There is quiet for a bit, me just trying to tread carefully in what I say next.
“I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me," I tell him, watching his face carefully. He nods.
"Are you still, at this moment, in love with her?"
He takes a deep breath, looking over at me, though his eyes seem to drift past me, as if searching for an answer somewhere on the wall.
"Why would you ask me that?" he responds, instantly defensive.
"I'm just curious. Whatever is said in this room, it stays in this room, Lincoln. I care about you deeply. I just want you to be okay, and I want you to be honest with yourself."
"Ofcourse, I'm in love with her."
Something tells me he's not being honest.
"Are you sure, or are you just loving her because you feel an obligation to stay with her?"
"Sarah, I'm married. Whatever it is you're trying to do—"
"No. Please. You're misunderstanding what I'm doing," I cut in softly. "Look… I've known people, you know, even my parents, working through their stuff, that felt as though they needed to be in some kind of long standing commitment to make each other happy rather than define their own happiness."
"And I suppose there's nothing in it for you whatsoever," he challenges, narrowing his eyes.
"I wanna see you happy. And ifyou'rehappy, our job flows better."
"And you think if I were to divorce my wife right now, that would make our jobeasier?"
"I never said anything about divorcing your wife, Lincoln. I don't know why you took it there."
"I didn't take it anywhere thatyouweren't already taking it."
"Lincoln, I'm just saying."
"I'mperfectlyhappy with my wife."
"Well, you don'tlookhappy," I point out firmly and quietly. "And I'm your friend, and I'm gonna tell you the truth even when nobody else will. Maybe Gabrielle isn't being truthful with you, butI'mbeing truthful with you. And the longer the both of you sit here either not addressing your problems, or sticking together out of some kind of weird duty, the more it's gonna weigh down on you, and it's not fair to her either. I think you guys should get counseling or at least be honest about what the hell is going on. And maybe you don't knowhowto be honest with her. So I thought since we were good friends, you could be honest withme, but I understand."
I push myself up from the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, Lincoln looks like he doesn’t want me to leave. He stays still, watching me with that tired, conflicted expression… the same one that tells me I’m getting under his skin.
-??-
Chapter 12
Gabrielle’s POV
I’m trying not to cry. I really am. I wanna be that strong person that my mother had raised me to be. She was strong, stronger than anyone I knew. My father is a strong man too, while my mother was a logical one in the relationship. My father is strong and compassionate, not afraid to beat down anybody who would dare put their hands on any of us. But my mom, I wish I had her here right now to talk to her. Honestly, if it weren't for the pictures I have of her, I'm embarrassed to say I would have forgotten how she looked. I don't know why, but she's the person I love the most. And for the life of me, if I'm not staring at her picture, most times I can't remember her face.
I don't wanna cry.
My knees crumple the minute I step inside of our house, this cold house where Lincoln barely lives because he's always at work. This house that makes me feel so alone. It's much bigger than our apartment. My mind travels back to the past when we were just two young couple members in love, laughing and making love to each other, not a care in the world. And now it's like I don't even recognize my husband.
My heart still holds out hope that he's a good man, that he's the same man who told me that wherever we are together, wherever I am is where his home is, that he knows he can make it through anything if he has me. He said those things, and his actions had backed them up. But they certainly didn't tonight.
My heart is breaking so bad, and what makes it feel worse is that he didn't come after me. He hasn't called me to see if I got home safe. He just stayed at the dinner party with Sarah. I don't have to be there to know that he's with Sarah, because what other reason would he have for not coming home with me right away?
It's eleven o'clock at night when I hear him walk through the door. I'm angry, broken, and made up in my mind already that I'm not gonna speak with him. My back is to the door of our bedroom as I lie down on my left side, hearing his boots, his car keys that he carries around all the time, even though he barely drives the car. With the house keys and everything else on it clinks onto our dresser.
He exhales.
