The Shuddering

heels of his hands resting against the edge of the counter, studying the tips of his combat boots. “Listen,” he said after a long pause. “I feel like an asshole. Losing touch…” He hesitated. “It’s my fault, I know that. I should have fixed it.”
    “Why didn’t you?”
    “Come on, Janey.”
    She sighed, crumpling the napkin up in her hand, slowly turning so that she could see him. He stood just the way she had imagined, his head bowed, his legs crossed at the ankles.
    “I was out in Boston; you started teaching; then you got married.” He looked up at her. “Still are, right? What was I supposed to do?”
    She felt numb.
    “You could have at least come to the wedding,” she said softly.
    “So you could have had a severely uncomfortable guy sitting alone at a table during the reception?”
    He was right. Inviting Sawyer to the wedding had been a strange thing to do. She’d never admit that after dropping his invitation in the mail, she’d hoped he’d show up, if only to answer the pastor’s call: “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
    “Well, you could have at least RSVP’d,” she whispered.
    “I know. I’m sorry.”
    “I kept wondering if you had just forgotten.”
    He held his silence.
    “I left a spare seat open at the head table.” It was a secret she had sworn she’d never confess. “I was worried that you’d come and you wouldn’t have anywhere to sit.”
    “Jesus.” The word came out upon a breath. “Ryan didn’t tell me…”
    “I asked him not to.”
    “It was your day,” he said. “I didn’t want to screw things up.”
    She dared to look up at him then, chewing her bottom lip before diverting her eyes again. “Your hair’s gotten long,” she told him, her gaze focused on the floor. “It looks good; like a proper musician.”
    It was the reason he had left for Boston: to become a sound engineer, to rub elbows with his favorite artists and make them sound more amazing than they really did. She couldn’t imagine what was going through April’s mind, Sawyer’s closest friend looking like he’d stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog rather than a rock club. She wondered how weird it was for April to realize her edgy boyfriend hung out with a bunch of trendy yuppies who—
    Without warning, Sawyer pushed away from the counter and breached the distance between them. He reached out, took Jane’s head in his hands, his palms pressing against her cheeks. Her heart stopped as she felt his breath drift across the curve of her bottom lip. She let her eyes flutter shut, not wanting to see what was coming. When he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a tiny voice inside her head cried out, screaming that he wasn’t fooling anyone, that they both knew what they wanted. Maybe if they just gave in…
    “Good night,” he whispered. He turned away from her and grabbed a can of Coke out of the fridge. She opened her mouthto speak as he lingered there, the cold refrigerator light casting a halo around his frame, but couldn’t find the words. He glanced back at her as if about to say something more, but he silently left the kitchen instead.
    The moment he was out of sight, Jane slid into Ryan’s chair, the drumming of her heart threatening to choke her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Sawyer didn’t want more. He had April, and April was beautiful. He had moved on, while she continued to cling to the past.
    “Shit,” she whispered, pressing her fingertips against her eyelids, fighting the sting of tears. She was pathetic. Weak. She had sworn up and down that she was ready for this, but she wasn’t. She had insisted that everything would be fine, but nothing was.
    Oona padded across the kitchen and nudged Jane’s elbow with her nose. Instinctively, Jane scratched behind the dog’s ears before getting up, flipping off the kitchen lights, and moving down the hall, the husky at her heels.
    It was only after she was halfway up the stairs that she realized it hadn’t been Oona she’d heard outside.
    “I’m in love.” Despite her wet hair, Lauren was already in bed when Jane came into the master bedroom, the covers tucked beneath her arms, a Vogue magazine she’d found in the bathroom opened to a Chanel ad. “I just thought it fair to tell you now rather than springing it on you later, when I’m knee-deep in wedding planning and packing my bags for Switzerland.”
    Jane shook her head as she closed the door behind her, and Lauren’s smile faded when