Sweethearts Old by Rachel A Andersen

Author:Rachel A Andersen [Andersen, Rachel A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rachel Andersen
Published: 2020-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

MARISSA WAITED ON THE bench outside the restaurant as he parked the car. As she stood to meet him, he had to admit that she looked even better today than she had the night of the reunion, dressed in brown slacks, a cream sweater, and a rust-colored scarf.

The only difference was that she wasn’t smiling.

“Something wrong?”

She waved behind her. “See for yourself.”

His heart sank as he caught sight of the tacky yellow sign of an underwater vehicle while an outdoor speaker piped Beatles’ music for everyone to hear. “The Yellow Sub? Where’s Nico’s?”

Marissa pulled the strap of her tan purse over her shoulder, leaving her thumb underneath to keep it anchored. “I asked inside, but no one seemed to even know this had been Nico’s before this.”

Something was off about her, something was wrong, and he could feel it. “Marissa, it’s just a restaurant. We could probably find another place we’d like in ten minutes or less.”

She brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, and he was surprised to see the tears gleaming in her eyes. “It’s silly to get all worked up over the restaurant, I know.”

He caught her hand and guided her back to the bench he’d found her at just moments earlier. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, dipping her gaze to her lap and wiping at her cheeks as if to hide the evidence of her tears. “It’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

“Now, I know that’s not true. The Marissa I know doesn’t cry about nothing.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected, a laugh, a smile, something. Instead, she looked up at him with vulnerability he’d never seen in her before, not even when they were kids and she’d claimed to trust him implicitly. “And who is the Marissa you know, Declan? The girl who played the violin and wanted to travel around the world? She died a long time ago. Buried under decades of grief and holding it all together.”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and he wished that he was one of those gentlemen from movies who always carried a handkerchief or a packet of tissues with him.

“I know it’s not fair to complain about this to you of all people. You were the one who tried to keep her alive, tried to protect her from how everything was changing.”

She buried her face in her hands, and he pulled her to him in a strong embrace. “Is that what this is about? Because I don’t have any hard feelings.”

She cried in his arms a few moments longer before she tugged away. “I sold my parents’ house this summer, and I thought I was okay with it. I needed to move out and be my own person.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

“I know, and I don’t regret it, but I drove past it on the way here, and—and it was like losing them all over again.”

He squeezed her elbow, that memory of yelling at Helen over where the plates belonged in his kitchen replaying in his mind.

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