Page 69 of His Secret Wish

He’d taken care of the condom, and was leaning up on an elbow, watching her. There was confusion in his gaze. Which was understandable. But then it was gone, and his face went to that blank mask she hated. The one he’d worn at the start of this weekend.

Disappointment crashed through her. At herself. At the situation. At the universe. She hated feeling so up and down, so out of sorts, but that was what always happened between them. And it was clear this weekend had been a mistake. They never should have agreed to make it a neutral zone. She never should have let her guard down. Should have protected herself and her heart at all costs.

She pulled on her robe, refusing to look at him, and grabbed her clothes. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She reached for the doorknob, part of her wanting him to say something, to stop her, the rest of her terrified he would.

Pulling open the door, she held her breath. The silence was deafening. She stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her. By the time she’d locked herself in the bathroom, her tears were falling like the rain the night of the thunderstorm.

She sat on the toilet and silently sobbed. For herself, for Owen, for the babies they’d lost. For Yaya, and her broken heart. She hadn’t thought it could get anymore broken, but clearly, she’d been mistaken. Because it was shattered in a way that made what she’d felt before feel like nothing.

The regrets and heartbreak made her feel like she was drowning, and there was no one to toss her a life preserver. Not that she deserved any help. She’d lied to Owen, because no matter how she tried to frame it, not telling him about the hysterectomy, keeping that from him, had been a lie.

And she didn’t know how to fix it, how to make it better. She’d never be able to survive telling him the truth and having that love, that light, slowly die in his eyes.

She sobbed harder, her nose running, her chest and throat aching. He didn’t come for her, ask her why she was taking so long, finding out if everything was everything okay. That just made her cry harder. She’d been such a fool to let herself get so comfortable, so complacent.

The tears dried up eventually, her body feeling like she’d been hit by a delivery truck, one of those big, refrigerated ones that delivered the produce to the diner. With a sigh, she stood and got dressed. She looked at herself in the mirror. Puffy eyes, a red nose, and rosy cheeks stared back at her. She splashed some cold water on her face. Not that it helped.

She slipped out of the bathroom, her gaze automatically zeroing in on the door across the hall. The urge to open it, to slip inside and pretend everything was okay was far too tempting. So instead, she walked down the hall, and then down the stairs to the kitchen.

The house was eerily silent, somberness like a shroud. It made her entire body ache. A glance at the clock on the stove showed it was past midnight. She walked through the kitchen and the living room, both quiet and empty. The hallway to the family room felt like it was a thousand miles long, her steps dragging.

There was no one in the family room, it too far too silent. She grabbed the afghan, it was one that Yaya had crocheted, and curled up on the sofa. The grandfather clock in the corner made a tick, tick, tick sound. She stared into the darkness, finally feeling numb. She didn’t know when it happened, but sleep finally claimed her, pulling her down into its dark, dreamless abyss.