Page 31 of The Wedding Fake

She sounded sad, and I wished more than anything I had the ability to ease that sadness, but I knew better. The mattress bounced as she climbed back into bed, and her whispered voice added, “Shoot. If I were you I would’ve lasted roughly five minutes with my mother before I made you drive me the four hours home.” Claire giggled at the thought, and the unexpected sound made me smile into the dark.

“If I leave, you won’t have a date for the wedding,” I reminded her.

Claire rolled onto her side, facing me in the dark. I rolled toward her, keeping a respectful distance from her body, even while my eyes roved over the angles of her pretty face. “You don’t know me, Hudson,” she said quietly.

It was funny, I felt like I did know her, like I was one of very few who’d gotten tiny glimpses below the artifice she kept firmly in place to fool everyone. But since I didn’t feel comfortable disagreeing with her, I remained quiet.

“I feel like you’ve only seen this messy version of me—having panic attacks in elevators and lying about my boyfriends and dragging you across the whole state just to avoid one of my mom’s set-ups—but I’m actually a good person.”

“I’ve never thought for a second you weren’t a good person, Claire.”

Difficult. Complicated. Secretive. But always good.

She grunted softly, as if maybe she didn’t believe it. “Good night, Hudson,” she said.

15

HUDSON

Cranberry Falls

Population 18,348

The sign had felt smothering for years, but today I was able to take a little breath as I crossed the city limits. The weight of my memories still bordered on crushing, but today it felt manageable. Difficult, but manageable.

Still, as I walked in the door, I leaned into my mother’s comfortable embrace, appreciating the familiarity and warmth. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Sunshine.” Mom craned her neck to look past me, lowering her voice to a whisper, but failing to hide her excitement. “Where is she?”

It was insane to think I’d looked forward to introducing Claire to my parents, but I had, and I hoped the disappointment that had settled low in my gut wasn’t obvious. “It’s not like that, Mom. I didn’t bring her.”

My mother made no attempt to hide her dissatisfaction with these words as she began to walk us back to the kitchen. “Coffee?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take one.”

She began making a fresh pot, her back to me while she worked, but she didn’t speak. Finally, as the coffee pot gurgled to life, she turned to face me, leaning back against the counter. “Tell me about her.”

“Mom,” I protested, the word coming out an exasperated sigh, but she raised her eyebrows knowingly.

“You sounded excited and now you don’t, so tell me about her.”

I hadn’t told my mother about the fake date, and I wasn’t sure I should now. It would only disappoint her. “There’s nothing to tell, Mom.”

She shot me a skeptical look, but didn’t press. “You should see Amy while you’re here,” Mom said.

It was an epic subject change. Or maybe it wasn’t. Mom had gone from thinking about my girlfriend to thinking about Lawrence’s. Of course, Amy hadn’t just been Lawrence’s girlfriend, she’d been Lawrence’s fiancée.

I was shaking my head before the whole sentence was out of her mouth. “She doesn’t want to see me, Mom.”

“She’s engaged, Hud.” The words took the air out of me as effectively as a punch to the stomach. Amy was engaged. It was just one more way I couldn’t protect my brother.

“He makes her happy, Hudson, but she still struggles, and your blessing would help.” Mom turned to fill two mugs, and, setting one down in front of me, she said, “Lawrence would want her to be happy.”

I never played the What Would Lawrence Want game, because what he would’ve wanted was simple. He would’ve wanted to live. And I’d already failed at giving him that. I let out a slow exhale, trying to focus my thoughts on the coffee mug my mother had set before me, but I couldn’t stop from reliving the worst night of my life like I had a thousand times before.

Chief gives the call to pull out of the fire, and I turn toward the only clear path, but Lawrence isn’t behind me anymore. I squint toward the rear of the building, where we suspect at least one child remains, and spot Lawrence’s silhouette. It’s hard to see through the smoke, but he’s less than ten feet from me and I turn to him, needing to catch him quickly enough to pull us both out. And then there is black.

I lift the coffee to my lips, the liquid burning my throat as I swallow, and I try to focus on the feeling, but it can’t block the pain I live with day in and day out.