Her eyes are wet, and she wipes at her cheek like she doesn’t want anyone to see.
I stand. “Al. What is it?”
She looks at me, and for a second, it feels like she might actually come to me. Fall apart in my arms and tell me everything. Like before.
But her gaze shifts to her lawyer instead. “We’ll have to reschedule. I’m flexible.”
“Is everything okay, Ms. Adams?” her lawyer asks gently, concern pulling at his features.
“I’m not really sure.”
My chest swells. My fists clench at my sides. She’s falling apart—and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
She glances at me one last time before turning back to him. “Let’s just try to get this over with as soon as possible. I’m sorry for wasting everyone’s time.”
She doesn’t wait for a response. She’s already pulling the door open.
I’m across the room before I can think. “Alley,” I call after her as she rushes down the hall.
She glances over her shoulder. “Jensen, please. We can talk later.”
“Alley, wait?—”
She reaches the elevators and stabs the down button.
“Please,” I say, softer now as I catch up. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
Her lips part, then close again. She shakes her head. “It’s my dad.”
The elevator chimes, and the doors slide open. She steps inside, turning back toward me. “We’ll reschedule,” she says, voice strained, then meets my gaze as I take a step forward. “Jensen, please… don’t follow me.”
I stop cold, chest aching to be there for her. I nod, forcing myself to stay rooted in place.
“Wait,” I say again, as I throw my arm out to stop the doors from closing.
I reach into my back pocket and pull out the folded envelope. The last letter I wrote to her. “I wanted to give this to you.” I hold it out. “I wrote it in rehab.”
Her eyes flick down to the envelope, then back up to mine.
“You don’t have to read it. But it’s yours. Just… take it.”
She hesitates, then steps forward and takes it from my hand. Doesn’t say a word. Just clutches it, eyes glossy.
The door closes.
And she’s gone.
My wife’s fucking gone again.
My eyes close. “Shit.” I back up, hands laced behind my head as I suck in a shaky breath.
God,I wanted to prove I’d changed. Instead, I just proved I could still lose her.
My arms fall to my sides, and I turn in defeat.How many times can you lose something before it’s no longer yours to lose?
I make my way back to the office, shoulders sagging. I pull out my phone and text Matt.
Hey man. I was in mediation with Alley. She had to rush out—some kind of emergency with her dad. Can you find out what’s going on?
