He dipped another piece of bacon into the syrup. “Already did,” he said. “I went early.”
Nodding, I swallowed the bite of pancake in my mouth and felt it stick in my throat. I needed to explain things now. I hated how the air around us felt—tense and strange, despite Matt’s seemingly fine mood. But that was exactly the problem. He wasn’t fine, couldn’t possibly be, and the fact he was working so hard at pretending broke my heart.
“Listen, Matt,” I began. He looked at me, holding the other half of the bacon strip in his hand, waiting. I looked down at my plate, hated myself for not being able to hold his gaze. “So that night at Jake’s party? I...I ran into Daniel outside the bar as I was leaving.” I was nervous, unable to cover the tremor in my voice. I still couldn’t look at Matt, was afraid of seeing his expression. “We talked for a couple of minutes and then I went home.”
Matt put the bacon down on his plate and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
I frowned. “You know? How?” I tried to remember if I’d told Jenny, or Alex, and wondered if they’d passed this information along to Matt. Maybe under the guise they were worried about my state of mind. But no, I had told only Dr. Kay. So how did Matt know?
“I saw you.” He said it nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. Then he gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, then took it all over to the sink to rinse them.
“Yousawme? Where? How?”
He dropped his plate into the sink, the silverware clanging so hard against it I thought the plate might have cracked. Then he whipped around and the look on his face slayed me. His eyes were wide, his cheeks puffed out, his hands clenched in fists even as they held on to the counter edge behind him. “I saw you, Lucy! I followed you outside because I wanted to make sure you were okay, and then...” He shook his head and then let it drop forward, his chin to his chest.
“I saw you talking to him,” he said, looking back up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I saw you laughing. Withhim.” His voice was hollow, like he’d given up.
I stood quickly, walked around the table to stand in front of him. “I didn’t plan it, Matt. It was a total fluke.” I didn’t dare touch him, though my instincts told me to. I wondered what that meant. Was it a desire to comfort Matt because he was upset and I cared about him? Or did my body, my reflexes, remember I loved him even if my mind didn’t? “Honestly, we talked for a few minutes and then I came home.”
“Did you see him again? Before last night, I mean?” he asked.
I wished I could lie, but instead I paused, and that was enough.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Matt said, now openly crying. I was both anxious at his tears and sad in a way I couldn’t quite reconcile. It was different from the grief I felt about Daniel—the realization that despite believing he was my husband, he didn’t feel that way about me anymore—but it was still intense.
“Please, Matt, can we talk about this?” I grabbed for his arms, but he shoved off the counter and away from me. Opened the dishwasher, loaded in his plate, fork and knife.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He no longer sounded angry, or hurt. He sounded indifferent and that scared the hell out of me.
“So, what now? This is it?” My breath came out in strange little gasps I was unable to control.
“This is it.” Matt left the kitchen, me right behind him.
“Matt, stop.” He didn’t, headed into the bedroom. With a frustrated sigh I followed him again, then stood with my hands on my hips, trying to quell my too-fast heartbeat. Since I’d come home from the hospital Matt had been perfect and present—kind and patient, accommodating at every turn. And so for him to give up like this terrified me, because despite how screwed up everything was with our relationship, I needed Matt. He was the anchor I would be lost without.How could I have been so stupid to not see that? To jeopardize things like this?I knew it wasn’t fair, to need him so selfishly, but it was the truth.
“Please, Matt. Stop,” I repeated.
He did, paused with his jeans and sweater in his hands, his face holding none of the warmth I was used to. “What, Lucy? What do you want from me?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I let out another frustrated sigh. He shook his head and started to put his jeans on. “I’m going to work,” he said. “Then I’ll pack up some stuff when I’m back.” He pulled his sweater over his head, grabbed his phone from the nightstand.
“Pack up some stuff? You’re leaving?” My voice was thin and high-pitched. I was untethered and coming apart fast. “Shouldn’t I be the one to leave?”
He ignored my question, and my reaction. “We’ll talk later.” Then he left me standing in the bedroom, staring at the empty spot where he had stood a few moments earlier.
A minute later the front door closed with a resounding click, and I sat down hard on the floor and tried to figure out what I was supposed to do now.
* * *
I had my legs tucked up under me on Jenny’s couch—a futon that would also be my bed for the next while as I sorted out the mess I’d made—and was nursing a cup of tea she’d placed in my hands when I’d arrived with tearstained cheeks and an overnight bag. I had considered going to my parents’ place but, still angry they’d lied to me, decided I couldn’t deal with them right now.
When I’d texted Matt to say I was going to crash with Jenny for now so he could stay at the condo, I got a one-word reply (Okay). I’m not sure what I’d hoped for, because I certainly didn’t deserve anything more. Matt had, over these past couple of months, been solid and selfless, and what had I done to show him my gratitude for his commitment? I kissed my ex.
“More tea?” Jenny asked, standing to fill her own mug.
I shook my head, stared into my still-full cup.
“So, what do you want to do?” she asked, adding water to her mug from the steaming kettle. She dipped the tea bag a few times, then settled back into the chair across from me.
