She sighed. Long and defeated. “Please listen. I don’t know how I haven’t been clear enough with you. But I’m moving out when the money comes. I’m not going to unpack boxes and get all cozy and tucked in, when I know we are leaving.” Her shoulders were rigid. She held her chin high. But her voice trembled. “Then I’ll see an attorney. I’m not going to consider this”—she wagged a finger between the two of us—“real because we have butterflies.”
“I’m not wearing a ring because I have butterflies.”
“Aren’t you though? We are attracted to each other so let’s throw caution to the wind and make all the same mistakes on repeat, right?”
I sat up and placed my elbows on my knees, getting riled. “I have no intention of making all the same mistakes.”
“Well, for me, the mistake is trusting—” She waved a hand. “Forget it.”
“No, finish what you were going to say.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How you feel absolutely matters.” I sat silently waiting for her to finish.
She looked at me and blinked a few times. Silence swelled between us like a balloon. Until the pressure popped. She made a choking noise as she sniffed. Then the tears came. Uninvited and breaking the dam. She covered her face with a hand, and spoke between stifled sobs. “Sorry—Jack. I need to go to—bed.” She stood to go. “But you should—take the ring off, okay?”
She moved around the couch and I jumped up and grabbed her hand. “You’renotleaving like that.”
She resisted my leading her back to the couch, trying to pull her hand back, but I persisted. Wrapping my hands around hers and finally settling her back down on the couch right next to me this time. She did her best to hold herself together, but failed. The tears came, whether she liked it or not. She said, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this.”
She apologized like four times as she pushed back under the onslaught. I held her hand. Helpless to do much else. Her battle against her emotions was an attempt to protectme,and I didn’t know what to do with that exactly.
The truth hit me in the gut like a punch.
I’d made her feel like she wasn’t acceptable this way. Hadn’t I?
Just like Dad did to me.
My fingers squeezed hers.
My voice cracked, gravelly, like I hadn’t used it in years. “Miranda, you can cry for a little bit if you need to.”
She tsked and rolled her eyes to the side. She didn’t say the words, but her response saidyeah right.
When she calmed, I said, “I want you to tell me what you were going to say earlier. You said ‘for me, the mistake is trusting’ then you stopped.”
Her cheeks bunched as she swallowed. Something about her in white. She was gorgeous. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and smelled so good. It caught the distant light from the foyer lamp, almost glistened like gold.
I whispered, withdrawing my hand to give her a little space. “What you were about to say is the reason a marriage I want is going to end. Please tell me.”
She shrugged. “Just trusting people is all. I trust too easily and get hurt.”
“What do you mean? You’re saying that like there’s more to that statement than just me.”
Pat’s words reverberated in my brain.Just because you have all the clues doesn’t mean you’ve solved the mystery.
The woman before me had lived an entire lifetime prior to our paths ever crossing. What she meant was important, pivotal. I’m definitely not the smartest guy, but I had a sharp ear and was a quick learner. I wasgoingto solve her.
She drew air through her nose and let it out, puffing her cheeks. “The people who say they are there, aren’t. And no, I don’t just mean you. The mistake I make is thinking that people actually care about anyone other than themselves. I’ve been pushed aside more times than I can count.”
I wished I knew what she meant. She’d said her dad left when she was a kid. But it seemed bigger than that. “Are you talking about your dad?”
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure I have it sorted in my own head.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m really tired.” She stood. “Think I’d rather just go to bed right now then dive into all this.”
