I knew Brian and Chris would be here to watch the games, as it had been our tradition.
I had been avoidingHauntssince that night, but I've grownquite used to—and now feel that I deserve—the gawking. It's not going to get better by hiding out. If I want to prove I'm changing, I have to stand in it and show people I'm taking accountability.
It's the right thing to do, no matter how much it sucks.
Maude opens her mouth, and she's a lawyer, so I can't let her take the lead because she'll chew me up and spit me out before I say what I need to say.
I'm not seeking absolution, but I am looking to do right.
"I'm sorry," I say immediately, "I'm so fucking sorry. It was not fair to you guys to put you in the position I did. Acting like everything was fucking normal while bringing her to our hangout, like she was just a stand-in for Sophie. The audacity of thinking you wouldn't question it, that you would just welcome it. I could make a million excuses, and none of them would mean jack shit."
Brian and Chris share a look; Adriana's concerned eyes soften, but Maude's stone-cold mask doesn't budge.
"I cheated on Sophie. I made that choice, and I regret it more than I've..." my voice breaks in half, and I swallow hard, feeling like I'm swallowing glass as I get the rest of the words out. "More than I've ever regretted anything. I was a coward and cruel, and my betrayal will haunt me for the rest of my life. I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want to treat anyone like that ever again."
Brian's lips twitch slightly. Chris pulls Adriana a little closer to his side, arm wrapping protectively around her shoulders, but his eyes lose some of their ice. Maude exhales sharply through her nose and reaches into her purse, fingers fishing for something as she mutters under her breath. She pulls out a tablet and starts tapping on it.
"I broke up with Elise," I cringe at the words, because how do you break up something that was less than nothing?
"I've blocked her completely. And I'm in therapy, I'm seeingDr. Forseti, Adriana."
Adriana smiles softly at me, something like admiration shining in her eyes, and even Chris' face softens at that. "She's really great. I've been feeling better... but I still have a long way to go."
"It's a marathon, not a sprint," Adriana reminds me, and Chris leans down to kiss her temple. She melts into him, and her eyes narrow slightly. "You seem... different."
I shrug, not really knowing if I am and not really wanting praise. Not for doing the bare minimum of trying to unfuck my life.
"I just... I needed to apologize to you," I continue. "My cheating obviously affected Sophie the most, but it affected you, too. I put you in an incredibly awkward situation. I used you as props in my little fantasy that everything was fine. And I'm sorry. Thank you for holding me accountable and not enabling my shitty, entitled, awful behavior."
"God, he's using therapy speak now," Brian mutters, but there's a ghost of a grin on his face. It breaks some of the tension, and I huff out a humorless laugh, shaking my head.
"I... I should have done it sooner," I admit, words thick. "I should have gone to therapy the second I felt that fear creeping in, instead of letting it control me. I could've untangled my shit, figured out why I was spiraling, and learned how to actually show up for Sophie the way she needed. Instead, I was an asshole and took the easier path. I chose wrong. And I'm... I'm so fucking sorry."
The words hang in the air. On the TVs behind the bar, something big happens—someone scores, I think—because the place erupts in cheers and pounding fists and whistles. At our table, everything stays still. Brian, Chris, and Adriana trade looks—a silent conversation with each other.
"Thank you for apologizing," Brian says, nodding his head."That night was... really uncomfortable for us."
Chris lifts his glass, takes a swallow, then adds, "And disappointing. We didn't think you would ever do that to her."
"Neither did I," I shrug, a bitter smile on my lips, the frustration at myself rising. I built my identity in this town as being the golden boy, a genuinely good guy like my dad, only to tear that apart with my own hands.
"Here," Maude practically tosses her tablet at me. I frown, taking it and blinking when I see a polished and professional family picture of—holy shit—Elise. She's in the center, flanked by two people who are clearly her parents. I glance back up at Maude, confused, but she just gestures to it, "Swipe through."
My finger swipes through, the next photo is another posed picture—the family in evening wear, smiling at the camera. Elise's mother is a stretched and shiny older version of her, but her father... well, what is supposed to be a dignified and proud look on his face is undercut by how dead his eyes look.
Then there's an article inThe Globe,and the world's noise fades into nothing.
"What is this?" My voice sounds far away. "How did you find this?"
As I read through the article, I feel violently ill.
Elise told me a very whitewashed version of her family's story. Loving successful parents, Ivy League, and luxury. It was alluring to hear all these stories from her. I now see that it was intentional for her to keep them polished and at a basic level.
Because the truth isugly.
Her parents' affair with each other, the betrayal of her father's ex-wife struggling with infertility—the familiarity of it is horrifying to me. Scandal and lawsuits. There's also Elise's behavior—allegations of Elise screaming at au pairs, throwing things, and verbally abusing staff. Her mother's rage. Elise's drug abuse and DUIs. Whispers about blackmail. Manipulation.Backroom deals her father brokered to keep her record clean. NDA after NDA.
Not just the article. As I continue swiping through, Maude curated actual evidence to back up these claims. Every swipe is like taking a punch to the face.
