My eyes feel bloodshot. They burn just from the cool air as I finally sit back down in my office. I’m always here. I never leave this room unless I have to.

And when I do I bring my laptop with me.

Workaholic is a word for it. I’m not sure that even does it justice. I gave up everything for this.

It’s why I came to New York.

It’s why I spent years in the publishing industry, making contacts and creating a brand that’s recognizable. But I do it on my own.

While Evan stayed the same, and carried on with a life that was a fun distraction, I’ve buried myself in work. Growing farther and farther apart from my husband.

Ignored friends … at least I didn’t have family to ignore. Other than Evan.

I rub my eyes again and try to soothe them, but the darkness is all I can see. It begs me to sleep.

I desperately need it. I can’t even read an email right. My meeting with Jacob is next week. I spent an entire hour sitting mindlessly in the coffee shop on my own before I bothered to check the time and date.

At least the coffee was comforting. But the rain was coming down in sheets, and any sense of ease was gone by the time I dragged my ass back home to an empty townhouse.

My shoulders rise and fall as I take another look at the screen. The black and white is too harsh and I almost shut the laptop down and give in to sleep, but my phone goes off, scaring the shit out of me.

Evan.

It’s my first thought and I hate how my heart sinks when I see it’s not him. It’s his father.

In my contact list, it still says Evan’s parents’ house.

It’s the house phone in Evan’s family home.

Marie gave the number to me the night I first saw her, so she could call me about next Sunday’s dinner, all those years ago. Every time I see it, Evan’s parents’ house, I’m reminded that only Henry remains.

It’s not a reminder I welcome. Just the same as the reminder of my own parents’ sudden death in a car crash.

That’s something Evan and I had in common, both of us losing our loved ones so quickly. He still has his father at least, but I’ve had no one for most of my life.

We’d only been seeing each other for a few months when I got the first call from this number. I was expecting for it to be Marie, but it wasn’t his mother making the call, it was Evan because his cell phone had died.

He told me he couldn’t make it to our date, and the first thought I had was that he was breaking up with me. It wasn’t until he apologized that I realized it was something else.

He couldn’t hold it together on the phone. His voice shook and his sentences were short. I’ll never forget that feeling in my chest, like I knew everything was over and there was nothing I could do about it.

There was something in his voice that I recognized. It was how you sound when you’re trying to convince someone else you’re okay, but you’re not. I knew it well.

I got tired of having to convince people. People who didn’t bother to get to know me, because I was just the sad girl at the end of the block. The poor child everyone talked about.

It was why I moved to New York. Living in the small town where your family died isn’t a healthy place for someone who just wants to feel like there’s something else in this world other than the past.

But for Evan it wasn’t what had happened, it was the inevitable that brought him to his weakest moment.

I insisted on seeing him and meeting him at his parents’ place and even though I thought he’d object, he didn’t. He’d never been so passive toward anything like he was that night.

Evan’s only cried twice since I’ve known him.

That night after his mother had finally gone to bed and we went back to his childhood bedroom. And nineteen days later, when she was put in the ground.

“Henry,” I answer the phone as if nothing’s wrong. My voice is peppy and full of life, even though it’s nearly 10 p.m. and I feel nothing but dead inside.

I squint at the clock on the computer and wonder why he’s calling so late. “Is everything alright?” I ask him, my heart beating slower and a deep fear of loss settling in.

“My favorite daughter-in-law,” Henry greets me and it makes a soft smile bring the corners of my lips up. I even feel the warmth from it.

“Your only daughter-in-law,” I correct him, picking at a bit of fuzz on the sleeve of my shirt.

“Still my favorite,” he says and I give him the laugh that he’s after, even if it is a little short and quiet.

“What’s going on?” I ask him and rest my elbow on the desk, chin in my hand. I absently minimize the document on my screen and clear out all my tabs, checking my email one last time as Henry talks.

“I just wanted to check on you, make sure everything’s good.”

Again, I get the sense that something’s off. “That’s sweet of you,” I answer him but before I can say everything’s fine, he beats me to the real reason he called.

“You two alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I lie and instantly feel like shit. But what am I going to tell him? That right now, I don’t know if my marriage to his son will last? That I’m falling apart and I have no idea how to make this better? That his son is a liar and I hate him for the pain he’s putting me through?

“I spoke to Evan and he said he’s not sure about the holidays coming up,” Henry says as if he’s baiting me. And he is.

The screen of my laptop dims, ridding the room of any light so I hit the space bar and bring it back to life.

“It’s a bit away, but,” I pause and swallow, not knowing how to word it. I don’t have family, so it’s not as if I can use them as an excuse. “Work may be a little much,” I finally breathe the words slowly, giving him a lie I’m sure he knows is exactly that.

“He said you’re going through something.” There’s no bullshit in his voice as he adds, “That you two aren’t doing the best.”

“Did he?” I ask weakly. It’s a betrayal. That’s how I feel hearing that Evan’s told his father what we’re going through. It makes the crack in my heart that much deeper.

It’s not fair that he welcomes so much attention. I don’t need the judgment. Because I don’t want their opinions. I don’t want them to know we’re flawed. I just want us whole again. I wish no one knew so I could silently be the weak wife I am. The one willing to turn a blind eye for the unfaithful man she loves more than herself.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Henry,” I tell him as my eyes close. I can tell the computer has gone into sleep mode again and this time I don’t hit the keys to bring it back to life. The darkness is too comforting.

“I just want you to know I’m here for you,” Henry says clearly into the phone. “You’re my daughter,” he adds and it breaks my composure.

I push away from the desk, the chair legs catching on the rug and nearly tipping over. I walk slowly to the door and then to my bedroom, the phone still to my ear, each step trying to keep it all down. Just going through the motions and trying to be numb to it.

“Thank you,” I tell him, breathing the words as I lean against the bedroom door, closing it and almost tell him, he’s like a father to me.

Almost, but when we do get a divorce, Henry won’t be there for me. It doesn’t matter what he says. It doesn’t matter that I’ll be alone, because that’s how I’ve been most of my life anyway.

“I love you and I’m sorry you two are going through this.” I let Henry’s words echo in my head.

He’s not the only one who’s sorry.