Page 111 of We Drank the Dawn

Jesse said, “He is. But he’s creative and isn’t too keen on procedure.”

“Izzy is our procedures girl.”

“She got ticked at Cade the other day for loading the dishwasher wrong.” That made both of them laugh. For a few minutes, I listened to the two of them talk about their children—their differences and strengths. Jesse and Hollie bantered back and forth with an ease of conversation that made me ache for Sarah’s companionship.

I missed the way we used to flop onto the mattress at night, full of stories from the day. Sudden visions of her tucked under my arm, her laughter permeating the bedroom, filled me with such longing that I almost felt sick.

Man, I’d give anything to go back.

Every night since Sunday, I had called her and left her a voicemail. It took some Googling, but I realized one ring before going to voicemail meant she probably blocked my number. So she wouldn’t get my messages. That bummed me out, but even having a one-sided conversation with her had been good for me. It gave me the chance to practice the things I needed to say, and warmed me up to letting her in again. I would tell her about my day, stuff I missed about her, and what I’d been thinking about.

I’d call her again tonight.

When the kids came back with my cane, we had ice cream sandwiches on the porch and visited. Tag, Bea, and Wren joined us for a few minutes. And the volume on the porch escalated with the chatter of sugared-up kids and adult laughter. Sitting there, I realized Dad was right. Meadowbrook was a type of saving grace for me. The worst thing I could’ve been was alone. In fact, I was on a path of self-destruction little more than a week ago, but they pulled me onto my feet and wouldn’t let me wallow.

I owed them a lot for that. Maybe everything.

Pulled by a constant current, my thoughts flitted to Sarah again.

She was alone.

She didn’t have a huge, welcoming family like I did. She’d been checking off some list items, and a few times Cooper confirmed that Jackie was with her in the pictures. That made me glad. And made me thankful for Jackie.

Before everyone turned in for the night, I stole away from the porch to start my nightly routine. I found the barrel in the barn, and searched my brain for fires.

I’d called Ben yesterday, and my mom the day before that. I even Facetimed my sister Estelle because she demanded to see my face. It was uncomfortable at first, apologizing for being so wrapped up in myself for two years. But everyone understood and forgave me.

Mom apologized for making the situation with Sarah worse. And I apologized for dragging her into my conflict by asking her to shelter me. Our conversation was pretty heavy, hard; we both cried. But it was good and healing, too. And Mom told me she’d tried a few times to reach out to Sarah and would keep trying until she got in touch.

Tonight, I’d call Jackie.

Then Sarah.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Sarah

My eyes burned as I scrolled my Live List. Tonight, I was alone and frantic for a way to keep myself busy. I’d managed to stuff the first two days of the week with massages, swimming at the gym, and some projects in the garage, but now my house basically looked like an ad out of Better Homes and Gardens. There was literally nothing left to do around here but bask in its perfection.

And basking wasn’t really my goal. In fact, I was tempted to mess it all up so I could fix it again. I just needed something to do…

I had the whole evening ahead of me and couldn’t stand the idea of spending it by myself. But I wasn’t up for calling Jackie again. Things had been a little awkward between us since our conversation about Andre and I didn’t want to hang out with him again.

So I scrolled my list for inspiration. Surely there was something on here that wouldn’t make me think of Peter. But item after item, my brain flitted to him against my will because all of these things had been chosen with us in mind. I had never intended to do any of them by myself.

Growling with frustration, I slammed my laptop closed and flopped backward on my bed to stare at the ceiling. No matter how hard I tried not to think about him, he was the only thing I thought about. And I was sick of it. Peter probably wasn’t sitting at the ranch obsessing over me, so why should I obsess over him?

He had made his wants very clear and laid out what our life would look like together if I stayed with him. He did not want to be a husband. He did not want to try. He did not want adventures. He would not attempt to be the man I married. And, worst of all, he did not want me.

He even sealed it with a kiss…with another woman.

So why the hell did my stupid brain miss him?

Then it dawned on me.

Maybe I needed a new list.

The one Peter and I made together felt so us. If I made a new one with things I could just do, then maybe I would be inspired to do stuff without him. Reopening my computer, I pulled up a brand new Google Sheet and took ten minutes formatting, merging, and coloring the cells. I typed in the headings: description, address (if applicable), date of addition, date of completion, picture proof.