She exhales, and I can see her wanting to push me away, but I’m not going to let her. “Please, I don’t want you thinking you need to treat me differently.”
“Treat you differently. How the hell would I treat you differently?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Pity, Wilder. I don’t want your pity.”
“Good, because I’m not offering pity. But I am offering understanding. I’m offering a shoulder to cry on when you need it. I’m offering a listening ear. I’m offering you an opportunity for escapism. I’m offering a reliable friendship.”
Her lips tilt to the side, and she looks away, not saying a damn thing until she sucks in a deep breath and then mouths, “Damn it,” as she starts to cry again.
She dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clearly not wanting me to see her cry. But I don’t give a shit. I take her hand in mine, tugging her closer to me, and wrap my arm around her shoulders, bringing her into my side.
And we stay like that for I don’t know how long, her quietly crying and me holding on to her, making sure she knows she’s not alone.
I’ve never been through a hard breakup, or a divorce for that matter, but I’ve seen the toll it takes on a human when they see their loved one slowly slip away. I watched my mom go through it with my dad. Sure, it wasn’t a divorce, but as my dad became weaker, I saw the light dim in my mom’s eyes. I saw her come to the realization that the man she once loved, the man she married, was no longer the same person.
And just like I was there for my mom, I’ll be there for Scottie.
“You okay?” I ask after a few minutes.
“No,” she says, answering honestly, giving me hope that she’s going to open up.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” she says.
“I understand.” I clear my throat. “But I do want to apologize about today. I thought I was feeding off your energy, trying toshow Sanders that we’re a couple in trouble. If I’d known about the divorce, I wouldn’t have?—”
“Please don’t apologize,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t know. There’s nothing to apologize about. We actually did a good job convincing him. Maybe too good of a job.” She lets out a breath and then lifts her head up. “I think the piercings really threw him for a loop.” She chuckles, which gives me hope.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the first time he’s ever seen a couple fight about that.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” she replies.
“And I know I said it before, but I really want to reiterate—us bringing it full circle at the end with the piercings, that was poetic.”
She shakes her head in mirth. “I’ve found that I don’t want to play into your ridiculousness, but I’ll admit, that was a nice touch at the end.”
I chuckle. “See! Isn’t improv fun?”
“No. It’s stressful, and I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”
“Well, it seems like we have a hole we have to dig ourselves out of for the next seven days.”
“Yeah. Any ideas on how to do that?”
“No clue.”
She nods. “Perfect. Glad we’re being smart about this.”
“Ready for dinner?” I ask Scottie, who just slipped her shoes on.
“Yeah.” She stands and presses down her shirt. “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
“You sure?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I say. “About anything.” I look her in the eyes, but she quickly diverts her gaze as if she can’t stand to make eye contact with me. Not wanting her to brush off my comment, because I need her to know this about me, I close the space between us and then press my finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “I’m serious, Scottie. I won’t lie to you. Okay?”
