Jeremiah hadn’t meant to upset Shannon. But he wasn’t happy with how things were going between them. Texting a few times a day felt like something he did with a woman he’d just met, not one he’d been dating for a few months, had shared so many intimate stories with. Not someone he’d kissed so passionately and had learned so much about.
He hadn’t meant to act like her therapist, and he didn’t feel like he had. Doesn’t matter what you think, he told himself. It mattered how Shannon had interpreted it, but Jeremiah couldn’t control that.
They sat on the beach for several more minutes in silence, and then he got up and said, “I think I’ll go.”
“Already?” Shannon sounded one breath away from crying, and Jeremiah hated that. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain, but he didn’t think either one of them were up for saying what needed to be said tonight.
“It’s been a long week,” he said. “And I don’t think either of us want to have this conversation tonight. I’ll be here when you get done with your meeting tomorrow.” He left the blankets, the towels, and Shannon on the beach, every step shredding his heart a little bit more.
The following day, he wasn’t sure if he should return to the beach house or not. Shannon had not called or texted him since the previous evening, but he knew her meeting was at ten. He knew she had no idea how long it would go. He knew he’d said he’d be there, so he packed his beach stuff and drove back to the beach house, wishing he had Hercules with him.
But he didn’t, so he took his backpack around the side of the house and down the hill to the beach. The sun shone brightly in the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Jeremiah drew in a deep breath, his mind blissfully blank. But he wasn’t exactly the kind of man to lie in the sun and try to improve his tan. Instead, he waded out into the surf and let the waves toss him to and fro for a while.
He went into the house and found some suitable snorkeling gear, slathered more sunscreen on his shoulders and ears and went back into the ocean. He loved snorkeling, and he saw fish and ferns and all kinds of things.
Shannon’s friend had been right—this was a great place to snorkel. He loved how he felt completely removed from the world and yet only an inch or two of water covered him. He stayed out in the water, kicking around, for what felt like a long time.
When he returned to the beach, Shannon still wasn’t there. Jeremiah was starting to feel like she wouldn’t be coming back to the beach house, but when he went inside and upstairs, he found her bags still in the master bedroom.
He backed into the hall and went into the kitchen, where he opened the fridge to pull out something to drink.
“Maybe you should get a beach house,” he said to himself. He could probably afford one—a small one. And then he could surf and swim and snorkel every weekend. Hercules loved the beach, and Shannon—
Jeremiah cut the thought off there, because as much as he wanted her in his life long-term, there was something between them he couldn’t articulate. She’d always held a special place in his heart, but he had a feeling he didn’t hold the same spot in hers.
And that made him ache. He spied a stack of sandwiches on the second shelf in the fridge, and a handwritten note that said, “Eat as many as you like. See you soon!” in Shannon’s handwriting.
Jeremiah didn’t know what to make of the note. It felt fun and flirty, like much of their relationship was. But he knew that wasn’t where they really were. Still, he picked up a sandwich and took it out of the bag, his stomach not really caring where he and Shannon were in their relationship.
He stood at the glass doors and ate, washing everything down with a bottle of raspberry lemonade. A glance at the clock said it was almost one, and Jeremiah felt like a fool. Shannon wasn’t coming back to the beach house—at least not while he was there.
Part of him argued that she’d left her stuff. Made those sandwiches. Written that note. So he waited another ten minutes, then thirty, then an hour.
When the clock moved to three p.m., Jeremiah collected his backpack from the beach and practically threw it in the backseat of his convertible. He didn’t see how anyone could have a five-hour meeting on a Saturday. For a wedding.
What in the world could there be to talk about?
And Shannon hadn’t found thirty seconds to text him to let him know when he might expect her?
His anger simmered into fury as he drove home. But he hated his house, only a few blocks from Shannon’s, when he was there alone. He showered, and called for pizza, and ate it in front of the TV.
Shannon still didn’t call. Didn’t text.
So he sent her a message. You’re obviously not coming to the beach house. This feels like the end for us. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.
He kept his phone in his hand, sure she’d call or text any minute now. It was almost dark by the time his phone made any noise, and he looked at the name on the screen, almost ready to just let Shannon’s call go to voicemail.
In the end, he couldn’t do that to her, so he said, “Hello?”
“My meeting ran long, and then something came up.”
“It’s fine,” he said, because it was. “Things happen.” But Jeremiah believed things happened for a reason, and maybe this was a big sign that he’d been spending his time with the wrong woman.
“You think this is the end for us?” she asked.
“Feels like it,” he said.
