I supposed after you walked away once, it only became easier.
I stood there, still a bit heartbroken, but when I heard him clearing his throat, I turned around and stared his way.
He looked up at me, and now I wished he hadn’t. His eyes held all the hurt I felt in my chest. “Look, I didn’t want it to end like this,” he told me.
I sighed.
I don’t want it to end at all.
I didn’t reply. No matter what I said, it would still be over.
He had made a choice, and it wasn’t me.
“I…it’s just…after everything…” He cleared his throat once more, taking a few moments to search for words he couldn’t find. “You closed yourself off, Grace. You made it impossible for me to even come near you, and…I mean, Jesus! We hadn’t had sex in over a year.”
“You had birthday sex.”
“Yeah, sex only because I turned thirty-two—what kind of life is that? And you kept your socks and tank top on.”
“I get cold.”
“Grace.” His voice was stern and annoyed. I wondered when I’d started to annoy him. Had it just been lately, or had it been that way for years?
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t do that,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair again. “Don’t be sorry. I know what you went through was hard and impossible, but dammit, I was there for you, and you wouldn’t let me in.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d shut him out. I’d shut everyone out; it was the only way I knew how to avoid self-destruction.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
He took one step toward me, and I prayed he’d take more. “Grace…say something, anything other than you’re sorry. See, this is what pisses me off. You’re so passive-aggressive with everything. You don’t talk; you just keep all your feelings in your head.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. At least, it didn’t used to be true. There was a time when all I ever did was express my heart to Finn. Then there was a time it all became too much for him. He never said it, but his facial expressions revealed his truths. Whenever I cried, he’d roll his eyes. Whenever I voiced my pain, he’d tell me it was late, and we’d talk in the morning.
Morning conversations never came, and then my voice slowly became mute.
Maybe that was what love is, though: something that fades over time and then becomes hauntingly still.
“It’s true,” he asserted confidently. Everything Finn did had a layer of confidence to it, and that was a major reason I’d fallen in love with him. He walked the earth as if he knew he belonged, and that was such a powerful trait. He was two years older than me, and when we first met at my parents’ annual summer gala, everyone’s eyes were on Finley James Braun. He was Chester’s finest. If you ended up with Finn, you ended up blessed.
He was smart, handsome, and confident.
All the girls were obsessed with him—every single one. If it weren’t for Mama pushing me into his arms when I was fifteen years old, I would’ve never had the nerve to talk to a boy like Finn on my own.
Back then, I never thought I was good enough for him.
I still didn’t.
Finn pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously irritated with me. “You don’t open up. All you ever do is act passive-aggressive.”
“Yes, well, all you ever do is cheat,” I barked back, the words rolling off my tongue as if I’d been waiting for the perfect moment to fire them off.
Oh, that stung him and seeing him stung only hurt me.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. I wasn’t a mean person—not in the least. I hadn’t known I had a mean bone in my body, truly. My parents raised my sister and me to be kind, considerate, and filled with compassion. If someone described me, they’d never even consider the word cruel, but then again, when one’s heart is breaking, sometimes things are said out of character.
An unnatural rigidness overtook his body. He took an unsteady step backward, and his eyes glassed over. Finn hated being reminded of his betrayal, and that was all I’d been doing for the past few months. Sometimes, I’d leave him voice messages when my anxiety was too high and ask him why he chose another woman. I’d ask him if she was better than me. I’d ask if her kisses ever tasted like mine.
That bothered him so much and might have been the final straw for him in deciding to leave me: my inability to let the other woman leave my mind.
My husband wasn’t a cheater except when it came to her.
Her.
I hated her even though I didn’t know who she was.
I hated her in a way I hadn’t known I could hate a stranger.
How dare she steal something from me that wasn’t hers to take? How dare she swallow my husband whole while I was still trying to breathe him in? How dare she break my heart and not even care about the shards of brokenness piercing through my soul?
“Is that really what you want to say? Do you really want that to be the last thing you say to me?” he asked, still reeling from my words.
Gosh, I hated his face because I still loved it.
So many emotions coursed through my veins—so much confusion, so much internal struggle, so much aching. I felt lonely before he even walked away. My mind formed thoughts that made no sense.
Stay. Go. Don’t leave me. Walk away. Love me. Let me go. Breathe life into me. Let me die.
Stay.
Go…
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. I knew he didn’t want to hear those words, but they were the only ones that came to my mind.
“Come on.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t…I…”
“Grace.” He stepped toward me, but I held my hand up, making him halt his movement. If he came any closer, I’d fall into his arms, and I was certain he’d drop me. He took a breath in through his mouth and whispered, “I made a mistake. She meant nothing to me.”
She.
“Say her name,” I demanded, knowing it was catty but not caring. I was tired of it. I was tired of Finn skirting around the subject of his infidelity. I hated how he pretended I was responsible for his mouth pressing against another woman’s lips, breasts, and hips…her neck, her stomach, her thighs…
Stop.
I hated my thoughts. I’d never imagined my brain could so clearly envision my husband’s mouth on another woman, but alas, the mind was a weapon of mass destruction.
“What?” he asked, playing dumb. Finn was a lot of things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. He knew exactly what I was asking.
“After all this time, you’ve never told me her name because if you did, that would make it real. That would make this final.”
His mouth hovered opened for a second as debate swirled in his mind, considering how real he needed this to be, how real he wanted it to become. Then he spoke. “I can’t do that.”
It was a whisper…his words, his guilt, his disgust.
“If you’ve ever loved me, you’ll tell me.”
“I…” He grimaced. “I can’t. I can’t do that, Grace. Besides, it’s over and done with anyway.”
“It’s no big deal. I don’t care at all, really. I just hope she was ugly,” I joked, but he missed what was happening inside my chest, the fire that was burning me from the inside out.
My heart…
How could the broken pieces keep on shattering?
I sniffled.
He sighed. “We should get going.”
“I’m just going to check the rooms one last time,” I told him.
He parted his lips to scold me, but he didn’t argue. He was tired of arguments, as was I. There came a point when words became exhausting because neither side was truly listening. “I’ll just meet you at the bank, all right?”
I listened to the front door close, then slowly moved through the house, allowing my fingers to softly glide along every surface, every doorframe, every wall. Once I reached the last emptied space, I walked inside and stared at the four walls, the walls I’d had so many plans for, the walls I’d thought my future belonged within.