Authors: Stacey Wiedower
None of that mattered, though, because Sherri grinned, interrupting Erin as she scanned her mental list. "I was hoping you were going to ask me that."
"Fab," Erin said, feeling a tiny part of her tension lift. Suddenly she was impatient for the trip. "I've been searching airfare, but everything else should be covered. The winery's PR firm sent me an itinerary, and I've been doing research on other vineyards and tastings and all that. They're even sending vouchers for meals at restaurants, and I've Googled them, and they all look
awesome
."
"Sweet," Sherri said. "You know I'm down. Let's go look at flights."
Erin smiled at Sherri's retreating back as she bounced out of the room, thinking how grateful she was to have such an uncomplicated friendship.
Then Ben's worried face popped into her head and stayed there until, about an hour later and with two flights booked for the first week of May, she fell into a hard, exhausted sleep.
* * *
"I'm nervous." Catherine's low, unpleasantly nasal voice still surprised Erin every time she heard it.
Ben's head swiveled in the backseat, and Erin was glad she was driving so she couldn't see what type of look or gesture he gave her as reassurance.
"You've got this," he said. "Besides, you'll have Angela with you."
Catherine had wanted Ben to run with her, but she couldn't keep his pace, and he hadn't offered to slow his pace to match hers. Instead he was running with Erin Sunday morning, and she was glad—and surprised. The plan was for Catherine to run the half with a friend from med school and for Sherri to meet the four of them at the finish line.
Even though the marathon was her idea and even though Sherri's presence kept her from being a third wheel, Erin felt like a glaring outsider on this trip. She and Ben had continued training together, so when he'd suggested they ride together to Austin, as she'd feared he might, Erin went along with the plans as if it weren't at all uncomfortable to squeeze herself and Catherine into a confined space for six round-trip hours. At least Sherri's presence meant Erin was largely able to ignore the couple in the backseat.
So far, Ben and Erin had each had a turn at driving. When they'd stopped for gas and traded places everyone played musical chairs—an unspoken agreement to make sure Erin and Cat didn't wind up together in the front or back seats. She had no interest in getting to know Cat better, and the palpable tension between them let her know the feeling was mutual, as if there'd been any doubt. Erin and Ben's history was, after all, the reason Cat was here, and she didn't know the half of it.
Or, does she?
Erin didn't know if Ben had ever told Catherine what happened between them the night he never came home. She imagined he hadn't—if he had, she was sure Catherine would never allow Erin to be in the same room with her, let alone with Ben. As it was, Erin figured the only reason Cat signed up for the race in the first place was to keep her eye on Ben and Erin.
Sitting there in cramped quarters with Catherine and Ben, Erin felt their night together as if it were crawling on her skin. The guilt of it was overwhelming, all these months later. She glanced in the rearview mirror.
Doesn't Ben feel it, too?
"Austin city limits," Sherri announced as they passed the green sign, dragging Erin from her thoughts. "Alex has always wanted to go on that show." She giggled.
"Dork," Erin joked, giving her a sideways smirk as she glanced down at Ben's car's navigation system. Nine more miles to their destination, and the miles couldn't peel away fast enough. Erin just wanted to get this weekend over with as quickly as possible.
As she glanced back up, a blue SUV swerved into the lane in front of them. Erin slammed the brakes, and the driver behind her laid on his horn. He jerked out from around her, and Erin kept her eyes straight ahead as he passed.
"Toto, we're not in Dallas anymore," she mumbled. Dallas drivers were for the most part unnaturally polite, a fact she always failed to appreciate until she attempted to drive someplace else.
Nine miles later, her nerve endings felt like live wires. Erin handed Ben's keys to the valet and plucked her bag from the pile on the sidewalk. Sherri was waving wildly at Alex, whose gray Chevy pickup was parked at the curb a few yards ahead of them. Sherri wasn't staying at the hotel—she was spending the weekend at Alex's place.
Erin started toward the revolving doors.
"I'm going to go check in," she said over her shoulder. "I'll text and meet up with you guys later."
Sherri, who was getting out of the car, said, "Okay. See ya in a bit."
