Chapter 2

I locked myself in my room, the yellow sundress crumpled on the floor.

The image of Mark asking Bree out burned in my mind.

He was reborn too, it was the only explanation.

And he didn't want me.

My seventy-two-year marriage, a lie?

I started to think, really think, about our past life.

Those "significant gestures" from Mark.

Our first official date, he' d been so charming.

But hadn't Bree just gotten engaged to someone else a week before that? Someone who moved away shortly after?

The proposal, the one I was reliving this morning.

Bree had been out of town that whole month, visiting family. Mark knew that.

Coincidences?

Or was I always his second choice, his fallback?

The thought made me sick.

All those years, I' d felt loved, cherished.

Had I been a fool?

A few days later, the town was still buzzing about Mark and Bree.

"They make such a cute couple," Mrs. Henderson from the bakery told Mom at the diner.

"Mark's a college graduate, you know. So ambitious. Bree deserves someone like that."

I served them coffee, my hand steady, my face a careful blank.

Mark was showering Bree with attention.

He bought her flowers, took her to the drive-in, paraded her around town like a trophy.

He' d never done that for me, not even when we were young.

Our dates had been quiet walks, evenings at home.

He' d always said he preferred it that way, that he wasn' t the "showy type."

Lies. It was all lies.

He was very much the showy type, just not for me.

The bitterness was a constant ache.

One afternoon at the diner, Bree came in during my shift.

She was looking for Mark, who was supposed to meet her.

She ordered a soda, and as I set it down, her arm bumped mine.

The glass tipped, soda splashing all over my white uniform.

"Oh, I am so sorry, Sarah!" Bree exclaimed, genuinely flustered. "I'm such a klutz."

She grabbed a napkin, dabbing at my shirt. "Look, take my jacket. It's new, but you need something to cover that up."

She shrugged off a trendy denim jacket, the kind I' d only seen in magazines.

"Mark just gave it to me," she added, a little proudly.

I hesitated. "No, it's okay, Bree."

"Don't be silly, take it. I insist."

Reluctantly, I put it on. It was a little big, but it covered the stain.

Just then, Mark walked in.

His eyes went from Bree to me, lingering on the jacket.

His face darkened.

"Sarah Miller," he said, his voice loud and accusing. "What do you think you're doing wearing Bree's jacket? Trying to steal it because you're jealous?"

The diner went quiet.

I froze, the unfairness of it hitting me hard. Steal it? Jealous?

He saw me as someone conniving, someone envious of Bree.

After seventy-two years of marriage, this is what he thought of me?

Bree stepped forward immediately.

"Mark, stop it! It was an accident. I spilled soda on Sarah, and I lent her my jacket. She didn't steal anything."

Mark looked from Bree's earnest face to my stunned one.

He grunted, a flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, but it vanished quickly.

"Oh. Well, whatever."

He didn't apologize to me. Not a word.

He just turned his attention back to Bree, all smiles and charm again. "Ready to go, beautiful?"

I watched them leave, his arm around her waist.

The denim jacket felt heavy on my shoulders, like a symbol of his contempt.

I took it off, handing it to Mom later to return to Bree.

There was no point in hoping for anything from Mark anymore.

He had made his feelings, or lack thereof, perfectly clear.

I decided then, I wouldn't let him break me.

The County Fair was next month, and they had a talent show.

I played guitar, I sang. In my past life, it was just for me, for my family.

Maybe this time, it could be for something more.

Maybe it could be my way out.