And then it hit her. Monday was their two year anniversary. He was going to propose. Deidre almost dropped her breakfast. She told him a million times there was no way she was going to marry him then turn around and die. They argued about marriage for weeks before he finally went silent on the matter. She'd thought he dropped it; maybe he hadn't. Maybe he figured she'd change her mind if she saw a ring.
He was in for a surprise if he tried. Angry at him again, she realized she'd been trying to work up the courage to break up with him for weeks. She had a private bucket list she didn't show him, one with things on it she wasn't sure she should want. Like, hooking up with a stranger at a bar like they did in movies and a few sex positions she'd been subtly trying to talk him into.
Unsuccessfully.
She was a few weeks out from never having these opportunities again.
"Okay," she said. "Have fun."
He looked relieved. She felt relieved. As much as she cared for him, he was driving her crazy the past few months. He didn't seem to get it. Her bucket list was getting longer while her time was getting shorter. He wanted to mourn and tread water until the inevitable. She wanted to do everything she'd ever wanted.
"You want to walk to the farmer's market this morning?" she asked.
He hesitated then said, "No."
"Okay," she said cheerfully. "I'll see you later."
She couldn't really be irritated with him. He was, after all, taking time off work during the busiest time of the year for an accountant to be with her. It counted for something but did nothing to soothe her anger.
Dressed in a sundress and sandals, Deidre left the bungalow on the beach and walked down the long driveway to the small road. She marveled at the world, the gentle sunshine, beautiful sky, the fragrant ocean breeze that ruffled her pink-striped blond hair, the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes. This was the most perfect place in the world.
The farmers market was teeming with the locals and makeshift booths lining a cordoned off section of the beach town nearby. She meandered through it, absorbing the life around her. Fresh produce, homemade foods, handmade crafts and soaps. She touched, smelled and tasted everything she could, determined to remember every pleasurable part of every day she had left. The homemade ice cream stand drew her attention, and she crossed to it.
"Can I help …" he stopped.
Deidre glanced up with a smile. The guy behind the counter was staring at her, his mouth lax and his eyes wide. For the second time in as many days, she thought she saw red tattoos flash. They faded as she looked directly at them. Were these the first of the hallucinations Dr. Wynn warned her about?