"Hey," I whisper, turning onto my side and reaching to turn on the bedside lamp.
"I wasn't sure if I'd catch you. I hope I didn't wake you."
"Not sleeping. Just..." I trail off, unable to find words for the hollow space inside me.
"Just brooding in the dark?" Her voice carries that familiar no-nonsense warmth. "Listen, my weekend just opened up. Is it too much if I come down? I saw a flight down for a good price but wanted to check with you before I snag it."
Relief crashes through me like a wave, unexpected and overwhelming. My throat tightens.
"No," I manage, my voice breaking. "I need you. Your timing couldn't be better."
“Is everything okay?”
I press my palm against my eyes, willing back the tears. “It’s been better.”
“Feel like talking?”
I switch off the lamp, letting the room go dark. It's safer this way, like a confessional where I can whisper sins without being studied.
“He came over Thursday night,” I admit, the words catching in my throat. “It was supposed to be about boardwork, stuff that had to be fixed before the next morning's meeting. But we… we didn’t stop there.”
Gemma doesn’t rush me. She just waits.
I suck in a breath, my chest tight. “We slept together.” The confession burns. “And afterward, I told him. About Beckett. About everything.”
"Shit." The single word carries volumes.
"He was so angry. The look in his eyes—" I swallow hard, remembering the devastation that transformed his face. "He stormed out. And now he's showing up at Beckett's soccer games, at school events, talking to my mother about god knows what regarding Beckett."
"While ignoring you?"
"Completely. In meetings, he calls me 'Ms. Harrelson' and I die a little bit every time he calls me that."
The silence on Gemma's end stretches, broken only by her soft breathing.
"No one else knows," I whisper finally. "He made me promise not to tell anyone until he decides what to do. At first, I took that to mean anyone, or I would have called you sooner. But I know he means my family. I've just been paralyzed, hoping he would calm down and come around to talk to me. But he hasn't. He hates me."
More silence, and then Gemma's voice returns, soft but steady. "You did what you had to. You couldn't carry it anymore. Now let him carry his part of it. He'll eventually come around."
I close my eyes, letting her words settle over me. "What if I've ruined everything?"
"Then it was always going to be like this. It hurts right now, but I promise it will work out." Gemma's certainty wraps around me like a blanket.
"You sound so sure. You haven't seen the daggers hiseyes shoot at me when he looks at me. If he even looks at me."
"He'll run out of daggers. Trust me."
A small laugh escapes me, surprising us both. "Like I said, your timing couldn't be better. I'll pick you up at the airport. What time does the flight get in?"
"I'm clicking purchase now. I land at 4:10 on Friday. You're not picking me up, though. That's what Lyft is for."
After we hang up, I lie awake, insomnia pressing in more incessantly than ever. Gemma's words echo in my head.You did what you had to.
Did I, though? Maybe we all would have been better off if I'd taken my secret to the grave. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
I lie back against the pillows, the cotton cool against my skin. Through half-drawn blinds, moonlight spills across the ceiling in silver bands, casting shadows that stretch and shrink with passing clouds.
The house stands silent around me except for the gentle click of the fan and the occasional creak of settling wood.