“-Was that the first time?” I cut in.
“That was the first time we had sex. But the first time I kissed her was before that.”
I sway, almost fainting. “That night you came home—” my breath comes out hoarse. “When you came home really late and you said Tom dropped you home… was it really Tom that was with you?”
“Yes. But I was late because… I was with Sarah.”
“Why.”
“We had a little bit to drink and… she made out with me. I made out… I made out with her,” his voice breaks, his face crumples, his head bowing to the ground.
Lincoln sobs quietly, looking like someone just kicked him in the stomach.
“So you stood there and lied to me.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you. It didn’t mean anything and it was an accident, so I didn’t want to… I didn’t think it was… I… I didn’t want to blow up our marriage because of something stupid.”
“If I had done that with a co-worker who you knew liked me, would you have wanted me to tell you?” I challenge him.
“I mean… it’s not something I want to know, but yes, I would…” he chokes, swallowing loudly. “I would want you to be honest with me.”
Tears spill from his eyes as they land on me.
“But you thought that I’m not owed that courtesy, right?” I tremble.
“You are owedsomuch more.”
“Clearly not, Lincoln. Do you love her?”
It makes me feel a lot better when he instantly shakes his head and vehemently says, “No. For everything that happened, I cansay that with confidence and with truth. I do not love her. I honestly don’t even like her at this point.”
“Give it time. You’ll be all right,” I say, gathering myself and regaining my composure before taking my luggage.
At the top of the stairs, I watch him swallow hard before he finally speaks again. His voice is quieter than before, almost hollow.
“Gabby… I wish you the best in life. I really do. And I’m sorry, even though I know my apology doesn’t mean anything. You’re out of my league. You always were. I hope you’ll find happiness, and I hope what I did to you doesn’t… keep you from it in the future.”
The words sting, not because they’re cruel, but because they’re true in the worst way. He steps aside so I can pass, and I make my way slowly down the stairs, dragging my luggage as the wheels thump against each step. He follows behind me like a shadow.
At the bottom, when he opens the front door for me, his hand brushes the small of my back. The touch is light, barely anything, but he jerks his hand away immediately, almost like it’s blasphemy to lay a finger on me.
“I know this is a lot to ask but… and if you don’t want to you don’t have to.” His voice breaks, barely holding itself together. “But could… can I hug you one last time?”
The look on his face is devastating. Sadness, regret, longing: every emotion I wish I could unsee. And God help me,everything in me wants to give him that hug. For him. And for me. I want to hold him. I want to feel him around me again, even for one second.
But that would destroy me.
I plaster a sad smile on my face, something soft to ease the blow, something that makes him think I might say yes.
“No,” I breathe out.
Then I turn on my heels before I can change my mind.
Walking toward the rental car, I can see from my periphery the way his head drops, his shoulders sinking under the weight of everything he’s done. The porch light behind him spills out onto the sidewalk, casting him in a pale glow while the rest of the world is darkness.
Keep it together.
Do not cry in front of him.
