So yeah. Truckloads of truth.
The clacking of Paola’s keyboard is like the sound of someone hitting a button that releases more and more anxiety into my system. I wipe my clammy hands on my thighs. I feel like a mouse trapped in a maze it can never escape.Two years,I tell myself.Two years, and I’ll be fine.
I glance at Bryce as he checks the information on the marriage license to make sure everything is proper. How does he really feel about all this?
He has to hate me, but there are times he does or says things that make me think that perhaps he doesn’ttrulyhate me. And that’s what makes him so dangerous. With other people, their regard for me is crystal clear. I don’t have to second-guess myself, and they also don’t make me think that there could bemore. But if I start to believe thatwith Bryce, he’ll break my heart, and I can’t let him. If I have my heart shattered again, I’ll never recover.
It took me so long to piece my life together, to heal my emotional wounds. I even went to a place where nobody knew me so that I could really start fresh. Despite the loneliness, it worked. I never let anybody become too important, so no one would have too much power over my emotional wellbeing. Nobody is allowed to do what Jude did to me.
“Judge Mansfield is available if you don’t have anyone else in mind and want to get everything done today and hold the ceremony later,” Paola says. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to marry you.”
My smile hurts my cheeks. “That’s wonderful. You’re such a gem.”
“Not at all. I’m so happy for you guys. This is one of the most exciting things that’s happened since I started working here.”
“Really?” You’d think a clerk’s office would have more interesting gossip than a couple getting married.
“Yeah, there’s a betting pool for which Huxley twin is getting married first, andIwon.” She twists a little in a restrained dance.
“Am I going to get a share of that?” Bryce asks, leaning against the counter.
“No, but I’ll buy you a drink.” She taps the back of his hand, then winks. My chest suddenly feels uncomfortable, like I’m having heartburn.
Not even glancing at me, Bryce laughs, which intensifies the acidic feeling. “Deal. I’ll take you up on that one of these days.”
“Hey, you know my number.”
I start walking away—I’ve seen enough. Bryce says bye and catches up to me with wide-legged strides.
“Are you jealous?” he asks, a smirk in his voice.
I look straight ahead, maintaining the same pace. “No.” It’d be absurd to admit it. Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean we have any claim over each other. Our relationship is worse than just dating. At least with dating, you don’t have a set end date. This marriage is doomed to end in two years from now.
“As fun as it is to see you worked up, don’t worry. She doesn’t like me that way.”
I give him a look.
“It’s true. She’s dating a hockey player. But even if she weren’t, I wouldn’t cheat on my partner. It’d be disrespectful.” He holds my eyes. “And hurtful.”
It’s as though he’s daring me to explain why I did what I did to him back then. Although intellectually I understand that I was a victim too, deep in my heart, there’s shame. Shame that I didn’t know better, that I wasn’t more careful, that if I had been smarter, I would’ve been able to stop Jude.
I opt for something I should’ve said before leaving for Wisconsin. “Bryce, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”
He takes half a step back and stares. And it hits me—I’ve never apologized to him for what happened, ever. We never got a chance, especially after Bryce said I was dead to him. But I should’ve made more of an effort. If I had, we might’ve been able to get some sort of closure, let go and move on—a much healthier outcome than what actually happened. “I should’ve said it before I left for Wisconsin. It was thoughtless of me. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses, but at the time, I just had to leave as quickly as I could without really talking to anybody.”
He gives me a long look. “Why? What happened?”
His expression is soft and gentle, like that of a man who’s willing to listen and forgive. I’m tempted to break down and unload everything. However, the years-old shame claws the churning words back down from my lips. I choose my response with care. “I…needed a new beginning. Wisconsin felt like the perfect place, far away from L.A. and…from the people I knew. Contrary to what you might’ve thought, my relationship with Jude was awful. Just terrible. And my biggest regret was hurting you. You were so good to me. You deserved the very best of everything.” I manage a smile, but from his taut face, I know it’s not a very good one.
Several beats pass, the entire courthouse seemingly frozen.It’s too late. Too little, too late.
Finally, I say, “Why don’t we just go see the judge?” It comes out as a croak.
Bryce gazes at me for a moment, then gives a curt nod. “Okay.”
* **
Judge Mansfield is an older gentleman, hair gray with lots of wrinkles stretching over his face. Maybe in his early sixties, he’s in a white button-down shirt and slacks with a brown knit vest. A plate of half-eaten sugar cookies is next to him, crumbs covering the desk.
