"They’re marks from my medication, okay?" I shout, still inside the Uber.
Avery’s apartment building is less than a block away. I can see it, we’re so close. He needs me, and I need to be there for him. But I can’t be there for him, without being there for myself, too. I can’t go inside his building—insidehis home—with my relentless family pressing me for answers I’ve been too afraid to give them. Like the fucking coward I am.
"Medication forwhat,Olive? Stop being so cryptic. Stop talking in riddles. Just be open and honest with us—withme—for once in your life." Lizzie wipes tears from her cheeks impatiently, almost angrily.
This poor Uber driver did not sign up for this.
I suck in a breath, shaky and thin, and finally say the words I’ve been holding back. This isn’t how I ever pictured telling my family, but I don’t have a choice anymore.
It’s either come clean or let them believe what the press is saying about my husband.
"The day the tour started, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis." The car brakes squeal, and when I glance out the window, I realize we’ve stopped right in front of Avery’s building. I swing the car door open, chancing a look over my shoulder, terrified of the faces I know I’ll see.
Mom: Heartbroken.
Dad: Shocked.
My sisters: Disbelief.
"Now, I have to go inside, try to get through to Avery, and hope he’s okay. I will explain the rest and answer any questions you have about me later, but right now, he is my priority. He needs my full attention." I shut the door before they can say anything, and head toward the lobby of his apartment building.
"Wait!" Dad’s voice cuts through the chaos in my head, the million thoughts spinning, none of them making any sense. Always the one who could bring me back to rational. "How canwesupport him? How can we support the two of you?" He blinks away the tears that threaten to spill over, but doesn’t leave the car. Lizzie opens the window on the other side, with her, Cassandra and Mom nodding profusely to agree with him.
My lip trembles. "You mean that?"
He nods, but says nothing else.
"Keep your phones nearby. I’ll text you."
He climbs back in the car, and I watch them drive away.
Pulling my phone out, I shoot Orlando a text.
Orlando Davis
Just got to his place. I’ll let you know how I go.
I have a statement for whenever he’s ready.
"Let me in, Avery!" I shout, pounding on the door, loud enough for every neighbor to hear. "Please. Let me in."
To my surprise, he opens the door, but doesn’t greet me.
Just stares through me like I’m some stranger.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
He turns his back and walks away, heading for the living room where it’s clear he’s been holed up all afternoon.
He sits, head down, elbows on his knees, hands balled into fists.
"Because I care about you." It’s all I manage to say as I move to sit beside him. But when I get too close, he flinches, then stands, putting distance between us. He moves to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city he’s called home for a decade.
The city he’s devoted his life to, only for them to turn their backs and make him a villain.
"Please don’t, Olive. It’s easier for both of us if you don’t. Get out while you can. You deserve to be with somebody better than me. Somebody who can—"
"I wantyou,Avery. I deserveyou."
