It’s the piece of her I fell in love with first.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive withoutit.
• • •
That afternoon, she naps while I’m interviewed by Lars in a room reserved just for this purpose. “Describe how blissful it was at the start,” he says, “and then I’ll have you tell me how it’s gone downhill.”
He wants the best moments, then the worst. He wants to know what I hoped for and what worries me now. Every answer is a struggle, and most contain a half truth or no truth at all.
But the doubts…those come pretty easily. How couldn’t they when it’s increasingly clear I’ve ruined everything?
Bex is still asleep when I get back, flushed and peaceful, her mouth slightly open, her long hair splayed across her pillow…and it feels as if I betrayed her with what I just said on camera.
But I didn’t lie, and Lars didn’t put any words in my mouth. I do have doubts, and I can’t bring myself to effuse about my wife and our marriage when I know what a bloody fool I’ll look like after it ends. My parents’ legacy can’t be two sons whopubliclylost the plot over women. But when I look at her sleeping there, I regret it all. I regret what I said, and I regret that I’ve grown into the man I have—one who makes decisions like the one I made last summer and is so unable to be what she needs. If there was a way to just silence the world and slip away with her somewhere right now, I’d takeit.
Bex
The phone rings early. We’vegot a full day of waterfall rappelling and cliff-jumping planned—all of which I’m slightly too sore to enjoy after yesterday’s run—but I certainly didn’t plan to have it begin four hours after I fell asleep.
Theo grabs his cell and takes it outside. I’m out of bed and making coffee when he returns, and I see the change in him before he ever says a word.
His eyes are empty. “There’s an issue at home,” he says, looking away. “I need to make a few more calls.”
He walks back outside with his phone and continues onto the beach, and every joyful thing inside me evaporates as if it was never there at all.
Nothing about ourcompanywould require privacy, not from me, and that sends my brain to all the worst places just the way Bronwyn’s usedto.
She allowed herself to care enough to be wounded by people. I guess I finally have too.
He returns to the house looking no happier than he did when he left. “I’ve got to get back to London,” he says. “I’m so sorry. There are just some things there that can’t wait.”
I nod, striving to be the girl I’ve been all along, the one who doesn’t care what he’s hiding, who isn’t expecting him to stick around. There’s this ache in my chest that suggests I’m not that girl any longer. “Okay. When do you leave?”
He glances back at his phone. “I’m trying to get a flight out today. I’m sorry…can you give me a few minutes to see if I can make it work?”
He’s already back on his laptop, clearly relieved to be rid of me before I’ve even left the room. The feeling is familiar—it’s how Jessie looked every single time I was heading back to school. It’s probably how my mother looked too, pushing me on the swings while plotting a new life withoutme.
I remain out on the pool deck in my pajamas, watching the sun rise over the horizon, so sick to my stomach that nothing on my phone can distract me. What the hell has gone wrong and how did I not have a clue it was coming?
When I return, Theo is dressed and shoving clothes into his bag.
He glances at me, his jaw tight. “I was able to get on a nonstop, but I’ve got to hurry. I’m so sorry about this.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, my voice entirely flat. “Work comes first.”
He swallows, hesitating. I wait for him to admit it’s not work he’s returning for, and he doesn’t. Maybe a healthier person would take this moment to ask him where things stand. To tell him whereIstand. To say,I think I’m falling in love with you. I need to know if this is what you want.
Instead, I hold every one of those thoughts inside me and walk him out to the waiting cab. Lars and Katrina come down the street to join us—Theo must have texted Lars to let him know, though I’m not sure how Katrina heard…unless they were together. “We’ll see you in Maplewood,” Lars says, with a hand on Theo’s forearm.
Theo thanks him and then glances at me. “I’ll talk to you soon,” he says.
I nod, and he hoists his bag higher on his shoulder. He’s about to turn for the car but at the last minute steps forward, pulling me against him. “I’ll call when I get in,” he says quietly. It would be entirely sufficient if there wasn’t uncertainty in his voice too—as if he’s not sure he meansit.
“Okay,” I whisper, taking in one last hit of him—minty breath, that soap he always uses. He releases me and then he’s off, in a car that disappears over the hill before I even have time to wave goodbye.
What are you not telling me, Theo? Because this seemed like an ending.
Maybe it was.
