When she turns to face me, she sees the papers in my hand. “Silas.”
She doesn’t look guilty, but she does look wary. “You went through my box?”
“I did.” I drop the papers on the bed. “Your hat was getting bent, so I pulled it out so it didn’t get ruined. But then I saw the wordsArbuckle Annulmenton the outside of the envelope, and … I don’t know … I wanted to see why my wife had annulment papers. And I gotta say, I’m surprised.”
“Silas, it’s not like that. I didn’t do anything. My dad brought them today.”
“Your dad?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, my dad. He had mentioned it on the plane ride home from Vegas, and I kind of forgot about it, honestly.”
“How could you forget that your dad wanted to help us dissolve our marriage?” My brows rise, and I hold out my hands.
“Forgotisn’t the right word.” She shakes her head.
“Have you told him how you feel about me? Does he know you agreed to give this until the draft before any decisions were made?”
“Me caring about you has never been in question. Why areyou acting like this? This”—she holds up the papers—“doesn’t mean I want to sign them.”
“Maybe not, but why did you take them? You could have had him take them back with him if it wasn’t something you were considering.”
“I’m not! Silas, I hope you know that none of this has anything to do with what he thinks of you. He’s just worried. He’s being a dad. Us getting married, you have to admit, was really out of character for me. I’m not that person. I’m not the girl who throws caution to the wind and gets married in Vegas. So, I get why he would be worried about it. Don’t you?”
Logically, yes. But I’m trying to process all of this.
“So then, why did you marry me?” I take off my glasses and set them on the dresser.
“I don’t know!” she yells.
We stare at each other silently, and I watch her chest rise and fall.
“Silas, I’ve spent my entire life doing everything so fucking carefully so I stayed in the shadows. The guilt that I carry over the abuse Beck suffered because of me is suffocating. I’ve gotten really good at bottling my emotions and putting on a happy face so that neither of them worries about me because they’ve been protecting me from the ugly parts of our lives since I was little. So, neither of them saw how all of our trauma was eatingmeup inside. They have no idea about my panic attacks. They don’t know that the thought of disappointing either of them is crippling to me.” She crumples to the bed. Her head in her hands.
“I wanted a night that I could just be someone else. Hell, my own therapist and my brother both told me to let loose in Vegas, and for a minute, as I watched that newlywed couple walk off the Ferris wheel before we did, I thought,I want that. I want that kind of bliss, even if it’s for one night.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry you got swept up in it. I would never want to hurt you.”
“Do you care about me, or was I just a body? Could it havebeen someone else you saidI dowith?” My heart stutters at the thought.
She shakes her head and stands. “No, I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone else. And, yes, of course I care about you. I did then, and I do even more now.” She tries to take my hand, but I pull away. “Silas,” she chokes on a sob.
“Brooke, when you said, ‘Let’s get married,’ I didn’t expect for us to be where we are now. I knew I had feelings for you. I knew I wanted to have you in my life as more than just my friend. And maybe it was on the fly for me, too, but selfishly, I saw it as an opportunity to see if you could feel the same about me as I did you. But if you’re truly considering this, then I just …” I place both hands on the top of my head, pacing. “We’re not playing house, Brooke. I want to be the first thing you touch in the morning and the last thing you taste at night. This is very real for me. And I thought it was for you too.”
“It’s real to me too. Can we just forget this for now? We both have a lot going on, and as I explained to my dad, it’s not something I’m considering. Let’s just focus on school and you getting ready for the draft.”
“I think … I just need to think about all of this. It took me off guard because I hadn’t even realized this was an actual conversation you had with your dad.”
“It was on the plane on the way home. We haven’t talked about it since then until today. This wasn’t my doing.” She cries.
I can’t stand to see her like this, but I’m hurt. And maybe feel a little betrayed that she had talked to her dad about this and didn’t mention it to me before now. And I might still not know if I hadn’t seen those papers.
All of it—the ache in my chest, the way my lungs locked up the second I saw those papers—just proves how far gone I am.
I don’t panic like that. I don’t lose my breath overpaper. And yet the idea of this ending, of her choosing to walk away, hit me so hard it felt physical. Like something vital was being pulled out of me without warning.
Which means I’m in deeper than I ever let myself believe.
I’m in love with her. Completely. In a way that doesn’t ask permission or wait for good timing. In a way that’s settled itself into my bones without me noticing.
So in love that if she decides this is over—if she signs those papers and ends it—something in me is going to break.
