I won't leave. Karen comes in, and I acknowledge her, still watching Stevie through the window.
"What's going on?" Karen immediately picks up on my mood, and I know better than to try to stay silent.
"She asked me to leave."
"She said things were going well!" Karen looks totally distraught, and suddenly sounds pretty panicked.
"They were."
"What happened?"
"We fought this morning. I asked her about leaving..."
"Oh, Lindsey. No. Not yet."
"Well, I figured that out," I say, clearly irritated. "But now I don't know what to do."
"Don't leave."
"She was pretty clear, Karen. Pushing her never works."
"She hasn't smiled or laughed or opened up to anyone at all. You're the first person she's even spoken to that wasn't me or Brie. Please, Lindsey. Don't go. She'll come around."
"I really don't want to lose her."
"Then stay and wait her out."
I sigh, watching Stevie get out of the water. She hadn't even bothered to put a suit on, the white fabric clinging to her as she starts to wander down the beach. "Where's she going?"
"She's got a spot she loves at the end of the beach. Some rocks that jut out into the water. She's probably going to sit there. If you don't go out there I will smack you upside the head."
I ignore Karen for a minute, and sure enough, Stevie wanders over to the end of the beach, gracefully scaling a boulder and stepping carefully out over the water. She moves carefully from rock to rock and gets to the end, staring out at the water as the wind whips her hair and clothes around her.
I know I haven't really done anything wrong. I know she's just hurting and has no idea what to do or how to handle the fact that I just showed up. I still feel like shit for pushing her, but really, it isn't my fault. I finally follow Karen's orders and head out onto the beach, my stomach twisting itself into knots as she comes into view. The second she notices me, I pause, afraid she's going to run, but she doesn't. She watches me approach, a thoughtful expression on her face, which is way better than the fury I was expecting. Her hair is starting to dry into blonde ringlets, and for a minute I'm reminded of our summers in California in our 20s. She's just as gorgeous now as she was then. I know I'm staring at her, but I can't think of anything to say.
"You didn't leave," she finally says, eyes narrowing a little.
"You're the one that does that." It comes out of my mouth before I can stop myself and she looks wounded. That's way worse than angry.
"Fuck you, Lindsey."
"I didn't mean that."
"Yes, you did. Just because it hurts doesn't mean I don't deserve it," she says, turning away from me. She's obviously trying not to cry again and I just stand there. "I wish you wouldn't have come."
I feel like she just stuck a knife into my chest. "If you can look me in the eye and tell me you want me to leave, then I'll be on the next plane back."
"Of course I don't want you to fucking leave!"
"Then why are you being such a pain in the ass?"
"Because I can't do this!" We're yelling now, our voices competing with the sound of the waves below us. She's on her feet now, her arms starting to flail as she yells. "This isn't the way it was supposed to go, Lindsey! I spent my entire marriage trying to get over you, because I loved my husband. I loved him and he was good to me and he gave me a perfect daughter. And now he's gone. And then you come back and you're just... you're you and you're perfect and I am a fucking mess, Lindsey. I can't do this by myself." I want to interrupt her and calm her down and try to get her to actually make sense, but I know better. "I wanted so many things, Lindsey. We were trying to adopt a second baby. We were going to travel together and marry Brie off and have grandkids and be old together and now I'm just old and alone and everything feels wrong. I love you so much, Lindsey." Her voice cracks as she says my name and she pauses to compose herself. "I love that you are exactly who I have always needed you to be. I love that you chase me down and fly halfway across the world to find me. I love that you make me feel beautiful. I love that you can stand on a rock with me and let me scream at you. But I don't think I can be with you like this."
She says the last sentence and something in me snaps. "What do you mean 'like this?'" She shakes her head and turns away. "No. You don't get to do that. What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm not a good person," she says, tears streaming down her face.
"Why do you keep saying that?"
"Who the hell thinks about being with someone else while her husband is dying?"
The guilt and pain on her face is almost more than I can handle, and I fight against the lump forming in my throat. "You didn't cheat on him."
"I was in love with someone else!"
"And you still went home and did the right thing!"
She shakes her head again, tears spilling faster down her cheeks as she squeezes her eyes shut. "He knew. He knew how I felt about you, and he loved me anyway. I didn't deserve him."
"Yes, you did. You were a great wife," I tell her, trying not to show her how painful this conversation is for me.
"A great wife doesn't wish she'd married a different guy."
"You don't feel that way," I tell her, getting nervous.
"John was good to me and he gave my daughter and I loved him. But we both know it should have been you." My heart stops for a second, and I have no idea how to respond to that. She sits back down on the rock and clutches her knees to her chest, staring at nothing. "See? Who says things like that about their dead husband?"
I sit beside her and collect my thoughts for a while before speaking. "Do you remember the night you told me you were marrying him?" She nods, but I continue anyway. "I almost pinned you down and yanked that ring right off your finger." She laughs a little through her tears, and I smile at her. "I hated him for years. I couldn't stand the idea of you with anyone else. Then I saw you with Brie and realized that he made you happy. He adored you and he took care of you, and I couldn't have asked for anything else." She's crying openly, her shoulders shaking slightly, and I grab her hands, looking straight into her eyes. "I hate that you're hurt and I hate that this is how we got here, but he's gone now. It's okay for you to love me."
"But it wasn't okay for my entire marriage."
"You can't help who you love. All you can do is keep your promise and that's what you did."
"Why do you still want me so much?"
"Because you're funny and beautiful and smart and talented and you have the best smile on the entire planet. Because I love listening to you talk, and I love watching you sing and I love the way you feel when I hold you and I haven't been able to get you out of my head for about thirty years now."
"Kiss me."
I lean forward and press my lips to hers. "I love you," I tell her, grabbing one of her hands.
"I love you, too," she says. "You can stay."
"Good," I respond, laughing and getting to my feet. "Now let's go inside, you're starting to burn."
"I'm not leaving Italy, you know."
She's wrong, but I'm not going to tell her that.
