Like I Would


I knew Linda must have wanted to talk with Marc, because we all knew her boys were a little on the useless side doing anything in the kitchen. Not for lack of trying on her part, but when you’re always out the door for hockey, cooking kind of falls to the back burner – no pun intended. So instead I let Jordan pull me into his side as I tried to block out anything and everything that had just taken place.

Angie had called me a home wrecker. So did that mean Marc had told her about the kiss? Or had he come clean about the whole ‘asking me to New York’ thing in senior year? I had no doubts Angie would have had no clue about all of that at the time or immediately afterward – Marc wouldn’t have dropped that on her for fear of hurting her feelings. So what was it that had made her come out with that in front of everyone?

“Here, this might help,” Linda had a cup of cocoa for me, which I gratefully accepted. She always had made the best hot chocolate.

Marc followed her, mug in hand as he gingerly sat down beside me, making an effort to not really make eye contact or brush against my side. It almost hurt, that he was trying so hard to effectively cut me out. Whether it was to save face with everybody or what I didn’t know, but it didn’t make it any easier on me. Jordan noticed the slight change in my posture, and gave my shoulders a quick squeeze.

“Carly sweetheart, did you want us to just make up the bed in the spare room for you?” Linda asked a few minutes later. We’d all sat quietly while the news played on the television, nobody knowing what to say or how to even start up a menial conversation.

“If it’s not a bother… I don’t want anybody to have to drive me back at this hour,” I knew my face was heating up, but both Linda and Henry quickly assured me that nothing would be trouble, that whatever I was comfortable with would be fine.

“I’ll grab the sheets and stuff,” Marc offered, already up and partway to the hallway by the time we’d all realized what he’d said. Linda’s gaze went from me to where her son had just disappeared around the corner, and I realized that maybe Linda knew more than I’d thought. And that she thought Marc and I needed to talk.

“Thanks for helping Marc,” I mumbled, taking the pillows while he dug around for a fitted sheet.

“No problem Carly; you know that,” he told me, trying to force a smile onto his face. I followed him back to the living room, through the kitchen and then downstairs, trying to see around the huge fluffy pillows.

“Still… I hope I didn’t do anything to make Angie mad,”

“No, you didn’t. Anything can seem to make Angie mad,” he sighed, and immediately I felt dumb for even mentioning her. We made the bed in quiet tandem, before Marc hesitated a second, and then sat down on it, motioning for me to do the same.

“I just… I want to apologize for what she said. She had no right to,” this time it was my turn to stare anywhere but at him.

“Well she kind of does,” I whispered, and found the courage to look up at Marc for a second, watching understanding register on his face.

“I didn’t say anything about that to her. She really had no reason to say it Carly,” he insisted, before leaning and resting his chin on top of mine. That was all it took for me to melt right into him, and I couldn’t help but sigh as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice nearly cracking. Marc hated the unknown, hated uncertainty in his life, and yet here he was, in the safest place he could ever be, surrounded by his family, and feeling like he was sinking.

“You need to do what makes you happy Marc,” I replied, and those gorgeous hazel eyes turned to me for a second, the honey color having darkened with the emotions he was feeling.

“What if what makes me happy might not be what makes someone else happy?”

“I think Angie will figure her stuff out Marc, I mean if she—”

“Not Angie, Carly. You,” he corrected me, and I swear my heart actually stopped beating for a few seconds.


“Carly… I still… nothing’s changed since high school,” he told me, and I didn’t know whether to cry happy tears or throw up.

“Marc… Marc I…”

“I know, Carly please don’t freak out,” he begged, but as much as I wanted to listen to him I knew his words were falling on partially deaf ears.

I was the reason he and Angie were falling apart.

I was a home wrecker.