“Do you think she’d want to talk?” I ask quietly. “To me?”
Cody exhales. “I don’t know. She always says she doesn’t want to be around anyone.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Then maybe it’s not a good idea.”
He pauses, drying his hands on a towel. “You know what…let’s try. Maybe it would help.”
He glances toward the living room. “Emma will be fine for a minute.”
I follow him upstairs, staying back a few steps as he knocks softly on their bedroom door.
“Riss?” His voice is careful. Hesitant. He waits, then swallows. “Babe?”
“What?” she mumbles.
Cody eases the door open. “Megan’s here. She wanted to see you.”
My stomach flips. Suddenly I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, what version of myself I should bring into this room.
Cody gestures me forward. And then I see her.
Karissa’s lying on her side, hair twisted into a messy knot with loose curls stuck to her cheeks. Her face is blotchy, eyes swollen and red. Used tissues are scattered on the floor. She’s wiping at her cheek, like no matter how hard she tries, she can’t stop crying.
“Hey,” I say softly.
She doesn’t sit up. Just murmurs a quiet “Hi.”
I step in slowly and sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to crowd her.
“I’m really sorry you’re struggling,” I say.
Her eyes squeeze shut and her breath catches. Tears push through anyway, her shoulders trembling as she tries—and fails—to hold them back.
“Do you want to talk about anything?” I ask gently. “I want to help.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t even know what to say. It passes eventually. I just…sink really low for a few hours and then I’m okay again.”
“How often does that happen?”
“Once a week. Maybe twice.” She shrugs weakly. “I don’t know.”
“And right now?” I ask. “What’s the loudest thought in your head?”
She stares at the wall. “That Cody doesn’t love me.”
My heart drops. “Karissa…Cody loves you so much.”
“No, he doesn’t,” she says immediately. “We fight over the dumbest things and then everything feels rocky, and I can’t handle it.”
“Arguments don’t mean that,” I say carefully. “Mason and I argue. Does that mean he doesn’t love me?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Right. So Cody loves you too.”
Her voice cracks. “No, I’m a bad wife, bad mom. He deserves someone else and so do the kids.”
She sits up, leaning back against the headboard. Her face is wrecked—eyes swollen, cheeks streaked, exhaustion written all over her.
