“Okay. So what’s the big deal with Sarah then?”
“I don’t like her.” She shrugs.
“Mmhm. Well, I’m sorry. You’ve known Eli since you were in diapers. I really didn’t think a thing of it.”
She twirls the ends of her hair between her fingers, blowing out a breath. “That’s alright. I’m just pissed off because my old man’s thrilled to have somethin’ for me to do. He keeps tellin’ me ‘idle hands are the Devil’s playground.’”
“So he’s makin’ you help?”
She scoffs. “He’s puttin’ me in charge of the whole damn ceremony.”
My jaw drops. “Do you even wanna do somethin’ like that? Your daddy should realize you’re twenty-six and capable of makin’ your own decisions.”
“Yeah, well… that’s a fight for another day.”
She stares at her hands. I watch her, wondering what it is that’s making her so melancholy.
She looks at me, pasting a smile on her face. “You never told me where asshole of the century is takin’ you.”
I want to keep pressing her on Eli. She’s crazy if she thinks I’m stupid enough to buy her story, but I let her steer the conversation in a different direction. Since she’s in charge of his wedding ceremony, there will be plenty of opportunities for me to watch them together. Plus, I’m sure they’ll both be at Sam’s retirement party next weekend. Everyone in town is going. Even Daddy.
I’m not sure what to expect from this mini-trip with Chase. We’re only here for one night, and I’ve already seen almost everything there is to see of Nashville, so I don’t have any grandiose ideas. I’m anxious to experience a bit of what Chase’s life was like without me. I want to see this side of him, even if that means sitting in a room full of people whose scars remind me I’m still bleeding.
We debate whether to order room service. I figure it would be a shame to not experience the Nashville nightlife, so we end up going to a casual spot downtown. A band is playing on the patio, so I’m thankful we’re being led to a table inside where we can still talk. I slide into the booth, looking at our surroundings. It’s busy, but then again, it’s Saturday night so I shouldn’t be surprised. The walls are bright pops of color. Neon greens and purples clash against the dark concrete floors. This place is clearly not known for its aesthetics.
“Is this your favorite restaurant here in Nashville?” I tease.
He smiles. “I don’t really have a favorite. But this is where I would come sometimes to grab a beer. Their food’s decent. Plus, I can’t take you to a fancy place. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation and make you think I was trying to woo you.”
He winks and I giggle. “No, no chance of that.” I glance down at the menu, perusing the options.
“See anything you like?” he asks.
I grin at him from across the table. “This is perfect. They have fried green tomatoes, which is all I need to be happy.”
The waiter comes around bringing us drinks and taking our orders. We’re left to relative silence, only the bass drum from the outside band thrumming in our ears. I see his mind working and I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he regret bringing me here? Is he thinking about his ex? Did he bring her here?
Stop it.
“So, tell me about this thing you’re takin’ me to tomorrow.”
He sips his beer, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s a group meeting. We get together in the basement of a church and share stories. My therapist actually encouraged me to go a few years ago, and it’s helped me with… everything, really.”
I still can’t wrap my head around Chase seeing a therapist. I’ve tried to imagine it a million times, but I always come up short. “How often do you go?”
“Every weekend. I actually lead it, now.” Something that looks an awful lot like pride fills his eyes. Shock weaves its way through my system as I listen to him. “I don’t know how the fuck they decided I’d be the best for that. But here I am.”
The waiter interrupts, dropping off our fried green tomatoes. They smell delicious, but I don’t want to ruin the moment by indulging.
Instead, I urge him to continue. “How does it help?”
“Easy question.” He smirks, his fingers tightening around his beer. “I never processed all the emotion that came with being the son of an addict. Never let myself really feel it.” His head is angled down, but his eyes glance up at me. “The shame that surrounds it. The feelings of complete fucking failure. The anger I have toward my mom… toward Lily.”
My heart pangs with an ache so sharp it shoots to my toes. Even though he isn’t talking about me, I’m rubbed raw from his words. Each syllable pulls at the emotions I keep hidden away.
“I’ve lived with that shit all my life, Goldi. I let it infect every fucking part of me. And it wasn’t until I went to this group and heard other people’s stories—saw the pain, and the anger, and the misplaced embarrassment on other people’s faces…” He shakes his head, taking another sip of his beer. “That shit makes you put things in perspective. For the first time, I realized I wasn’t alone.”
I don’t really know what to say. Nausea is rolling around in my belly over the thought of going to this meeting with him—of being witness to the feelings I try to ignore. But I push down the anxiety. This is important to him. I’m honored he wants to share this vulnerable part of his life.
“Do you—have you ever found Lily?” She was my best friend once upon a time, and I carry a lot of guilt for how I handled things with her. I ignored my worries well before I spoke them. Too naive to know what was really going on, and then too stupid to speak up
