“He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah. I wish I could storm into his office and line all the McCormick men up as my puppets and make him see reason like a certain someone I know did for me two years ago.”
“You didn’t, um, do that by any chance, did you?” I ask in panic. “Because this isn’t the same as you and Declan.”
“No, no office storming. That’s your deal. But I did talk to him.”
Lightbulb.
That’s why she sent everyone off in the limo.
“And?” My gooseflesh now has nothing to do with the weather.
Trouble seeps into her expression. “Andrew’s terrified. He would never admit it, but he is the son who does whatever James wants. Dec says before their mom died, Terry was the rebel and Andrew was the cocky, carefree player. He did well in sports and that was it. Mouthed off to James because James let him. He was headed for pro sports and the wasp sting ended that.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Have you ever talked to Andrew about what happened when he woke up?”
Our conversation from the last time we made love hits me.
“Yes.”
“How James couldn’t stop being so angry with Declan for the choice he made?”
“Yes.” My own anger rises so fast.
“And how it makes Andrew feel like he’s here only because Declan made a choice James might not have chosen himself, in the moment.”
My heart stops. No, really. We can’t survive without the push of blood through the sixty thousand miles of blood vessels within us, delivering oxygen and nutrients, but Shannon’s words deprive me of one beat.
Just one.
“Andrew doesn’t really think his father would prefer he’d died?”
“It’s so complicated,” Shannon groans, starting to pace. “No. Of course not. He loves Andrew. But Dec has described how he just shut down because of his own trauma from the event, and how James put Andrew into boarding school and he had to change sports, and how Andrew told him once—and he told me this, too—that he feels like when their mom chose him to survive, she didn’t realize that the family would be destroyed.”
“Oh, God. It’s like what he said to me.”
She stops in front of me. We must look like mangy raccoons by now, makeup long worn off and hair like magpie nests. I have a hair clip and probably a stray shot glass in there. Shannon’s disco top looks like crumpled aluminum foil, and her eyes are tired.
So tired.
“He won’t let you pick him, right?”
I nod.
“He woke up to a world where his mother made this huge sacrifice, but he felt unworthy. Andrew has spent the last twelve years trying to make up for the fact that his mother loved him so much she chose to leave James and her boys behind for his sake.”
“And James never got the choice,” I say, the reality hitting me.
Headlights glimmer, then triangulate, the rectangles stretching and skewing with the turn into the parking lot.
“Ms. Warrick. Ms. Jacoby.” It’s Gerald. “Soon to be Mrs. McCormick,” he adds with a wink.
Shannon shivers as we climb in.
“Let’s go to Amanda’s place first,” she tells him on the intercom.
My head is in my hands with the blinding grief of what I’m hearing. “Andrew knows what the aftermath of losing someone so fragile is like.”
“Hey, I may have a life-threatening allergy, but fragile is a bit much, isn’t it?” Shannon chides.
“Honestly? No. No. It’s not. You and Andrew are at opposite ends of the risk spectrum on this, Shannon.”
She frowns and says nothing.
“He isn’t afraid of what I thought he was afraid of.”
“Commitment?” she asks.
I shake my head. “He’s afraid of the mess his death would leave behind. That one-in-a-gazillion chance that he’d be stung and not have an EpiPen and not get medical attention and...the Hobson’s Choice that Declan was stuck with is so rooted in Andrew and...I give up. I can’t puzzle through it any more. I feel like I’m just going around and around in a never-ending loop.”
“Like Andrew.” She sighs. “Like Declan.”
I jolt. “What do you mean?”
“They can’t, you know...” We’re exhausted, and the strain of months of wedding planning shows in her shoulders, the dark circles under her eyes, and I can hear it in her emotional voice. Shannon’s like a guitar string pulled too tight. “Declan is still haunted by the fact that he couldn’t save them both. James is angry he had his life ripped out from under him and couldn’t control the outcome.”
“And Andrew?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice goes quiet. “I think Andrew feels like he owes it to the world to make sure he never puts himself in any true risk.”
“Why do you?”
“Why do I what?”
“Live like a normal person. Go out into nature. Let yourself be around bees.”
“Because I’d go crazy spending my life mitigating all the what ifs. That’s not really living.”
“Why can’t Andrew see that?”
Newton is just close enough to the piano bar that the drive is almost over, especially at this hour of the night. As Gerald guides the limo into my driveway, I’m assured by the sight of lights on in the house. Mom made it home safe.
“I’m guessing it’s like Declan and James. I don’t know Terry well enough to know if it’s true for him, but I know that Dec and James can’t let go of the fact that this happened without their being able to fix it.”