Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I want to argue with him, to further prove my point, but I’m getting nervous. His demeanor is bringing back every fear of him I’ve ever held. I try to defuse the situation by escaping it.
“I’m going home now.” I start to head toward the stairs, but he’s faster than me. He moves past me, and then he’s in between me and the door to the stairwell. I take a nervous step back. I slip my hand in my pocket in search of my phone in case I need to use it.
“We’re changing her middle name,” he says.
I keep my voice firm and steady when I respond. “We named her Emerson after your brother. That’s your connection to her name. Her middle name is my connection. It’s only fair. You’re reading too much into it.”
I try to sidestep around him, but he moves with me.
I glance over my shoulder to measure the distance between myself and the ledge. Not that I feel like he’d throw me over it, but I also didn’t think he’d be capable of shoving me down a flight of stairs.
“Does he know?” Ryle asks.
He doesn’t have to say Atlas’s name for me to know exactly who he’s talking about. I feel the guilt swallowing me, and I’m worried Ryle can sense it.
Atlas does know Emerson’s middle name is Dory, because I made it a point to tell him. But I honestly didn’t name my daughter for Atlas. I named her for me. Dory was my favorite character before I even knew Atlas Corrigan existed. I admired her strength, and I only named her that because strength is the one trait I hope my daughter has more than anything else.
But Ryle’s reaction is making me want to apologize, because Finding Nemo does mean something to both Atlas and me, and I knew it when I ran after Atlas on the street to tell him about her middle name.
Maybe Ryle deserves to be angry.
Therein lies our issue, though. Ryle can be angry, but that doesn’t mean I deserve everything that accompanies his anger. I’m falling back into that same trap of forgetting that nothing I could do would warrant his extreme past reactions.
I may not be perfect, but I don’t deserve to fear for my life every time I make a mistake. And this may have been a mistake that deserves more discussion, but I don’t feel comfortable having a conversation about it with Ryle on a rooftop without witnesses.
“You’re making me nervous. Can we please go back downstairs?”
Ryle’s entire demeanor changes as soon as I say that. It’s like he punctures against the sharp insult. “Lily, come on.” He moves away from the door and walks all the way to the other side of the balcony. “We’re arguing. People argue. Christ.” He spins away from me, giving me his back now.
Here comes the gaslighting. He’s attempting to make me feel crazy for being scared, even though my fear is more than warranted. I stare at him for a moment, wondering if the argument is over or if he has more to say. I want it to be over, so I open the door to the stairwell.
“Lily, wait.”
I pause because his voice is much calmer, which leads me to believe he might be capable of a verbal disagreement rather than an explosive fight tonight. He walks back over to me with a pained expression. “I’m sorry. You know how I feel about anything related to him.”
I do know, which is precisely why I’ve had such conflicting feelings about Atlas potentially being a part of my life again. The simple idea of having to confront Ryle with that information makes me want to vomit. Especially now.
“It upset me to find out that our daughter’s middle name might have been something you chose to deliberately hurt me. You can’t expect something like that not to affect me.”
I lean against the wall and fold my arms over my chest. “It had nothing to do with you or Atlas and everything to do with me. I swear.” Just mentioning Atlas’s name out loud seems to get it stuck in the air between us, like it’s a tangible thing Ryle can reach out and punch.
Ryle nods once with a tight expression, but it appears that he accepts that answer. I honestly don’t know if he should. Maybe I did do it subconsciously to hurt him. I don’t even know at this point. His anger is making me question my intentions.
This all feels so grossly familiar.
We’re both quiet for a while. I just want to go to Emerson, but Ryle seems to have more to say, because he moves closer, placing a hand on the wall beside my head. I’m relieved that he doesn’t look angry anymore, but I’m not sure I like the look in his eye that has replaced the anger. It’s not the first time he’s looked at me this way since our separation.