Shame Me Not

She’d whispered a simple, “Never,” and continued making dinner for me. Because as much as I’d tried to hate Shayla for stepping into my father’s life after he left us, I couldn’t. She’d been nice, and my mom actually would’ve loved having her as a friend. So, despite my outburst, I’d been grateful for her every step of the way.

Everyone mingled about in their black garb and talked over the soft music playing in the background. They munched on the appetizers and somehow, some even managed to laugh. I lurked in the corners and back rooms, only coming out when someone needed me. I was peopled-out. I was so exhausted from standing tall, when all I wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry until my mom came back.

Through it all though, my eyes kept finding Kevin in the crowd, until he ended up before me with his parents.

“How you holding up, Ana?” Mr. Harding asked as Kevin’s mom wrapped me in her arms. It took all I had not to crumble into her motherly embrace. Swallowing hard, I pulled back.

“I’m managing.” My eyes shot to Kevin’s and held there. He looked worried, but didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

“Well if you need anything, you just let us know. We’re always right next door,” I pried my eyes from Kevin’s and gave the best impression of a smile at Mrs. Harding. Her eyes teared up and she grabbed my hand. “Your mom was always so proud of the beautiful young woman you are. She’d tell me all the time. I’m sure going to miss her.”

“Thank you,” I answered. I didn’t know what to say. A tear fell down her cheek and Kevin’s dad pulled her into his arms. I couldn’t watch her break down, otherwise, I would join her and I wasn’t sure I’d stop when I started. “I should go check on the food. Make sure there’s plenty out.” I muttered my excuse and bolted, refusing to let my eyes look at Kevin again. Seeing his concern would’ve been too much right then.

Kevin didn’t let me run far though, because eventually he caught up to me in my hiding spot, where I kept washing already-clean dishes. He stepped through the doorway just as I was sipping from a glass of wine I’d stashed under the sink.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said on the other side of the island, as though he feared coming too close and causing another breakdown.

“Don’t be.”

“How are you?”

“Pretty shitty,” I answered honestly, lifting my glass and draining it.

“Ana, where can I put this casserole?” one of the many guests asked behind me.

I cringed, so tired of that question. It appeared everyone in attendance brought a damn casserole, and I hated the thought of opening them later and thinking about why they were there.

“The fridge in the garage is fine.” I turned with a quick, polite smile before turning back to Kevin.

“Is . . . anyone here to help you?” he asked looking down at my ring finger.

“No. Just me. My dad and Shayla have been helping, but otherwise, just me.” He gave a slow nod to my response. “What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Come on, Kev. You know what you were really asking: if I had a boyfriend or husband. So, what about you?”

“No boyfriend or husband for me either,” he said, joking.

A laugh bubbled up my throat. It felt so foreign after the past month, I thought I was going to choke on it. He smiled, pleased by my reaction.

“No. It’s just me. No girlfriend or wife,” he finally admitted.

Nodding my head, I tried to process what that meant and why a band in my chest loosened at the thought.

He finally moved across the kitchen into my space. Each step he took felt like he was loosening the reins I had on my control. I tried to fortify my walls, prepare myself for the feel of his arms around me. If I’d snapped earlier just from him saying my name and holding my hands, I couldn’t imagine the havoc he would create if he wrapped me in the safe cocoon of his arms.

He pulled the glass from my hands and the tink of it being set on the granite counter sounded like the first crack in my barrier. Watching his hands move toward me and imagining the feel of them resting on my shoulders made the crack grow. It started low in my belly, working its way up my chest, choking its way past my throat.

When his skin finally made contact with mine, the sob broke free. He slid his hands down my arms and back up to wrap around my shoulders. There would be no running to the bathroom to gather myself. He held me to him and let me crumble in his arms, doing what he always did best, letting me break in the safety of his hold.