“Where are you?”
“My house.”
She sighed, and the following silence stabbed Jeremiah right through the heart.
“This didn’t turn out right, did it?”
“Why do you think that?” As soon as Jeremiah asked the question, he wished he could suck it right back into his vocal chords. “I mean—”
“You know what?” she asked, her voice full of bite. “I think you’re right. I think this is the end for us.”
“Why do you think that?” he asked again, because she’d never asked him. Didn’t she want to know why he thought they shouldn’t be together? Maybe she’d known for longer than him.
“Because, Jeremiah,” she said. “I’ve told you lots of times that I don’t want you to be my therapist.”
“I’m not trying to be your therapist,” he argued back. “I’m trying to understand. I’m trying to have a conversation.” His frustration colored every word, and he didn’t want to talk when he was upset.
“Because you’re not here and I am.”
“I was there for five hours today,” he said. “Alone. I felt like an idiot, and I couldn’t stay any longer.” Jeremiah knew he needed to get off the phone. “Look, I think we might just need to take a break. I need to go.”
“A break?” It sounded like her voice had broken, and Jeremiah couldn’t stand that.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to go.” His desperation to get off the phone, get out of the house, get away from this conversation, drove him, and he said, “Good-bye,” and hung up. He almost flung the phone against the wall but stopped himself at the last moment.
He shoved the device in his back pocket and headed for the garage. He couldn’t think inside these walls, and he knew of only one place he could go that would allow him the mental room he needed: the gym.
Hours later, he had to be prodded out of the gym as the manager locked the doors behind him. “Go home, Jeremiah. You’ve been here forever.” Mindy gave him a sympathetic smile, but Jeremiah didn’t want it.
His legs hurt. His head pounded. His heart wailed around inside his chest. He’d never meant to hurt Shannon, but he didn’t want to be second fiddle to her job. And he didn’t want every question he asked to turn into a national event. He was allowed to ask questions, and she shouldn’t feel attacked when he did.
But she does feel that way, he thought. And she should get to feel how she wants.
He knew that was true. But was he really never going to ask her how she felt about something? It was a normal thing for couples to discuss how they felt, and why they felt that way, and what they should do. Major decisions would have to be made if they wanted to truly be together, and they couldn’t talk about them?
Jeremiah shook his head and stopped by an all-night drive-through, which pretty much ruined the four hours he’d spent on the treadmill. His headlights cut through the dark night as he pulled onto his street and into his driveway. He sat in the car, in the garage, unwilling to go inside.
Tomorrow was Sunday. He’d go to his parents’ house and then go pick up his dog—and Suzie would know immediately that something was wrong with Jeremiah. So maybe he’d call his sister and ask her to take Hercules to their parent’s place. Then he could just get the dog there when he went for dinner.
He’d never realized how lonely his life was. How huge and empty his house was. And he absolutely could not be there that night. He backed out of the driveway again, closed the garage door, and decided to see if Aloha Hideaway had any rooms available.
The next morning, he woke to the scent of plumeria and bacon, and it wasn’t all that unpleasant. He’d gotten a room at Aloha Hideaway and judging by how much light poured through his window, he’d slept in for quite a while.
Which was good, as he hadn’t exactly been able to fall right to sleep after checking in last night. Shannon was so close to the surface of his thoughts, and she’d permeated his dreams too. He sat up and stretched, his stomach angry with him for the late-night bingeing and now the lack of nutrients at all.
He didn’t have a bag or anything to get ready with, so he ran hot water over the washcloth and wiped his face. He finger-combed his hair and decided he could smile with his mouth closed so his morning breath wouldn’t kill anyone.
In the dining room, two other people sat next to one another, talking quietly. A white-haired woman entered the room and said, “Oh, good morning. Are you hungry? We’ve got eggs, bacon or sausage, and muffins this morning.”
“Yes, please,” Jeremiah said.
“Juices right here on the table,” she said. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled,” he said, and she grinned and checked on the couple before heading back into the kitchen. Several minutes later, she returned with a plate just for him, and Jeremiah wondered why he didn’t take more opportunities for a staycation.
Probably because he’d believed himself to be content with his life just how it was. A good dog. A nice house. Parents to take care of.
But he knew now that he’d spent a few months with Shannon that his life was devoid of meaning. Purposeless. He was drifting out at sea, and no one even knew it. He hadn’t even known it.
But he knew now that Shannon had been his life preserver. A ray of light in the darkness. Oxygen when he couldn’t breathe.
And he’d lost her, and it was too late to do anything about it.