I hear his footsteps stop in the hall.
“I saw Dylan today at the grocery store.” I laugh a little, but there’s no humor in it at all. “He couldn’t believe that I didn’t already know. That I was still friends with a woman who …” I trail off when I look up to find Leo in the doorway, his face bleached of all color.
“What?” he rasps.
“A woman who sexually assaulted you.” I meet his eyes, unflinching. Daring him to try to deny it.
He inhales sharply, and I stand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He doesn’t answer me. The duffel bag slips from his fingers, but he still doesn’t answer me.
“Why?” I scream the word at him, my chest heaving as my eyes fill with tears. “All you had to do was tell me …” I suck in a breath, my fingers finding their way into my hair and twisting, “You let me, oh God, I feel sick.” I drop my arms, glaring at him. “You just let me do that to you when all you had to do was open your damn mouth and talk to me,” I finish with a whisper.
He closes his eyes, leaning heavily against the doorframe. I grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him. “Talk to me, damn it. Tell me why!”
His eyes flash open as the pillow collides with his chest then falls to the floor next to him. “Because I couldn’t!” he roars then his voice softens. “I just … couldn’t.”
My brows pull into a frown as I sniff. And looking at his pained expression, I suddenly get it. I don’t agree with it, but I understand a little better. He’s always seemed so untouchable. A powerhouse of vitality and wealth. He embodies strength in every facet of his life. He exhibits control in everything he does.
Except for this.
Except for this inexcusable violation that’s not only fucked with his head, it’s also tainted everything.
“Because you’re worried about what others might think of you? You’re worried that I—”
He cuts me off, his top lip curling. “Would look at me the way you’re looking at me now?”
My head shakes frantically, but he keeps going. “I don’t want your pity, Lia. I can’t fucking handle that shit. And I didn’t want you to think …” He pauses, scrubbing his hands down his face.
“What?” I ask softly.
“That I betrayed you in some way.” He drops his hands, staring at the carpeted floor. “I didn’t want to let it become some kind of big deal. I thought I could just ignore it.”
I chew on my lip. “But it wouldn’t let you.”
His head snaps up, and he stares at me for a moment then shakes his head.
I walk over to him, stopping when he takes a step back.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I never would have done it. I never even meant to …” His eyes darken as he keeps them on me. Hesitantly, I reach out and grab his hand. He surprises me by letting me. I stare down at our hands, turning his wedding band over and rubbing my fingers softly over every inch of skin he’s allowing me to touch. “I’ve only ever wanted you. And when I thought you didn’t want me anymore, I was desperate for you to see me again.”
He lets a sigh loose. “I see you, Lia. I’ve always seen you.” I look up at him then, my heartbeat kicking up speed in my chest. “Even in my darkest moments, you shined so fucking bright. Bright enough to keep me going.” He pulls his hand away. “Until you broke me even more and left me alone in the dark.” He steps back, bending to grab his bag before walking out of the room.
And all I can do is watch as he goes. Watch even after the door has slammed closed and I hear his car take off out on the street. I hear it all before being engulfed in the dead silence that now radiates through every air particle in this big house. And suddenly, I can’t breathe.
I never knew silence could be so suffocating.
I refill my wine glass and head upstairs to climb into the bath I’ve run for myself. Stripping out of my dress and cardigan, I throw them on the floor. After sinking down into the bubbles, I take a sip from my glass and place it on the corner of the bath next to the bottle of bubble liquid.
It’s funny, really. That you sometimes find yourself wishing for a moment of solitude, just a little time for yourself, only to finally get it and hate everything about it.
I sink farther down into the water and close my eyes to try to keep the tears from falling. It’s not like I expected us to get anywhere tonight but to know that this chasm between us is only widening is terrifying me to the point of shaking. And what’s worse is I can’t tell anyone. I can’t call Lola and spill all my problems to her this time. I can’t betray him like that. I’ve already betrayed him enough.
I sniff, wiping my nose, then I pick up my glass and down the rest of its contents before throwing it at the wall and watching it shatter on the tiles in front of the shower. In a daze, I stare at the mess, wondering why, when there’s so many missing pieces, so many irreparably broken fragments, you would even contemplate trying to piece it all back together. It’d be a misshapen cluster of desperation. A warped memory of what it once was, never to be the same again.
When the water cools, I decide I’ve had enough and climb out. I dry myself, walking back into the room and falling onto the bed on my stomach with the towel still wrapped around me. I close my eyes, wondering where he went, where he might be staying for the weekend. But even if I knew, would it do me any good?
My eyes open, landing on his nightstand where a photo sits of the four of us together. We were sitting outside the aquarium in Rayleigh. Greta was only four years old and Charlie six. They look so small, but it’s not them that snags my attention. It’s the way Leo and I are smiling at each other with a child sitting on each of our laps, instead of the camera. A love like ours isn’t only beautiful, it’s rare. I know that. Yet I was so eager to potentially ruin it with my anguish and recklessness. So much so, that I might have actually succeeded. I lean over, grabbing the black framed photo and pulling it to me. Lying on my side, I swipe a finger over the two faces that have no idea of what’s to come, of the heartache and hurdles they have yet to face.
But I know now. And I guess the only thing left to do is decide.
I need to decide if I’ll give up and continue to let the pieces keep falling, or if I’ll fight for what’s left of my heart, for the other half of my soul, and try to knit them all back together somehow. Placing the frame down on the bed next to me, I rest my head on my arm. He needs me—has needed me all this time. He just didn’t know how to ask for help.
And if he can’t ask, I’ll just have to try to give it to him anyway.