“Because I want to wake up trusting that life will be fair,” she says, her voice wobbling. “And life isn’t fair. Sometimes life is terrible.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “Sometimes life is terrible. But there’s alsoalwaysgood stuff happening. All the time. All around us. And I kind of feel like it’s our job to notice the good stuff, too, and grab hold of whatever we can, while we can.”
“Sure.” She blinks back tears. “And that’s a whole lot easier to say when you’ve always had options.”
“Whoa.”
That one cut a little. Not gonna lie.
“I’m not saying you throw your money around,” shebacktracks, shaking her head. “You’re the king of the good stuff, and I love that about you.”
“And I love that you love that.”
“I guess I’m just confused right now.” She swipes at her nose “And I wanted to be certain for a change, you know? For once in my life, I just wanted a little certainty.”
“Not me.”
My jaw is tight.
“Not you, what?”
“I don’t want certainty.” I level my gaze. “I just want you.”
She lets out a long, painful whimper like someone just stabbed her through the abdomen. “You see? When you say things like that, you make thinking and breathing around you totally impossible.”
“I won’t apologize for wanting you,” I say.
“Not helping,” she says, returning her attention to the duffel.
“Don’t go.” I’m not in the habit of making demands of women, but this one’s nonnegotiable. “Loren.”
“I can’t stay.” She shoves a stray sock in her bag and zips it up. “I’m going to Havenwood to visit my dad, just like I would on any other day. Consistency is best for him, and he’s still my priority. After that, I’ll tutor the students who are counting on me to be a steadiness in their lives. And while I’m gone, I’m going to try my hardest to forget all about my mother-in-law or Operation Fool Margaret or how badly we messed things up.”
I swallow past the boulder in my throat. “So why do you need a bag?”
“I think I should sleep at Dexter’s place tonight.” She gives her head a little shake. “I meanmyapartment. Maybe there—alone—I can breathe. And think.”
“No.”
She startles. “What do you mean,no?”
“I mean nowalking out on me until tomorrow. In case you forgot, we’re married now, Loren. Which means we can take time to process our feelings, sure, but then we need to circle back.”
“Circle back?”
“Yes. We process, then we circle back until we find some resolution. Together. And if you aren’t here, we can’t circle.”
Her brow creases. “Have you been reading relationship books or something?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I found one at Book Smart yesterday. It’s all about good marital communication, but I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, because I’ve been too busy waiting for my intrusive mother to leave so my wife and I could finally talk to each other alone!”
Am I raising my voice? Yes.
Yelling? No. Never at Loren.
But the truth is, I’m legitimately worked up right now, heart hammering against my chest, pulse throbbing in my carotid. I’m pretty sure if I looked in the mirror, there’d be a vein popping out on my forehead. And you know what? This feels like the appropriate response.
How else should a man behave when he’s being blackmailed into annulling his marriage?