In my heart, she is my wife.
And if I have anything to say about it?
She will remain that way in law, under God, and in every other damn way there is, too.
“She never made those videos,” I say, more to the night than anything else.
The truth lands heavy.
Final.
She told me.
So many fucking times.
And I didn’t believe her.
Because I didn’t think I deserved her.
That’s the part that sticks.
That’s the part that pisses me off the most.
Not just Paul’s lies.
Not just his betrayal.
Mine.
Because I let it happen.
Let doubt creep in.
Let my own fucked-up baggage twist something good into something rotten.
Bastard son of Ace Gunner.
Just another no account fuck up.
The words echo like a curse.
I’ve heard them my whole life.
Felt them.
Lived them.
And somewhere along the way, I started believing them.
Started thinking I wasn’t good enough.
Not for her.
Not for something real.
So when Paul handed me that lie—wrapped up in something that looked like truth—I took it.
Didn’t question it hard enough.
