Page 44 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

“That was really great,” Clay says as I head down Bennett’s gravel driveway.

I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles are white as I turn onto the now snow-covered main road. At some point while we were inside Bennett’s house, it must’ve started snowing.

“And we definitely need to let Melba make our wedding cake. Otherwise, Grandma Rose might start haunting us, you know?” He continues happily chatting, even releasing a little chuckle from his lungs. “It’s only right that our cake comes from Melba’s bakery. That’s the way Rose would want it.”

His head is in the fucking clouds, a smile permanently etched on his lips, but I’m still locked in a tailspin of monster proportions. The poignant, brain-altering silence that followed the news of the specific day we wed festers like a parasite in my mind.

Everyone at that dinner knew in an instant the selfish reason why I wasn’t there when it happened. Everyone at that dinner knew she was alone. Everyone at that dinner now knows about something that’ll haunt me for life.

Clay’s currently one-sided conversation about cakes and DJs and whether we should have our reception at The Country Club or set up something temporary in the square carries on without me, and I swallow the vomit-filled saliva back down.

I feel absolutely torn to shreds all over again, and I can’t even find all the pieces. I blink rapidly against tears, tightening my grip on the wheel again, and try to focus on the road. Big, fat flakes of snow come down and coat the windshield, and my Civic’s wipers work furiously to keep up.

“So…what do you think?” Clay asks, trying once again to include me in the conversation.

“I think a spring wedding would be nice. I mean, I’d sure as shit love to have our wedding sooner than that, but I guess I can find it in me to be patient to marry you again since you’re already my wife technically. ”

I can feel his eyes on me as silence stretches between us, and I can even sense the moment that the big smile on his face disappears.

“You okay, Jose?”

At any other time, it would be a simple, thoughtful question. But right now, it feels tone-deaf and patronizing. It feels like more of a suggestion than a question—a further push to get the hell over it already . “I can’t believe you told everyone that we’re married.”

My nerves are shot, and my tone is grating, and for once, I’m thankful for the excuse to keep my eyes on the road. I don’t like fighting with Clay—I love him. But his lack of consideration for me in this instance stings too much to ignore.

“Wait…you’re mad at me?”

“You didn’t ask me before blurting it out. I didn’t even have time to prepare.”

This is not the vibe I wanted to have on our way home from Thanksgiving dinner, not the vibe I want between us at all, but getting everything out in the open feels too important. If I don’t, I know it’ll grow into the kind of resentment that breaks people apart.

Melba telling me how happy Grandma Rose would be and Pete Peeler joking that he can’t wait to see little Josies and Clays running around Red Bridge while I’m still dealing with the internal crisis of the timing of it all was too much all at once.

I know I’m processing slowly, but I’m processing. I don’t need to be rushed.

“You’re mad that I didn’t give you time to prepare ?

” he questions, and shock is evident in his voice.

“Jose, I’ll be honest, I’m not understanding how you could possibly be mad that I told some of our closest friends that we’re married.

Because we are married. Call me fucking crazy, but in my mind, that’s something to celebrate. ”

He’s not wrong. But I don’t think he’s right either.

His viewpoint is a narrow tunnel, completely lacking in consideration for how much more complicated this is than married equals good .

I wish more than anything I had the emotional tether to explain that rationally and at a stable volume, but my raw nerves and pregnancy hormones assure I don’t.

“It’s not so black-and-white and simple as you make it sound, Clay!

Eileen Martin is going to have that in tomorrow’s paper.

And what’s the headline going to be? Clay and Josie got married the day Rose had a stroke?

How dense are you that you can’t see why something like this has me feeling a certain way? ”

By the time I finish, I’m nearly shouting.

“I get that you’re sad, Jose,” Clay challenges back, his voice escalating too.

“I get that you miss Rose. Fuck, I miss Rose. I loved that woman like she was my own grandmother. But at some point, we are going to have to start living our lives. At some point, we are going to have to move the fuck on.”

Move the fuck on? It’s so cavalier. So fucking selfish. He’s got to be kidding me.

“Move on and live our lives? You say that like I got a paper cut, Clay. I lost one of the most important people in my entire life, and I wasn’t there!

I wasn’t there when she needed me most! In her final conscious moments, she was all alone because I wasn’t there!

” I shout at the top of my lungs. “You want me to just act like none of it happened? Act like I’m happy and perfectly fine ? ”

“That’s not what I meant, Jo—”

“You know, maybe I can just paint a permanent smile on my face so that no one has to see how sad I am. That would probably be easier, huh? Easier if I just hide my grief because it’s such an inconvenience for everyone.”

“Jose, I—”

“Don’t worry, Clay,” I continue, my voice still far too loud for the small confines of the car. “I’ll find a way to just shove it all down. We can go pick out wedding cakes and flowers and—”

“Josie!” Clay screams just as my gaze catches sight of headlights from the other side of the road, crossing the yellow line. “Watch out!”

I hit the brakes, but it’s too late. I don’t react in time. The car is going too fast, and the roads are too slick to stop. My scream echoes in the tight corners, and the headlights collide with us, head on.