“Yeah.” I hesitate before saying, “I don’t…really know why I called.”
“That’s okay.” I don’t know how to explain it, but he sounds so…understanding. I feel like I can confess my darkest, deepest sins and he’d somehow convince me I’m at no fault.
“Leo came by,” I finally tell him. “James told him that you’re in town and that you were in Vegas with me.”
“How did he take it?”
“He asked if there was something going on with me and you,” I answer. “He…knows about you. He’s known about you for a long time.”
“What did you tell him?” I can hear the cautious tone in his voice. It’s there in the hesitating pause and the quietly whispered question.
“I told him no,” I say firmly. “I told him it wasn’t any of his business. And he told me that he didn’t care because I’m still his wife.”
He lightly scoffs instead of the expected string of curses directed at Leo, showing some restraint on his end. “It doesn’t change the fact that he still cheated on you, Teeny.”
“I know,” I tell him. “And I reminded him that I won’t be his wife for much longer.”
“Good.”
A smile that feels completely foreign in place of the perpetual scowl I’ve been wearing all day tugs at my lips. “But…after what happened, it doesn’t make me any better than him, Everett. I stooped down to his level.”
“Was that what that was? Trying to show him up? Or get back at him?” he asks. His voice isn’t threatening or accusatory. He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. If not out of pure curiosity, then to clarify what our kiss meant.
“No!” I answer quickly, and I can almost hear him smile. “No, Everett. That’s not what that was at all. Me and you?—”
“Then you haven’t stooped down to his level,” he assures me.
“Okay,” I say, sounding unsure of myself. “I should go,” I tell him after a pregnant pause. “I’m sorry I called you so late.”
“It’s okay, Teeny. You can call me anytime.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest, and I want to fall into a heap of tears. “Good night, Everett.”
“Night, Teeny.”
I hang up, and as soon as my phone lands on my bed, the tears start to flow. I can’t pinpoint why I’m crying. If it’s because of Leo and our broken marriage. If it’s because I miss Everett so damn much and crying is the only way to express the pain I’m feeling from his gaping absence. Or if I’m finally saying goodbye. To Everett and our past, and this is the mourning period I never got to have. Or to my marriage, all the good years we had before everything went to shit.
Or maybe it’s the tidal wave of emotions that’s finally hitting me. All at once, like a tsunami. I feel too many things. Anger, regret, sadness, grief, resentment, relief. All of those feelings are coming together, only for me to realize how weak I’ve become. I’m tired, completely spent from trying to keep my shit together.
My nose starts to blubber with snot, and the tears run down my cheeks, soaking my shirt. I bury my face into my pillow, letting it stain with the remains of my sadness. I don’t know how long I’ve been crying, but I’m interrupted by an alert on my phone. I pick it up to see a new text message from Everett.
Everett
I’m outside.
The tears stop cold in their tracks, and I reach for a tissue to wipe away at the mess on my face. I should question his message. There should be some kind of emotion that aligns with panic and worry coursing through me knowing that Everett is at my doorstep while Sadie’s sound asleep in her room, but I don’t. I feel the opposite. I feel relieved.
My body’s on autopilot as I walk down the stairs to my front door, and when I open it, Everett’s on the other side. He’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, his hair a little disheveled and that five o’clock shadow outlining his jaw perfectly.
“Hi,” he says grimly. His eyes look tired and sad, almost mirroring mine.
I know I look like a mess. Cheeks stained with tears and my nose a blotchy red color, all evidence of the sobbing fest I had up in my room, but I don’t care at this point. The dam breaks, and the tears come in a fresh wave. As soon as my face twists and a sob breaks from my chest, Everett steps forward, pulling me into him. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make the tears stop, and when the sobs become louder, he pulls me outside, closing the door behind me.
“Is Sadie home?”
I nod into his chest.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Shh, it’s okay, Teeny,” he continues softly into my hair. It helps, his soothing voice, his hands moving over my threadbare night shirt, and next thing I know, I’m looking up at him. He smooths away the hair on my face and wipes at the tears. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not going to hurt you. Not again.”
