"I know you're probably tired of me," he goes on, "and what you needed last night was for me to be there for you despite everything going on, to make you feel like my priority. You are my priority, Gabby. I'm sorry that I made you doubt that last night and all the other times I've done that. There are better ways I could have handled the situation and… I failed badly."
He is saying all the things I know he thinks I want to hear.
It all feels performative, even though his eyes look sincere.
What I want is the truth.
He’s still holding my hands. His gaze drifts down toward the table, then somewhere far away.
"I know you asked me if I'm happy with you," he starts softly, "and… I think for this to work, we have to be completely honest with each other."
For some reason, the way he’s talking, it doesn’t even sound like him.
I wait.
I wait fortwo long, heavy minutesuntil he finally meets my eyes again.
"I still love you but… some of that happiness we had at the early stage of our relationship, it feels like it's… I don’t know." He swallows. "Like a bulb flickering. The light is still there, but it feels like it's not screwed in all the way. That’s the best way I can describe it. I would move Heaven and Earth for you…"
"You can move Heaven and Earth for me," I finally reply, the pain in my words surfacing, "but you can’t send me a simple text or give me a call to let me know you're going to be home late?"
He closes his eyes slowly and nods.
"I deserve that."
"Especially since you used to do that in the beginning."
"I know. We weren't in the testing room as much, but that's not an excuse," he admits. "If it's something that’s going to makeyou happy, I should try my best to find a way to compromise with you. I got defensive because I don’t like admitting when I fail. I’m so busy trying to show up for Helion that I put my relationship on the back burner. Honestly, I thought we were good. I thought everything was okay, that you'd just be waiting for me at home when I got back, forgetting that you have needs too, that you want to feel wanted. And yes, if you were out doing that…"
He hesitates. "I would feel jealous or neglected. So I understand. And I'm sorry."
I want to cry so bad, but I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
"Right now it feels like we're enemies, Link," I tell him. "I feel like I don't know you at all. What happened last night just proved to me that I'm not your priority, your job, your coworkers, your assistant clearly are."
"That's not true."
"Yes, it 100%is. Let’s be honest like you say. If your wife is distressed during a fight and she leaves, and you choose to stay with your coworkers and yourassistant—" I emphasize the word, "... the very woman who you admitted had the hots for you and probablystilldoes, the one you spent most of the night with… that means your priorities don’t involve your marriage. Or else you wouldn’t have let me walk out that door feeling the way I did. And you wouldn’t have avoided texting or calling to see if I got home safe like you always used to."
My voice cracks despite my effort to hold it in.
Lincoln grips my hands tighter. I slide them out of his grasp.
Standing, I sniffle, covering my face before letting my hands drop.
"Last night… is the first time in our entire time knowing each other… that I ever felt like I want to just get away from you and never come back."
I don’t need to look at him to tell that I’ve hurt him deeply, but I need him to know the truth and understand exactly how he’s made me feel. Mechanically, my feet take me to the sink and I start cleaning. I feel drained, like I have no more fight left. If he were to walk out of the house right now and never come back I wouldn’t care. That’s honestly how I feel right now. Mentally checked out, like I need to prepare for just that outcome.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, circling my waist. One of them takes the plate out of my hand. Hot breath is on the back of my neck. Lincoln’s forehead rests on my shoulder.
“I'm so sorry,” his whisper comes out like a soft little singsong. It makes me want to melt into him, especially with his dick pressing up against me from behind.
He humps there softly. “I'm so sorry,” he whispers again, kissing the back of my neck almost as though he’s begging for my forgiveness with his kisses, with his sultry voice. The depth of it, the way he whispers…
I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand the way it makes me weak.