Just before she turned away, Erin caught the surprised look on Ben's face and quickened her stride.
She had no interest in watching Ben and Catherine check into their shared room.
* * *
Erin's right hand moved to the "stop" button on her watch. As she slowed to a walk in the tight corral just past the finish line, she glanced at her time: three hours, fifty-two minutes. She'd aimed to keep up with Ben's 3:40 pace group, but all in all, not bad. She lifted her arms and placed both hands behind her head as she worked to catch her breath, her right quad throbbing with pain she hadn't felt since she'd injured the muscle in a track meet senior year.
After she left the finish chute, a medal around her neck, Erin took the foil cover-up from the race attendant's outstretched hand and draped it over her shoulders, though she didn't feel the chilly air or wintry wind swirling between the downtown Austin buildings.
I can't believe I did it!!!
Of all the items on her Thirty by Thirty List, completing a marathon was her biggest, dearest goal. Her heart raced and her head tingled with pride and excitement even as her body threatened to give out. She wanted to tell somebody, to jump up and down—though her legs, which jiggled and trembled like a tray of Jell-O shots, wouldn't have allowed it.
She continued pacing the track, working to bring her heart rate down and acclimate to this new state of seeming inertia. After a minute or two, she looked around for Ben. They'd hung together until the eighteenth mile, when he'd pulled ahead or she'd dropped behind—most likely the latter. She was in good form, but his was better.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she swiveled, a huge smile coming to her lips. It faded somewhat as she found not Ben but Sherri, Alex two steps behind her.
He was wearing cowboy boots and a flannel shirt that was open over a T-shirt, no jacket, and Erin shivered for the first time since crossing the finish line. Sherri had on a wool-lined suede jacket and new boots the same red-brown shade as Alex's—she must have bought them that morning during the race, probably to match his. Erin shook her head.
Sherri was bouncing up and down on her toes. "Congratulations, girlfriend! You did it!"
She leaned in as if for a hug, then seemed to think better of it. Erin became aware of the drying sweat that plastered her hair to her forehead and crusted on her upper lip. Sherri raised a hand for a high-five, and Erin slapped it. "Hell, yeah, I did!" She looked around impatiently.
"Ben and Cat went back to the hotel," Sherri answered Erin's unasked question. "He finished about fifteen minutes ago, and she hustled him right on out of here."
Disappointment sank in Erin's stomach like a rock tossed into a pond, and she felt almost like she'd been slapped. After all their history on the track, she wanted nothing more than to celebrate her finish with him.
She glanced around. On all sides people were congregated around the finishers—husbands, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, parents, kids. The atmosphere was charged with victory, and though she was grateful for Sherri's presence, Erin felt very alone.
She gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm starving," she said.
"I'll bet," Sherri answered. She pulled a banana out of her tiny Kate Spade purse, which was so nonsensical it made Erin smile in spite of herself. Sherri laughed and pointed to a table a few yards behind them. "They're giving them out over there."
Erin scarfed down the fruit and walked over to the table to get a cup of Gatorade and another banana. Her mouth full, she said, "Where's the beer tent? Let's celebrate."
Despite herself, Erin felt bitter about the fact that Cat had forced Ben to leave. She wanted to savor the visible results of her triumph, and usually Ben would, too. For a split second her brain forced a mental image on her of Ben and Catherine post-race, celebrating their finish alone in their room.
Thankfully Alex interrupted the thought. "There," he said, and Erin followed his finger with her eyes to an area marked "Lone Star Victors' Bar."
"Awesome," she said.
The three of them started in the direction of the red-and-white striped tent. Erin's limbs were stiff. It felt like her feet were moving outside of her control.
"You guys remember my buddy Travis, right?" Alex continued, and Erin faltered a step, her breath catching in her throat. "I told him you were in town, and he asked about meeting up later." He glanced at Erin curiously and so did Sherri.
"Um, yeah. Sure," Erin said in a voice that was brighter than her mood. Her mind traveled to that balmy night in Paris, to the blue velvet corner of a smoky club where she and Travis had talked and nuzzled for hours while Alex and Sherri did the same. "It'd be awesome to see him again."
