to drinking her wine.

I drink my wine too, tears that I can’t hold back still occasionally streaming down my cheeks as I do.

Everything Clay and I have been through. Everything that I’ve been through. Everything that I’ve lost. Everything that we should’ve been.

It’s too much.

To find out that we’re not even divorced is the final blow to my composure.

My nerves are shot to shit, every cell inside my body feels like it’s hanging on by a thread, and the only thing that’s keeping me together is this stupid glass of wine. I’ve never been a drinker, but damn, alcohol certainly helps to numb the pain.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I do know that Breezy hands me a second glass of wine when my phone pings from inside my purse, and I pull it out to find a text from Norah.

Norah: Are you okay? I know I’m the last person on earth you want to talk to right now…

well, besides the idiot whom I won’t name.

But I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Josie.

I’m so, so sorry for what happened out there.

I swear to you, I had NO IDEA that Clay was the chosen groom until this afternoon or that he was going to be a total asshat. Please don’t hate me. I love you.

A few more tears slip down my cheeks, and I type out a quick response.

Me: I don’t hate you.

I’ve never hated my sister, even when I thought I did after Grandma Rose’s funeral. Norah is pure of heart, with intentions to match. I know her big plan wasn’t to have me find out my ex-husband is still my husband on an altar in a white dress in front of the entire town. Still, it fucking sucked.

Norah: You promise? Because I feel like a real asshole for putting you in that situation.

Me: Promise.

Norah: Breezy still with you?

I glance up to find Breezy typing out an email on her phone.

Breezy has always been a bit of a boss bitch from way back.

She runs Bennett’s and her family’s art galleries—which have several notable locations across the world.

The woman’s life is a busy, city-girl whirlwind, and the fact that she’s sitting here with me, being a silent source of support while I’m drinking my tears away, shows that beneath that tough-as-nails surface is someone with a heart of gold.

Me: Yeah. She brought some wine to distract me from killing Clay.

Norah: Just so you know, you made Summer’s day. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that little girl so excited. She said, and I quote, “It was the best thing I’ve ever seen!”

Making Summer happy is well worth my own torment for the very worst of reasons. Without meaning to, I cry a little harder.

Me: I’m glad at least something good came out of it. Give her a kiss for me.

Norah: I will.

I don’t know how much time Summer has left, but I know it’s not long. And that’s so much bigger than everything with Clay.

Don’t get me wrong, spending five years thinking a chapter was closed, only to find out it’s been open the whole damn time, isn’t insignificant. In fact, if I didn’t love Clay Harris so much, I’d definitely hate him.

I chug the rest of my second cup of wine, and when Breezy hands me a third glass, I take it gratefully.

When tragic thoughts of the past threaten to spill into my subconscious, I force them out of my head with sips of wine that turn into gulps that turn into chugs.

I don’t know if it’s possible to drink yourself out of love with someone, but tonight, I’m sure as hell going to try.