Joseph gives me a leave of absence, and Gabriel and I are never without one another. Each second takes on water, until it’s bursting. And here we are, squeezing from it every last drop.
I’ve always lovedGabriel’s voice. Deep, clear, confident, a voice that is strong enough to know you’re safe with him, with corners rounded enough to know he is also kind.
Today is the first day I do not like my husband’s voice.
“How do you plead?”
“Guilty.”
The word reverberates in my bones.
Guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty.
CHAPTER 25
Gabriel has been gonefor a month.Gone. That’s what I’m calling it.
I, too, amgone. Not an ounce of energy for my old life lives in my body now. Every call from Sabrina goes to voicemail. She's pregnant with her first, and I want no part of it.
Is this selfish? Absolutely. Sabrina has been my closest friend for years. She was in my wedding party. But the last time we spoke, the day after Gabriel went to prison, was like taking the knife in my heart and twisting. Not that she meant to. I'd been silent on my end of the line, with nothing to say that wasn't sad. Sabrina filled the quiet with chatter about her pregnancy. I think she asked me to be in the delivery room, but I'm not certain. I'd been living outside my body that day.
I still am. Soon, Sabrina will stop calling. She's in the happiest time of her life, and I'm in the worst. For her sake, I'm letting her be. I refuse to be an Aunt Francesca to Sabrina.
And so, I sit in my dark living room on a Friday evening, my curtains drawn to keep out the sunset. I don’t want a shred of beauty around me.
“Avery?”
The closed front door muffles my sister’s voice. A normal person would take a closed front door and unanswered knock to mean nobody is home. Not Camryn. She knows I’m here, sad and pathetic and sitting in the dark.
I know what’s coming next.
Yep, there it is. The sound of a key in a lock. The metallic click, the bolt sliding. Door opening.
Camryn’s eyes zero in on mine. The glow from the phone gives away my location. I stay perfectly still, my finger poised above my screen.
Cam sits beside me. “Dad said he’s called you three times this week.” She tugs the blanket from my lap, draping it across her own until we’re sharing it.
I don’t respond. What’s there to say? Just like with Sabrina, I haven’t answered his calls because I don’t want to talk.
“Who’s that?” Cam asks, pointing at the smiling blonde woman on the screen, standing beside an equally blonde and grinning man.
“Someone from high school.” My upper lip curls at the seemingly happy photo posted three days ago.
“You’re into torture now? Is that it?” Cam snuggles deeper.
“My existence is torture.”
“Melodramatic.” She sighs the word.
“I know. I just… I can’t seem to stop.” I’m sad all the time. Even when I don’t appear sad, it’s because I’m pretending. “Look at this caption. It’s their anniversary. She writes ‘So lucky to be doing life with you.’” I make a face. “What is that? What is ‘doing life’?”
“Pretty sure you’ve used that exact caption,” my sister says, but I ignore her because I’m in no mood to be reminded that I used to be as enamored with my life.
I scroll further. “And this one. What about them?” A girl I knew in college is beaming, radiant on her wedding day. “Shegoes on and on about how perfect her new husband is.” I flick the screen with my middle finger. “No shit he’s perfect, it’s your wedding day. Just wait.” I glower at the glowing bride. “Just. You. Wait.”
