The Shuddering Part 6

"At least it happened when it did, right?"

Jane said nothing.

"s.h.i.t, that came out wrong. I'm just saying that-"

"Yeah," Jane cut in. "I get it. No kids, no big deal." She frowned at the edge in her voice. "Thanks, Tom," she said, trying to soften her tone.

She heard Sawyer pull in a breath behind her, imagined him standing there with the sink to his back, the heels of his hands resting against the edge of the counter, studying the tips of his combat boots. "Listen," he said after a long pause. "I feel like an a.s.shole. Losing touch..." He hesitated. "It's my fault, I know that. I should have fixed it."

"Why didn't you?"

"Come on, Janey."

She sighed, crumpling the napkin up in her hand, slowly turning so that she could see him. He stood just the way she had imagined, his head bowed, his legs crossed at the ankles.

"I was out in Boston; you started teaching; then you got married." He looked up at her. "Still are, right? What was I supposed to do?"

She felt numb.

"You could have at least come to the wedding," she said softly.

"So you could have had a severely uncomfortable guy sitting alone at a table during the reception?"

He was right. Inviting Sawyer to the wedding had been a strange thing to do. She'd never admit that after dropping his invitation in the mail, she'd hoped he'd show up, if only to answer the pastor's call: "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"Well, you could have at least RSVP'd," she whispered.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I kept wondering if you had just forgotten."

He held his silence.

"I left a spare seat open at the head table." It was a secret she had sworn she'd never confess. "I was worried that you'd come and you wouldn't have anywhere to sit."

"Jesus." The word came out upon a breath. "Ryan didn't tell me..."

"I asked him not to."

"It was your day," he said. "I didn't want to screw things up."

She dared to look up at him then, chewing her bottom lip before diverting her eyes again. "Your hair's gotten long," she told him, her gaze focused on the floor. "It looks good; like a proper musician."

It was the reason he had left for Boston: to become a sound engineer, to rub elbows with his favorite artists and make them sound more amazing than they really did. She couldn't imagine what was going through April's mind, Sawyer's closest friend looking like he'd stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog rather than a rock club. She wondered how weird it was for April to realize her edgy boyfriend hung out with a bunch of trendy yuppies who- Without warning, Sawyer pushed away from the counter and breached the distance between them. He reached out, took Jane's head in his hands, his palms pressing against her cheeks. Her heart stopped as she felt his breath drift across the curve of her bottom lip. She let her eyes flutter shut, not wanting to see what was coming. When he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a tiny voice inside her head cried out, screaming that he wasn't fooling anyone, that they both knew what they wanted. Maybe if they just gave in...

"Good night," he whispered. He turned away from her and grabbed a can of c.o.ke out of the fridge. She opened her mouth to speak as he lingered there, the cold refrigerator light casting a halo around his frame, but couldn't find the words. He glanced back at her as if about to say something more, but he silently left the kitchen instead.

The moment he was out of sight, Jane slid into Ryan's chair, the drumming of her heart threatening to choke her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Sawyer didn't want more. He had April, and April was beautiful. He had moved on, while she continued to cling to the past.

"s.h.i.t," she whispered, pressing her fingertips against her eyelids, fighting the sting of tears. She was pathetic. Weak. She had sworn up and down that she was ready for this, but she wasn't. She had insisted that everything would be fine, but nothing was.

Oona padded across the kitchen and nudged Jane's elbow with her nose. Instinctively, Jane scratched behind the dog's ears before getting up, flipping off the kitchen lights, and moving down the hall, the husky at her heels.

It was only after she was halfway up the stairs that she realized it hadn't been Oona she'd heard outside.

"I'm in love." Despite her wet hair, Lauren was already in bed when Jane came into the master bedroom, the covers tucked beneath her arms, a Vogue magazine she'd found in the bathroom opened to a Chanel ad. "I just thought it fair to tell you now rather than springing it on you later, when I'm knee-deep in wedding planning and packing my bags for Switzerland."

Jane shook her head as she closed the door behind her, and Lauren's smile faded when she saw Jane's shoulders slump.

