“You should have told me you were coming, Jericho.” He smooths his shirt down before checking his phone and putting it face-down on the counter.
I glance at my phone in front of me—face up.
“I wanted to surprise you,” I say flatly.
We both know that isn’t the case. My goal wasn’t to surprise him. It was to catch him off guard.
It seems each time I speak with him, it gets harder and harder to pretend I’m happy.
“You know I don’t do surprises.”
No, not unless it’s a birthday party I’m not invited to, like the one that was thrown for you over the summer; the photos splashed all over the internet for everyone to see how happy and excited you were… without me.
Yeah, except for that.
“I was hoping we could spend some time together.”
“And had you asked to come, I’d have told you my schedule, Jericho. You know I’m busy.”
Asked. Nottold. Butasked. Schedule time with him like an investor or customer and not his husband.
“I could go with you,” I offer, ignoring the way my stomach is churning.
He scoffs. “What has gotten into you? You know how this works. This isn’t what we do.”
Not by choice.
I nod like I understand, like I haven’t been bending myself into this shape for years just to fit beside him. Like wanting morefrom him—a normal marriage, what was promised to me—is a phase I should’ve outgrown by now.
I’m the one who always forgets the rules, who always fucks up. I thought showing up here would mean something, even if it was small, and even though I should know better by now. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this song and dance, and yet I keep expecting things to be different every time I do it.
Definition of insanity, right?
Being with my husband in the light isn’t something I’m allowed, even if it was what he promised in the beginning, and multiple times throughout these fourteen years. And it’s starting to feel like I’m not allowed to be with him at all anymore.
Things change, he says.I’m a different man now. In a different position. It has to be like this. And it works for both of us, Jericho. Your job keeps you busy, too.
But we don’t have to be like this. We could be happy, like we once were, all those years ago. Deep down, we are still the same people. But by staying with him, I’m agreeing to this arrangement that I fucking hate, but put up with, anyway.
“Why are we still together, Franklin? You don’t even like me.”
I’m not sure where that came from, but he looks at me like I’m a disappointment.
“That’s a dramatic thing to say, Jericho. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you. But you’ve always needed more than I do.”
That hurts more than it should, and I can’t think of a single thing to say back.
Franklin picks up his phone, sighing as he turns to face me. His light-grey gaze meets mine in a stern stare.
“I have to go.”
He heads toward the door but stops and turns to face me again. Hope blooms in my chest, and I wonder if he’ll let me go with him after all. I have clothes here. A suit I could put on in record time. I’d go, just to spend time with him, just to be nearhim and remember my husband for once—the good parts of him. The way it used to be, how it should be still instead of what we are. Hell, I’d be okay with an apology right now. Something along the lines of, “that was harsh. I’m sorry. Let’s figure things out.” But of course, I get nothing like that. Not even close.
“Jericho,” he says, taking a step closer to me. “We’ve built something good. Something stable. Don’t let your emotions get in the way.” He turns and leaves, making me feel two inches tall—which is what he’s good at.
The moon is high in the sky, not quite full but bright. I lean on the glass edge of Franklin’s private rooftop pool and look at the city below.
I think back on all the decisions that got me here, wondering which one would have made a big enough difference to change the trajectory of my life. It all goes back to the same thing.
