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)
Zach lifts his head and cuts his gaze to mine, his face marred with so much agony. “The marriage …” He pauses, closing his eyes for a brief second. “It…” he shakes his head “…it was all so backward. You have been a true lifeline for me, and I think about you all the time. I also can’t reconcile the marriage and the intimacy. You are so much more than a friend, and, by law, you are my wife. But in my head, and maybe even in my heart, you are not my wife. And I’m sorry if that hurts you. I fucked up. I’ve called you my wife more than once because I’ve been trying to make sense of what we have become. I’ve tried to see where we truly fit into each other’s lives. And until I figure that out, I can’t explain it to myself, least of all my family and friends. So if you needed me to be publicly accountable for our marital status, a heads-up would have been nice.”
There are so many things I want to say to Zach. I think I’ve always had so many things I’ve wanted to say to him. The timing is never right. My heart doesn’t know how to be that brave. So I hold everything inside and let it fester until the pain is too much to bear. Maybe the words I’m getting ready to say are not the right ones; it’s highly likely they’re not, but they are the most honest ones.
“Labels shouldn’t matter. Deep down, I know this. But sometimes a label feels like validation. Validation of one’s feelings. Validation of one’s intentions. I don’t know how to love you and be married to you yet not be your wife. And that’s just my truth right now.”
Zach takes his time, proving to be the patient man I met the day he hired me. “Well …” He turns, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have a lot to figure out. We are on completely different paths in life, which makes it overwhelming to feel responsible for your future as well as mine. So after yesterday’s events, I realize the only way I can be with you right now, is if I don’t think of myself as your husband.”
Ouch …
I will feel those words for a long time, maybe forever.
Much like last night, we have another stare down. I can’t help but wonder if he’s struggling to find words or if he’s like me and struggling to find the right ones in a mess of a million desperate thoughts swirling in his head.
He seems to rest his case with an idle tongue.
And while I have so much fight left in me, the words my conscience keeps whispering are, “You don’t know how to love him without losing a piece of yourself.” That’s my reality at this time in my life.
It’s also hard not to think about Brady and how he seemed to love me (I use that word lightly) for the person he knew I could be instead of the person I was at the time. If Zach really does love me, what version does he love? Who I am or who I could be?
Love is not good at chasing expectations. It thrives on acceptance.
With a silent nod, I show my love for him, my acceptance of him and his feelings about me. And I rest my case too with an idle tongue.
“I’m going to pack.”
“Where are you going?” I see the anguish in his eyes. It says everything. Why couldn’t we have found each other at a different time, maybe in a different life?
“To New York. I booked the flight when I woke in the middle of the night. Leah could use a friend right now.”
He nods slowly, and I head to my room.
I pack.
I sit in Suzanne’s chair with her quilt hugged to my chest.
I’m not sure where Zach is right now. Maybe he left. I can’t blame him. Goodbyes suck.
A little after one o’clock, I roll my suitcase to the door and get Harry Pawter in his carrier. Just as I bring up the app to order a ride, Zach comes through the front door, pausing when he sees me and my stuff ready to go.
I offer him all I have which is a nervous, heartbreaking smile. “I was just ordering a ride.”
“I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to.”
He brushes past me to the kitchen, getting a glass of water. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”
I nod and swallow the building emotion in my throat as he gulps down the glass of water. When he sets the empty glass on the counter, his sad eyes meet my gaze.
An intense ache settles into my heart, a yearning for him to say something to make this okay—to make us okay. When he comes up empty, I let my gaze fall to the floor the way my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach with a slow, throbbing beat. Zach grabs my suitcase and my carry-on bag and lugs them to his car.