Eliza wobbles her head, scrunching her nose. “Not much. Only that you cut contact when you left for London. But I have exceptional observational skills,” she whispers dramatically.
“Are you saying we’ve not been subtle about our little drama?”
You can tell she’s been around Carter for some time because she gives me the same unimpressed glare.
“Things moved very fast after he came back from college with Carter. It was awhirlwind romance.” I lift my hands into the air, fingers sweeping wide, framing the imaginary title of a bad rom-com.
“Until it wasn’t?”
“Until I went to mandatory monthly brunch with Blanca and her minions.” I see their faces, already seated around the table, polite smiles barely masking the thrill of the impending drama. I remember how Blanca took my hand and softened her voice. “A friend of hers saw Adam at a bar with one of his colleagues. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say he was acting too friendly and handsy for a man in a relationship with someone he claimed he loved…”
Eliza’s mouth twists. “Oh…”
It was like I took a wrong turn on a hike and fell into a ravine, and I kept falling without the merciful final crash.
“What did he say?”
I hike a shoulder. “Never asked,” I say, a bit unsure.
“Youdidn’t ask?” She blinks at me like a baby owl.
“A professor from Colombia had emailed me a couple of months earlier about the MBA in London. She thought I was a good fit, offered to write a recommendation letter. At the time, a whole year away seemed like too much. But after the brunch? I packed my bags and didn’t look back.”
Mom worried about the sudden move. Dad… didn’t care either way.
It took me a week to cool down before the first tendrils of regret broke the surface. For leaving like that. Even then, pride and self-preservation had a tight grip on me.
“For years, we’ve been doing this avoidance dance. And at the same time, finding ways to draw blood, any chance we get. Still…Whenever I need him, he’s there. I called in a panic, and he came rushing after those guys chased me with their car,” I murmur.
Even though the night we finally spoke about it, he looked so desolate when I told him why I left. Like I reached inside and ripped out a vital part of him.
Maybe I deserve his anger.
“Nothing changed after that,” I continue. “Now the immediate danger has passed, he’s back to keeping away like there’s a mine field around me.”
He left separately for New York without even a goodbye. I’ve tried texting, but his answers are terse. As if he’d get hurt again if he came too close.
And it nags at me. The pieces that don’t add up.
This inexplicable feeling I’m terrified to explore.
It follows me into my sleep. A dark door I keep seeing in my dreams. It has nothing to do with the break-in or the attacks on the company. Those are nightmares.
There’s something important behind the door. That much I know. Every time I work up the courage to finally step toward it and reach for the handle, I wake up.
We sit in silence for a while before Eliza speaks.
“Adam never struck me as the cheating type. But…” She makes a face, lips pressing together. “I’ve been wrong before.”
“We finally talked about it a few weeks ago,” I admit. “He denied it. Vehemently. It didn’t go well.”
Eliza looks at me for a long moment, and then, ever the optimist, voices the question I’ve been keeping under lock and key for years.
“If he could prove it. Would it change anything?”
Eight years ago, I had a knee-jerk reaction. When everything spun out of control, doubt and fear surged in like a tidal wave, blinding whatever sense I thought I had.
I’ve been living with the echoes of that decision ever since.
