“Wasn’t it?” I whisper to myself, thinking back over everything
But he’s the one who insisted on a dress, flowers, having his friends participate. The reception.
Every step of the way, he’s been taking this far more seriously than I have. I just assumed … well, I thought it was to sell the story to everyone—his friends … the press. If gossip sites got wind that our marriage was on paper only, they’d have a field day. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to be gossiped about like that. I didn’t want that for me, either, to be honest.
I said …
His voice echoes in my mind, reminding me of the other things he said. And it’s true, he did say that he was happy for me to stay as long as I’m happy. But … I just assumed that was his way of telling me he wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of me. Not that he wanted to stay marriedforever.
I never thoughtforeverwas a real option. Even if we’re having fun with each other now. People always get tired of me long beforeforever.
But the way he reacted …
He seems to think that was what we were doing.
But … seriously?
Jason and me? A couple? For real?
My brother’s best friend, my first preteen crush, the famous hockey player … my husband. And not just for convenience or insurance or any of the other excuses. But because he wantsme?
Groaning softly, I drop my head into my hands and cover my face. How could I have fucked this up so badly?
And how am I going to fix it?
I decide to give him some space. From the way he went to his room and closed the door, he obviously wants it. I head to my own room and get out my violin. Music has always soothed me when things feel wrong.
And things have felt—been—wrong so much more often than not in my life, that it’s almost comforting to have everything blow up in my face. I knew it would eventually. Constantlywaiting for the explosion is, in a lot of ways, worse than the explosion itself.
Now that I’ve fucked up—it was always inevitable, I can admit that—I don’t have to worry about when and how. I can figure out how to fix it. Assuming, of course, that Icanfix it.
As I know all too well, there are many, many things in life that can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try or how much you wish you could. My brother, for example. My parents.
But I really, really don’t want to add Jason to that list.
While Jason’s still polite, nothing between us is okay. He answers the door to my knock later, but gives me a wan smile when I ask if he’s okay.
“I’m fine, Hailey. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m going to turn in early, though. I have a flight tomorrow.”
“Right. O-of course,” I stammer, still standing there when he closes the door softly, but firmly, in my face.
I guess I won’t be sleeping with him tonight.
That feels … bad.
Painful.
I rub my hand over the spot in my chest where it hurts the worst.
I only have myself to blame.
I’ve said all the wrong things, and as usual, I don’t know what the right things to say evenare. If I did, I would happily say all of them. Right now. I don’t want him to leave while things are like this between us.
But he does.
He’s already gone before I get up in the morning, even though I didn’t think his flight out was that early. Maybe it was, and I was just too wrapped up in myself to know.
But no … I scroll back through our texts. He sent me the details of his flights for this trip, and he definitely didn’t need to be out of the house this early.
