“What?” I spin around.
“Do you not want to be with me anymore?” The question cracks in his throat.
“I never said—”
“Emma…” He lets out a rough laugh, irritation ticking his jaw. “I may have lost some things, but I’m not an idiot.”
“What are you talking about?” I force my voice low.
He laughs again, bitter this time. The sound is too familiar, and the room starts to spin.Please don’t let this be happening.
“I didn’t—I didn’t say that,” I stammer, my resolve slipping from my grasp. What happened while he was gone?
“Are you angry with me or something?” I drop my eyes, too scared to meet his.
He exhales sharply, and it’s confirmation enough. He’s angry at me. I shouldn’t have made him come. This is my fault.
My chest starts to burn, and my stomach roils, the monster now fully awake. It rages slowly, sending a prickling down my spine and to my limbs. My mind begins to race. The world gets louder and slower all at once. My knees wobble.I need my medicine. Steven reaches for me, but I flinch.
“Emma, let me help you.”
“Please don’t.” My voice cracks like glass as his question echoes painfully loud in my head.Is this how it is now?
“Emma, breathe,” he instructs, trying to fix the problem again.
“I don’t need yourhelp, Steven.”
His hand falls away from where he was reaching for me. His jaw clenches so tight I can see the muscle pulse. Without another word, he snatches the keys off the counter and storms out the back door.
As soon as he’s gone, I deflate. My head spins and it takes me a long time to walk back into the living room where I collapse next to Shayna. She shifts, making room, and Easton crawls into my lap. The smell of his Spider-Man shampoo settles my nerves. Not fully gone, just quietly curled up in my chest,lingering.
Easton’s heart beats softly against my ear.Lub dub. Lub dub. I focus on the rhythm, matching my breathing to his.
We make it to the scene where Kerchak sacrifices himself to save Tarzan. And though we’ve all seen it a dozen times, the living room stills.
“See?” Jay whispers, nudging my shoulder.
“Hmm?” I murmur over Easton’s sleeping head.
“It’s heartbreaking,” she whimpers, pointing to my face.
I reach up and find tears—real ones—running down my cheeks.
“I knew it would make you cry,” Shayna adds.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I guess so.”
But I keep watching the screen, letting the tears fall freely, letting the emotion of everything move through me because fighting it hurts worse.
And while everyone else is moved by the movie, my tears aren’t for Tarzan or the gorilla.
They’re for the sinking realization settling heavy in my stomach.
They’re for the truth I’ve been trying to run from. The truth I selfishly thought memory loss could fix.
My marriage is falling apart.
Chapter thirty-four
