Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

A trap like that was a place I didn’t want to fall into. If my life was screwed up, it was my fault and only my fault. After all, I’d agreed to our living situation. But shaking the anger toward Theo that had ignited from our morning argument seemed almost impossible.

A couple of pages forward in the album brought me to a more recent photo of Dad and me. Charlie and Delia peeked out from behind my back, while Dad’s hand rested on my newly pregnant belly. It had been taken before Dad cut the ties to my mother for good. He made sure Mom was financially stable and she received the house in the settlement, his final selfless acts in taking care of a woman who thought of him as selfish. Dad looked restful and happy in the picture, full of warmth and love, pride shining from his eyes. “I wish you were here, Dad,” I whispered to myself. He’d died the year before, right after Lexie had been born.

While it had taken Dad a long time, in the end, he’d admitted the truth: his personal happiness was important, and something he had to think about. Unfortunately, that meant leaving Mom. Would I have to do the same thing? Would I be able to place my personal happiness above all else? Dad’s situation was so different from mine, wasn’t it?

The hum of the copier across the hall and the trill of the secretary’s phone interrupted my thoughts and prompted me to move to the next pages in line—a few pictures of Theo and me. Both of us on the volleyball court, our faces flushed from having played one another in one-hundred-degree heat and humidity. On the swing of his front porch, our legs extended in front of us, beers in hand. We’d been dating over a year by the point those pictures had been taken, and the vivid memories from that night stood out. That evening, I’d decided Theo Lancaster was the boy I was going to marry; I was sure of it.

That thought amused me now. The certainty and depth of my love. What about Theo had made me so secure in my feelings for him? Something about him had made me believe we’d make it. Forever. What had happened to make my love waver?

My intercom buzzed and broke me out of my reverie, ushering me back to the present and the urgency of work. The intercom button yielded against the tip of my finger.

“Hi, Sadie,” said Jackie. “How are you this morning?”

If she only knew. “I’m great. Something you need?”

“I wanted to say thank you again for this weekend. I can’t tell you how much we appreciated your help. I hope it wasn’t awkward with Andrew there.”

Jackie hadn’t heard yet that Andrew and Grocery Store Man were one and the same. How would Jackie react to the news? The admission would shock her.

“That’s what friends are for. If you need me to do it again, don’t hesitate to ask. But I might like to be on baby duty myself next time.” Flying solo would be easier on my heart.

“Oh. Did something happen? Pete spends more time with Andrew than I do, but he seems like he’s a great person. We hadn’t planned on having two people there, but it was late when Pete told me he’d asked Andrew too. Was Andrew difficult to talk to? Didn’t he help you?”

“Oh no, nothing like that.” The burden squatting on my shoulders needed to be released. Jackie was my friend and would do anything to help me. “I thought you might want to know that Andrew...” Under the desk, I wiggled my foot, nervous about my next words.

“Yes?” Jackie’s impatience boomed over the intercom. “He’s what? Boring? Rude? A real piece of work? I would bet that.” Jackie’s throaty laugh echoed over the speaker. “Several of the characters Pete hangs out with, well, they can be quite a handful—”

“No. Andrew MacKinnon is Grocery Store Man, Jackie.”

The clang of an object, like something dropping onto Jackie’s desk, sounded.

“Shit. Stay put. You hear me?” she said. “I’m heading over.”

Chapter 12: Sadie

Jackie walked into my office with such swiftness I thought she’d trip over herself in the process of trying to get through the narrow doorway.

“Oh. My. God.” Her face painted a picture full of shock and delight all rolled into one. “Andrew MacKinnon? Are you serious?” She shut the door behind her before stepping toward my desk. Jackie’s entire person sparkled with intense interest under the fluorescent lighting of my office.

“Yep. And why don’t you sit?” I gestured toward the chair.

“Why don’t I, indeed? This could take a while.” Jackie smoothed her skirt over her knees after she sat and then leaned back in the chair. “Do tell, girl, do tell.” A mischievous smile leapt across Jackie’s face, which deepened her dimples. “Andrew MacKinnon?” Jackie asked again. “Andrew?”

Suddenly, my office felt too warm, but Jackie deserved the truth, starting with my morning argument with Theo. My friend listened, her emotions flickering across her face, until she interrupted me with a question.

“Is Theo okay? How’s he doing?”

“He’s pretty closed up about everything, and if I don’t go with him to the doctor, if Brooke takes him, he doesn’t tell me all that much.”

“So...what about this argument? Where did it come from?”

Theo and I weren’t the type of couple who normally quarreled, but since the realization of his symptoms and the increase in chronic stress, we spent more time at war with one another than in the past. At one of Theo’s visits I had attended, the doctor said something about Theo’s behavior that stuck with me.

“Remember,” she said. “Sometimes the PTSD will do all the talking.” The phrase hadn’t made sense at the time. “Everything he perceives is real to him,” she had continued. “Theo’s hurting, and he doesn’t comprehend what to do with that hurt. His life is uncertain right now, and that’s a tough issue to