Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“I still don’t understand.”
As I open the door, I glance over my shoulder and offer her a painful smile and slight shrug. “It’s no longer my story to tell. It never really was. Please give my sincerest apologies to Aaron and Danni.”
When my ride arrives, I have no choice but to return to Zach's house. My stuff is there. My passport. My cat.
A haunting silence greets me when I open the door and slip off my heels. I swallow my fear and deflated pride while dragging my feet to his bedroom. My shaky hand wraps around the handle to push it down, but it won’t budge.
He’s locked me out.
Making a fist, I lift it to knock, but I stop short. My fingers uncurl, and I rest my palm on the door, closing my eyes. What have I done?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again before retreating to my bedroom. I don’t have the energy to remove my makeup or put on a nightshirt. I manage to get out of my dress and crawl into bed in my bra and panties. My arms hug a pillow to my body, and my tears eventually dry.
My mind settles.
And I fall asleep.
The next morning, the high-pitch churning of the coffee grinder brings me out of my coma of regret. Before I can make the walk of shame, I shower and slip into jeans and a tee. Hair wet. Eyes still a little red and swollen. As much as I wish I could teleport myself to literally anywhere else in the world, I can’t. So I pad my way to the kitchen.
Zach doesn’t look up from his plate or his phone next to it. He keeps one hand curled around his coffee mug, slowly bringing it to his lips like I’m not in the room. I pour myself a cup of coffee and ease into the seat next to him. Still, he acts like I’m not here.
“I think …” I press my lips together and carefully weigh my words. “I think I wanted to be your real wife. And yesterday you made me feel like a nobody after you made me feel … well, like somebody to you. You actually took a step away from me to announce your widower status. And when I tried to hold your hand, you shoved it into your pocket.”
I ease my head back and forth. “I can’t be intimate with you and be a nobody. Maybe I thought I could, but I can’t.” I cup my coffee mug with both hands and stare at the black water instead of waiting for him to look at me. “My mother never married. She never demanded someone be accountable to her for more than one night. She never dared to dream big, to feel like she deserved a place in this world where she truly belonged, where she felt security and unconditional love.
“My whole life I’ve dreamed of love, even when I didn’t know what that meant. I think I’ve wanted it more than absolutely anything else. I’ve dreamed about beautiful weddings, first houses, and the pitter patter of tiny feet. The dream. I’ve dreamed about … the dream.
“Instead, I got a courthouse marriage, a loveless marriage, cheap airfare, health insurance, and a Get Out of Debt Free card. And if I sound ungrateful, I’m not. I’m really, really not. I’m truly sorry for the mess I’ve caused with your family and for acting so impulsive at Aaron and Danielle’s wedding. I’m not proud of what happened, and I would take it all back if I could. But I’m not upset that the truth is out. Even if I don’t really know anymore what the truth is between us.”
Still, nothing from him.
“I’m sure you’re silently counting down the minutes until I’m gone.” I quickly wipe away a tear.
This is a whole new level of ghosting. I’ve never had someone do it to me in person … while we’re in the same room.
The muscles in his jaw flex, hard and unforgiving. There’s an earthquake of tension rolling off his body, leaving a mark on my heart with aftershocks I will feel for a long time. He takes his plate and coffee mug to the sink, letting them drop in the basin with a crash as he drops his chin to his chest.
“I don’t know when you think you fell in love with me, but I didn’t suggest the marriage for any other reason than helping you. We crossed a line, and I thought I was in control. I thought I was prepared to deal with the ramifications of crossing that line, but I wasn’t. I’m not. I’m …” He rubs his temples. “Fuck, I … I don’t even know right now. This is on me, not you. I will deal with the mess. I didn’t think our marriage would be anything more than a benefit to you.”