Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“What do you want to do?”
“There’s a part of me that wants to run away. I want to hide my head in the sand and pretend like none of this ever happened.”
Baptist is quiet for a moment. “You want to abandon Pride? And Ansell?”
“I don’t want to abandon anyone, it’s just that—”
“If you run now, that’s what you’d be doing. I don’t know what you were thinking when you got involved with Ansell, but whatever’s happening with him is very real. That man is experiencing something he’s never gone through before and I think he’s having a really hard time. He needs you, Marie.”
I close my eyes. Tears run down my cheeks and I nod. “I need him too.”
“Then go talk to him. I know he wants to see you.”
“He’s not angry?”
“Confused, I think. Angry with me. He’s not sure why you’d assume the worst about him.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Tell him that. He cares about you, Marie. And it’s obvious you care about him, too.”
“I really do.”
“Then talk to him. Work it out. Hell, maybe you two crazy kids can be happy together.”
“Not if the Crawfords have anything to do with it.”
He laughs and takes out his phone. “I’ll tell Ansell you’re on the way. Should he send a car?”
“Tell it to meet me out front. Do you mind if I finish walking around alone?”
“Not at all.” He hesitates and smiles. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I never really thought about you when I started following William and gathering proof of his infidelity. I knew you’d be unhappy about it, but I guess I never imagined it would hurt you so badly.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you did it. William would’ve kept on cheating our entire marriage and it would’ve been hell. I’m happy you sent that email even if it hurt.”
“Happy to be of service then.” He flashes me another grin before raising the phone to his ear. “Good luck, Marie. I’m rooting for you both.”
“Thanks, Baptist.”
As he makes the call, I turn and walk off, strolling slowly and watching the ground, trying to think of what I’m going to say to Ansell to try to make everything okay again, even if it feels like I’m at my lowest.
Chapter 27
Marie
I expected a big, black SUV to roll up and whisk me away to Ansell’s apartment. Instead, Ansell himself rolls down the window, sitting behind the driver’s seat.
“You look like you need a ride,” he says and smiles.
I open my mouth to say something—but can’t find the words.
He’s smiling at me.
Not some micro-expression. Not some tiny, quickly there-then-not emotional gesture, but an actual, honest smile. He’s grinning like he’s the happiest man alive and I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. That’s Ansell, and he’s showing actual emotion, and I don’t know how to process it at all.
“Get in,” he says, waving me on, and that breaks my spell.
I climb into the passenger side and he drives off. “Thanks for coming to get me, but you could’ve sent someone else, you know.”
He shakes his head, still smiling slightly. He looks ten years younger with that constant frown.
“I needed to do this myself.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
I chew my lip. “Ansell, I talked to Baptist—”
“Wait. Just wait. We can talk about everything soon, but first, let’s sit in silence for a little while, okay? I want you to see this place first, then we’ll talk. Can we do that?”
I want to argue. I want to apologize and beg for his forgiveness. I want him to understand how wrong I was about him and how awful I feel, and how I was at my worst but that doesn’t excuse anything, and how I don’t deserve him or anything at all, how I deserve to be miserable forever, but instead I only nod once. If he wants to do it this way, we’ll do it this way, I owe him that much at least.
We leave the city. He drives along, skirting the Schuylkill along a major highway, before cutting back onto the Turnpike. We take that east and get off at a suburb about twenty minutes outside of the city, a little place called Ardsley.
It’s a cute area. Small houses packed close together. Tiny yards, most of them well kept, some of them crumbling. He leads me through a meandering neighborhood, densely packed, the structures built practically on top of each other and all of them different. He reaches a dead end that juts up against a wooded area and slows to a stop outside of a single-family home with a white stucco front and red shutters.
“I grew up in this house,” he says softly and I stare at him in surprise. He never talks about his past, not once since I met him, even though I’ve asked questions. All he ever said was he had a hard upbringing and prefers not to remember it.