"What?" she asked. "Why were you down there so long? What happened?" She sat up, tossing the magazine aside. "Did that chick go back downstairs, looking all frou-frou French even though she's totally not? Did you see her all quiet and demure at dinner, like she was too good to partic.i.p.ate in the conversation? What the h.e.l.l was that all about?"

Jane pushed her fingers through her hair.

"So?" Lauren pressed. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired."

Lauren frowned. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing's wrong? It's okay, Janey; the world won't crumble if you show some weakness."

Jane sighed and moved across the room to her bag, crouching beside it before fishing through her things.

"Do you want to go home?" It was the right thing to ask-the best-friend thing to ask. Lauren was sure Ryan would understand, confident that if he knew Jane was having a hard time he'd pack them up and drive back to Phoenix at first light. She saw the way they were with each other, amazed that a pair of siblings could be as in sync as they were. It made her jealous. She could never be like that with Kevin. She'd hardly spoken to her older brother, or any of her crazy family, in over a year. They were all two-faced, dramatic, needy. But Jane and Ryan both had this one perfect person they could tell everything to. They probably didn't even have to speak for one to know what the other was thinking.

"No," Jane said from the floor, tossing a pair of pajama pants onto the carpet beside her. Lauren said nothing as she watched her friend slip into thoughtfulness, Jane's eyes fixed upon the floor, her short hair framing her face. Feeling the sadness waft off her friend like waves of heat, Lauren crawled across the bed to get closer. She hadn't seen Jane like this before.

"Janey..."

"I could stay here forever," Jane confessed. "Isn't that sad?" When she looked up, Lauren offered her a faint smile.

"Sawyer isn't what I expected," Lauren said.

"He isn't what anyone ever expects."

"There's definitely something about him," Lauren agreed. "Mystery."

"Grace," Jane said softly. "He doesn't walk; he floats. His feet don't touch the ground."

"Well, he's obviously human," Lauren a.s.sured her. "Look at the girl he picked to be with. There's something wrong with him for sure."

"Maybe." Jane shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Jane. Stop being so fair all the time. She sucks. You can hate her."

"I don't want to hate her. I want him to be happy."

"And what about you?" Lauren asked. "Don't you count?"

Jane frowned at that and Lauren sighed. She pushed the blankets away from herself, crawled across the bed, and slid onto the floor next to her friend.

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"I can't," Jane said. "It wouldn't be right."

"Except that you invited him to your wedding because you wanted him to crash it," Lauren reminded her. "You probably shouldn't have ever married Alex at all."

Jane opened her mouth to protest, but Lauren shook her head, refusing to let her talk her way out of it.

"Who does that, Janey? Who invites a guy to her wedding with the sole hope of that guy sweeping her away from the altar? It's insane. It's always been insane, and maybe that's why it didn't work with Alex. I know you loved him, and he's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d for cheating on you-I hope that a.s.shole burns in h.e.l.l-but have you ever stopped to think that maybe all of this fell apart because it wasn't meant to be in the first place? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you should screw all this fairness and finally tell Sawyer how you feel?"

Jane shook her head, her bottom lip trembling.

"Why?" Lauren demanded. "Because it'll put him in an awkward position?"

Jane covered her face with her hands.

"And what if he's in the same boat?" Lauren asked. "What if he's just as tortured as you? What if all he wants is to be with you again?"

"Then why would he come here with his stupid girlfriend?" Jane spit out.

"Because he's a guy," Lauren said flatly. "And guys are morons."

They both went silent for a moment, and eventually Jane pulled in a steadying breath and looked up at Lauren. "You really like him?" she asked softly.

"Sure," Lauren said. "I mean, I don't really know him very well, but-"

"No," Jane cut in. "I mean Ryan."

Lauren diverted her eyes to the carpet as she tucked a strand of damp hair behind an ear, a bashful smile coiling across her mouth.

"He likes you too," Jane said softly. "I can tell."

"Really?"

She nodded. "You're not afraid of him. Most girls are."

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"He's aggressive, determined," Jane listed off. "He stole my share of ambition; that's what our dad used to say."

"How sweet of him."

"It's true." Jane shrugged. "You can't argue with facts."

"You also can't argue that your dad has a way with words," Lauren scoffed.

Crumpling her pajamas in her hand, Jane got to her feet and moved to the bathroom.

Lauren listened to the sound of an electric toothbrush. "You still haven't answered my question," she said after the water shut off, staring down at her hands, wondering how much aspiration was too much to bear. She knew about Ryan's inability to keep a relationship, and maybe that was his problem-his inextinguishable drive, his determination to be something bigger than himself. Maybe that resolve eclipsed everyone around him, dooming him to a life of solitude despite his smile, despite his undeniable appeal. "You were down there a lot longer than it takes to stick dishes in the washer, and I know that look."

Jane stepped out of the bathroom, tossing her clothes onto the floor next to her bag before crawling into bed. Lauren slid back onto the mattress as well, fluffing her pillow before sticking her legs beneath the sheets.

"If you know that look, then you shouldn't be asking," Jane told her.

"Did he stay down there with you?"

Pressing her lips together in a tight line, Jane offered Lauren a hesitant smile.

"Seriously?" Lauren asked. Jane slid beneath the comforter and grabbed the Vogue from the center of the bed. "What did he say?"

"Nothing."

Lauren s.n.a.t.c.hed the magazine from her grasp, and Jane chuckled at her insistence.

"Don't be an a.s.s," Lauren told her. "Spill it."

Jane lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug. "How about this; I won't ask you what Ryan said when you both end up behind a tree."

Lauren rolled her eyes, but Jane didn't give in. She pulled the sheets up to her chin and shut her eyes shut against the light. Lauren tossed the magazine onto the floor and followed suit after clicking off the lamp next to the bed.

They lay in the darkness together for a long while, the wood crackling in the fireplace, the flames casting weird shadows across the walls. Eventually, Jane's voice whispered through the shadows.

"We have the same problem."

And for a while Lauren couldn't put together what Jane meant-not until she remembered what she had said the second Jane had stepped into the room.

I'm in love.

Except that Lauren had mostly been joking, and Jane was heartbreakingly sincere.

"It's interesting," April said, pulling one of Sawyer's old T-shirts over her head. "I expected them to be...I don't know, more..." She hesitated, searching for the right words.

"Like us?" Sawyer asked, sliding the can of c.o.ke onto a side table.

April shrugged her shoulders. Stepping over to the window, she parted the slats of the blinds to look outside-nothing but night.

"I guess," she said after a moment, tossing a look at him over her shoulder. He was throwing cushions onto the floor, their bed a foldout couch that would have her hunchbacked and sore by morning. She had been irked when Ryan had led them to the farthest room down the hall, away from everyone else, parking them in a room that was more a makeshift library than it was meant for guests, but she'd held her tongue. She hadn't mentioned that it seemed like they were being quarantined from the rest of the group, doubting that if Sawyer had come alone he'd have been stationed so far from everyone else. Sawyer hadn't mentioned their room a.s.signment either, and April wondered if he simply hadn't noticed or was keeping quiet like she was.

"It just seems like something you would have told me," she said, stepping across the room to grab the can of soda while Sawyer unfolded the bed, the stiff metal springs creaking in the quiet of the room. She cracked the can open and turned away from him, her gaze scanning the spines of hardback books squeezed tight onto a shelf. They were all cla.s.sics-Austen and Bronte and Sir Walter Scott. Her fingers drifted across Stoker's Dracula, one of the few she'd read. All those books made her feel small, uneducated, but they also made her inwardly grimace at how ostentatious they were. Not a trace of King and Koontz, of books people actually read and enjoyed.

"Does it?" Sawyer asked, stepping away from the couch as if to a.s.sess his morning back pain. April frowned as she tugged down on the hem of her shirt, her bare legs growing cold.

"Don't get mad about it," she said. "I'm just making an observation."

"Did I say I was mad about it?" he asked, tossing a folded sheet onto the bed. April took a sip of soda before grabbing the end closest to her, sliding an elastic hem over one of the mattress corners.