And to stay the hell away from Ben and Catherine until tomorrow's car ride home squeezed them all together again.
* * *
"All right, guys. I'm wiped." A wide yawn punctuated Erin's statement, wracking her whole body at its finish. Travis, whose arm was slung across her, squeezed her shoulder.
"Poor thing." He smiled down at her. "You've been a great sport, hanging with us."
Erin's legs didn't feel quite as much like gelatinous mush as before, but now all her limbs were stiff and sore—and she knew this wouldn't be the half of it. The real pain of today's race would hit tomorrow or the next day. She wanted nothing more than to stretch out on her room's king-size bed. Alone.
It was clear Travis had other ideas. He grazed her ear with his lips and trailed small kisses along her jaw. All night she'd sensed he was ready to pick up where they'd left off in Paris at the tiniest signal from her. She'd been careful to keep her body language neutral, but it was getting harder now that she'd had a few drinks…especially as loopy as her post-race body felt.
"I'll walk you to the elevator," Travis said.
Erin stifled a sigh, wondering if he actually thought she was going to invite him up.
Ha! Not gonna happen.
Even if she wanted it to be, her body wasn't up to the performance. Sherri was watching her with raised eyebrows, and Erin shook her head infinitesimally.
She unlaced herself from Travis' arms and stood, wobbling like a newborn colt finding its legs. Travis followed her lead, but Sherri and Alex stayed in their seats.
"I'm going to finish this," Sherri said, pointing at her glass of wine, "and then we'll head back." Her barstool was so close to Alex's she was almost in his lap.
"See you in the morning," Erin said.
Sherri had come on the trip to give Erin moral support and keep her from being forced to ride alone with Ben and Catherine, but also to see Alex. After dinner she, Alex, and Travis had come in for drinks at the Hilton bar instead of dropping Erin off at the door. Ben and Catherine hadn't surfaced since the race, or even called.
Travis put his arm around Erin again as they left the bar. The lobby, to her mind, was a blur of cream marble and well-dressed people. Its cacophony of voices was a buzz in her ears—no single person or voice stood out. She leaned into Travis heavily and followed the lead of his slow, easy gait.
The guest room elevator bank was encapsulated in a long oval with an entrance on either side, the carpeted floor and wood veneer walls muffling the din of the lobby beyond. Erin pulled away, preparing to take her leave, but Travis said, "Why don't you let me help you up to your room? You look like you're about to fall out."
Erin started to protest, but he lifted a hand to stop her.
"I'm not puttin' the moves on you," he said. "I know you've got to be damned exhausted, after what you did today. I swear I'll just get you inside then turn around and head straight home." His eyes twinkled. "Much as I'd rather stay."
Erin smiled, too tired to either argue or feel relieved. "Sure," she said. "Thanks." She leaned back into his side to wait for a car.
The light on the button went out, and the middle set of doors in the row of three elevators opened. She stepped on beside Travis and reached up to press the button for the fifteenth floor, his arm still draped across her shoulders.
Just before the doors slid closed, the ones across the vestibule opened, and Ben stepped off along with another guest. His eyes caught Erin's for a brief moment, and she watched as spasms of emotion crossed his face—first surprise, then confusion, then something that resembled frustration.
She thought about his insistence that they ride to the race together and his disappearance that afternoon, and the feeling was mutual.
The Big Time
February: four months to thirty
Erin minimized the screen where she was typing up a new blog post, feeling blocked as she attempted to sum up in a few paragraphs the exhilaration of accomplishing her most meaningful goal.
She pulled up Outlook and skimmed the messages in her inbox. The subject line of one email caused her heart to leap into her throat:
Date: February 24
To: Erin Crawford
From: Tara Jenkins
Re: The Bachelor
With a shaky hand, she clicked to open the message, unsure whether to feel excited or scared. Was she about to get called out for infringing on the show's intellectual property? She mentally catalogued the times she'd compared her blog to
The Bachelorette
in interviews and on her own website. Then she began to read: