Footsteps meant Philip was close, and Sunny growled. I sat up and surveyed the room. When Philip had picked out the electric-blue backsplash, I had fought him. “It’s really busy,” I had said, “and loud,” but who was I to argue when Philip had decorated multiple homes? I’d grown to love the differences. The loud colors against the smooth steel finishes; the wood beams that stretched across the ceiling.
“What on earth are you doing on the floor, Charley?” Philip chimed.
I patted Sunny’s head to assure him for the hundredth time that Philip was harmless. Then I gathered myself and stood to meet him. He was still handsome, in his self-assured, yet utterly boyish way. Women took note of his towering frame and fine clothing. Wherever we’d go, I’d get a sense that I could be easily replaced. I was hardly the kind of woman who stood out. I wasn’t the tallest, or the slimmest, or close to the prettiest. Philip’s admirers often reminded me of our differences. Their enthusiasm for his British pedigree bubbled over, and the flicker in his eyes had them believing they were the only ones in the room. Having paid careful attention to these virtues of his, I noticed his accent was less pronounced since we met, as was his waistline. Philip, with all his traveling, believed in a strict, healthy diet, often quoting a recent Mediterranean fad with precise guidelines for a man of his size. Today, freshly sprouted gray trickled through his dirty blond hair, and his pale face seemed drawn. His cologne enveloped me, a musky scent that had lined our history.
“I’m just hanging with Sunny,” I said, letting him wrap his arms around me.
His soft lips grazed my cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.” It came out as a murmur, a gentle kiss, and I felt my body come to life, while the images of the little boy and his dad slowly drifted away.
“Are you still upset?”
I was, but I blinked back the disappointment as I’d been doing for weeks. I fingered the ring, remembering when I thought it would make a difference. “I’m fine.”
“Morada tonight?” he asked.
I pulled back. “Let’s try something new.”
“You love it there,” he said.
I did. Once. Morada Bay’s beach housed the upscale Pierre’s restaurant and the Morada Bay Beach Café, where we spent countless nights. When we’d first moved here, we’d crowd her shores while the guitarist crooned Taylor and Buffett beneath a canopy of stars. There we’d drop ourselves against the knotted webs of the old hammocks, admiring the expansive palms, while our feet brushed the sand, and I’d laze in his arms sipping colorful drinks. We talked of a future, dreams fastened together with sunlight and laughter. Our table by the water was where we watched the sunsets against the Gulf, some of the most spectacular I’d ever seen. Just imagining the crisp surf lapping against the jutting rocks sent the smell of sea through my memory. I remembered how our love had sprouted and grown, and it left me lonelier than ever.
“Goose’ll be there,” he murmured in my ear.
“He’s back?”
“He is. He finished the restaurant.”
Morada Bay’s owner and executive chef left to open a high-end Dallas diner right before we dropped our anchor in the Keys, though he was part of the reason we’d come in the first place. Philip talked about him in a sincere tone that always struck me as out of place. They’d met in Manhattan years ago at one of Goose’s famous establishments. He was the closest thing Philip had to a friend. There were plenty of business associates. Clients. A team of lawyers on call for any legal tangling. But no one notable enough to warrant this kind of adoration. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees the woman who’s making an honest man out of me.”
“It sounds perfect,” I lied, yet pleased to see Philip so excited.
He kissed the top of my head. “Come join me in the washroom. We can help each other tidy up.” His throaty voice was subtle, sexy, and I hid my laugh.
“You can’t expect to seduce a lady with words like washroom and tidy.”
Sunny watched us from his cushion by the glass door while he simultaneously whimpered and chewed. “You fell rather mad for me in a washroom, I recall.” He was smiling into my eyes, and I felt myself thawing out. The morning was draining, and the idea of washing off the hospital germs enticed me, but there was more we needed to discuss.
“You can’t do this, Philip.”
He reached for me, but I pulled back. “You’re still mad?”
“I’m not mad . . . I’m frustrated.”
His expression changed. The absences were part of the deal, and I didn’t mind, not at first, not ever, until I sensed a shift in him, in me, in us. Philip was someone I really thought I could settle down with. Someone I could let in and love. Being away wasn’t the only problem. The last few times he was home, he spent the majority of his time on calls and preparing for meetings. This was the guy who couldn’t be in the same room without touching me. The shift left my mind to wander. Had Philip finally gotten bored with me? Was there someone else? Could the ring have been a mistake? The physical distance I could live with, I had lived with, but the emotional distance was something else. I couldn’t get him to connect.
I took a seat on one of our chrome-plated kitchen stools. “Did you even want to get married? Or did you think you had no choice?”
He turned away, avoiding my eyes.
“I take offense at that accusation, Charlotte. I recall your hesitance to get married. The exact words were . . .”
I held my palm up. “I know what I said . . . but you . . . It was different with you, Philip. At least I thought it could be different.”
“You told me you liked that I traveled. That it eased some of the pressure for you. It’s what gave you breathing space and freedom to . . .”
“Grow,” I whispered. It was enough for some time. And I grew. But we didn’t. Not Philip and me. Not as a couple.
“You women,” he exclaimed, leaving me as he headed for our bedroom and a warm shower. I followed him, the sounds of our feet shuffling against the polished floors. “You want, you don’t want. I can’t always follow you, Charlotte. You ask for one thing but want another.”
I didn’t know what I wanted, so I let him undress without making a move for my own clothes. His reflection in the bathroom mirror surprised me. The excess travel was taking its toll. He looked thinner than usual, and I told him.
“If I polish off dinner and dessert, can I get you to join me in the pool later?”
That was Philip. Everything was a joke. Everything too serious for him. In many ways, it was the balm for my inner sadness, but today it hurt, and I walked out of the bathroom, leaving him to shower without me.
CHAPTER 6
May 2016, Back Then
Kansas City, Missouri
I left Philip in the restaurant’s bathroom.
Daniel and I sat in silence, side by side, while my mother had the single greatest birthday of her life. Philip told her dirty joke after dirty joke, and when dessert came, he made sure it was elaborate with an abundance of candles. When Mom closed her eyes and wished, I saw joy spread across her face. It sustained me while the longing to be somewhere alone with Philip nagged at me, his deep stare telling me he felt the same.