Page 102 of All Tied Down

“Yes. I had to move my trip up to the middle of next week.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll be there for several weeks. It depends on what everything looks like when I get there.”

“So that’s it.”

“What’s it?” she asks slowly, her eyes narrowing as she stares at me.

“You’re leaving for Tennessee and we’re not going to talk about us?”

“It moves the timeline up a little but⁠—”

“We said six months.”

“Okay, so wait to file the paperwork until it’s exactly six months. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say you care and it’s a mistake to go through with it,” I roar, throwing my arms wide as my chest heaves. I want her to tell me I matter—that we matter.

“Our marriage is fake, Garrett. This was never real. I like you, but we knew we couldn’t sustain this long-term. My job is my life⁠—”

“And you can look me in the eye and tell me that you were happier before Vegas?”

“It’s complicated, Garrett, but this was never supposed to last. This was always going to be temporary, and why the hell are you getting mad at me? You asked me to not divorce you the second we got back to Illinois so you could fix your reputation”—she pauses—“and you did.”

“So, you got nothing out of this?”

“Of course I did. But this”—she waves her hands between us—“this is what happens, Garrett. Relationships fall apart and I don’t have the time or energy to fight with someone. I don’t want to have to apologize when I miss dinner or an event because I chose work over a person. I don’t want to feel guilty, and I don’t want to have to answer to anyone.”

“That’s really how you feel?”

“Things have been amazing, but the problem is always going to be me, don’t you see that?” she cries, her cheeks turning pink as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I can’t give you what you want, Garrett. This only worked between us because I knew it had an expiration date.”

“Bullshit,” I snap, her defensiveness replaced with fury.

“You don’t get to act like you know everything about me.”

“Not everything but a lot. You don’t want to stay married to me? Fine. We’ll get divorced and then you can date me. Actually date me.”

“And how’s that going to look⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck about how it looks to the media or people living in some high-rise in the city. I care about you. Emerson, I want you.”

“I care about you too, but I can’t give you what you want, Garrett.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It’s fucking not and you know it,” I goad. “I’ll have Roan draw up the paperwork before your trip so I can be one less thing you have to worry about.”

“You don’t get to make me be the bad guy,” she cries. “We had an agreement.”

“We did. I just thought we had something real too.” With a parting glance over my shoulder, I add, “My mistake.”

And then I head down to my studio and pour my heart into the one thing that’s never let me down.

EMERSON