I laughed. Strands of dark blonde hair fell across my face. I reached out and tucked it behind my ear. “I guess it would be OK for just a moment, but who’ll take care of the guests?”

He frowned again he eyes darkening in anger. “Who’s taking care of you?”

“I-I…” I stammered, unsure of what to say. No one cared or worried about me, a fact that I was used to. It was always the other way around. I was the worrier. Harvey’s question caught me off-guard.

“They’re not wild animals, Sara. And who cares what anyone thinks? If you don’t want to be here, then leave.” His bluntness was refreshing, like a cold shower on a hot day.

A shred of clarity began to peek through the haze.

“OK,” I replied.

Harvey grabbed my hand and hauled me out of the house, escaping via the back door before I could change my mind. The sharpness of the fresh air made my eyes widen, and my lungs inhaled the blissful scent of drying rain. It’d been so stuffy in the house, it’d been a wonder I’d been able to breathe.

We walked towards the small cut that led through to the dense wood at the back of the house. Making the most of the sun, which appeared through thick white clouds, I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and let it coat me in a blanket of warmth that streamed down upon me.

“Feel better?”

I smiled and nodded. I felt the corners of my lips tilt up as I opened my eyes again.

“Yes, much.” I paused to look at him. For all his faults, his selfishness and whoring around, I had to wonder how he could be so kind to me.

“Harvey? How did you know I needed to escape the wake?”

“Does it matter?” he replied simply.

I guess not, I thought, in the great scheme of things. I shook my head.

We walked deeper into the woods, and comfortable silence fell between us. Birds chirped up in the trees, their voices singing along our route. Their little wings flapped up to the sky while flocks scattered around the treetops. Sunlight became our torch, straining to illuminate our way through the dense canopy.

With Harvey by my side, or in some case where the path narrowed, behind me, I suddenly had the urge to voice my thoughts and feelings. It was as if the vacuum he created by keeping quiet was forcing me to spill my secrets. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, nibbling at the skin. “Harvey?”

He turned his head and looked at me. Eyebrows lifted. “Yes?”

“Have you ever felt the sense of not knowing what to do? Of feeling lost?”

“Not really,” he said, his eyes darting away.

“Oh.” Feeling the need to explain myself I continued. “It’s just now that Eric’s gone, I’m alone, and I guess I feel like I’ve lost my place in the world. With him I knew what my life was all about, and I’d accepted it. Came to terms with everything. It was all planned out, you know? My life was on this unstoppable train, but now—shit—I can’t help but feel like I’ve been derailed, and I’m stuck in limbo.”

The words slipped freely from my mouth. My voice came out hoarse and tired from holding back the emotion that was building in my chest. My eyes started to burn for the first time that day. Droplets spilled down my cheeks, and I immediately wiped them away, feeling ridiculous. How could I be mourning a life with a man who’d routinely belittled me, beat me, and violently raped me?

“You must think I’m a fool,” I said, thanking him when he offered his handkerchief.

“You’re not a fool, Sara. You have every right to cry for your dead husband. For what you’ve lost. No one is holding that against you, and if they did, screw them—”

“I’m not crying for him,” I suddenly blurted, shocked at my own words as I realised the truth of them.

“What do you mean?”

Could I tell him? How would he look at me if he knew? The relief I experienced, the weight that had lifted from my shoulders the moment I’d seen Eric’s bruised body. Even though I was finally free, I was terrified that without the weight to keep me tethered I would just float away and disappear. I needed to share it with someone…

But Harvey wasn’t the right person to spill all this to. He wouldn’t understand. Harvey didn’t do feelings, not in all the years I’d known him. The only feelings he knew were the ones he got when he closed a business deal, or the victory and thrill of the hunt when he managed to plant his flag in an unsuspecting female.

I still remembered the streams of tears from one my distant cousins, Becky, at our parents’ wedding party. He’d told her exactly what she wanted to hear, that he’d take her away from her boring little life with her fat, useless husband, he’d take her places… see the world. Instead, he fucked her every which way from Sunday in a not-so-private alcove during the wedding party and didn’t even have the decency to apologise for the lives he’d ruined.

“Nothing, I didn’t mean it. Forget I said anything.”

We continued our walk, looping back around the trail and approached the back door. “Sara, you know deserve all the happiness in the world, right? Don’t let what’s happened make you think otherwise.”

Fresh tears began to flow. Maybe I’d judged him too harshly. Maybe beneath all the bravado, the slick suits and all the women he used and discarded, perhaps there was something more to him. Or perhaps not, as his attention wavered to the same stunning women I’d seen at the hospital, who now stood at the top of the back door steps.

“And you have me. I’ll be at your side as much you need me. But not right now, there’s something I need to deal with,” he said and went towards her.

Thankfully most of the guests had left by the time I walked back into the house. A few people lurked in a corner near the remaining open bottles of alcohol. Their heads turned to watch me, judge me, as I entered the room. Clearly my absence had been noted.

My eyes caught sight of my mother, my stepdad Russell, and Anita and her family in the kitchen. I turned instead towards the drinks table and poured myself a 3-fingered glass of whiskey, no ice.

“Where have you been?” A familiar female voice cut through me.

My sister, with her hands planted on top of her slim hips, fumed with anger. Her face flushed with annoyance. “We were worried sick!”

Taken aback, I took a huge swig, draining the glass, then reached for the bottle again.

“I went out for a quick walk. I had to get out of here one way or another, and you wouldn’t let me go lie down,” I bit back.

Anita snorted, her tongue tutting in disgust, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I don’t believe you! All these people were here to support you, and you just left. You can’t half be ungrateful sometimes, Sara.”

“I’m ungrateful?”

“Yes,” she spat. “I bet you didn’t even think about how I would have to look after everyone once you disappeared. People were asking where you were. It’s like you don’t even care!”

Hurt and fury boiled together like molten lava that made me see a flash of red. “Of course I care! Eric was my husband, Anita.”

“Then fucking act like it!” she screamed, walking towards me with clear determination in her eyes. She lifted up a hand and pointed it at my chest, probing me with her sharp nail.

I shook my head though my fingers trembled. “Just because I’m not falling to pieces before your eyes doesn’t mean I’m not grieving. I loved Eric. I did,” I whispered, failing to add the next thought in my head—that I also hated him, that I regretted not having the courage to kill him myself for all the pain he’d put me through.

“You know what?” she screeched, her nail dug so deep that I wouldn’t have been surprised if she drew out a trickle of blood. “Never mind. There’s no talking to you anyway. You’re selfish. Mom was out of her mind with worry. But you’ve always got to do your own thing and fuck the rest of us. You’ve always been selfish, and you’ll never change.”