Page 20 of Endless Depths

“God damn it.” Tears sting my eyes. I don’t know if it’s the pain, or the humiliation, but I’m furious. “Stop saving me.”

He drops his hands. His face crumples. “Sweetheart.”

“No. Don’t fucking pity me.”

“I don’t pity you. What hurts you hurts me too.”

“Go home, Morgan.”

He tosses his hands. “Where’s home? Our place? The one you changed the locks on? The guest room at Seb’s? I don’t have a home if I don’t have you.”

“You moved in with Shay?”

I have no business being jealous, but I am anyway. For the first few days after I kicked him out, I worried about where he ended up, but he’s been taking care of himself for almost as long as I’ve been alive. Raised by wolves, that guy.

“I moved in with Finn. Shay’s just there too.”

“Sounds like you know where to go then.”

I limp down the dock and push through the metal gate. It slams shut with a grating clang that rattles the bones inside my ears.

Morgan catches up to me in seconds without breaking a sweat. “Wait. I’ll drive you.”

I stuff my headphones in my ears, and the custom playlist I titledMelodramatic Assholepicks up where I left off.

“Hey!” He yanks my headphones out. “I’m not done talking to you, and I’m not done with you. When I said until death do us part, I meant it.”

“You kept your vows. The man you married died when you saved me.”

“What about your vows?”

“What about them? I’m not the man who made them.”

I snatch my headphones back and head toward our building. This time, he doesn’t stop me. He gets into his truck and follows me as I hobble up the hill and walk the three blocks to our loft. I don’t wave goodbye. I don’t tell him thank you. I don’t respond when he tells me again that our conversation isn’t over. Our marriage isn’t over.

I grip the handrail like a life ring, and haul myself up the stairs to the loft that feels hollow without him. Morgan won’t drive away until I turn the light on, so I shuffle to the window in the dark, stabilizing myself with a hand on the boxes I packed his stuff in.

Beneath the glow of the streetlamp, Morgan stares up at our window, fist to his mouth like he’s fighting off tears. I could call and ask him to come up. I could open the window and shout his name. I could stare at him in the darkness until he checks on me.

But I don’t.

I turn my back to the window, pull the lamp string on my bedside table, and wait for him to drive away. Once the sound of his engine fades, I turn off the light and crawl under the covers on his side of the bed. Then I lie awake for hours, wracked with guilt and pain. There’s a bottle of oxycodone in the bathroom, but I won’t take it. Pain is my punishment.

SEVEN

Morgan

Balloons bobagainst the ceiling like buoys. The cheerful slice of confetti cake in front of Finn rests untouched on his plate. He refused to leave the dining table, and claimed he was still eating each time we tried to coax him away. Finn didn’t smile when we sang happy birthday, but he blew out his candles as was expected of him. Lawrence asked him what he wished for, like the tactless dumbass he is, and of course Finn wished for Uncle Cole.

Finn opened his presents one by one with the enthusiasm of an employee at the Department of Motor Vehicles. He politely thanked each of the five friends he invited, and while he didn’t play with any of his new toys, he smiled a few times as he watched them crash his remote control monster truck into the wrapping paper.

The last of his friends left a half hour ago. Thank god for Shay and Mrs. Hai’s foresight to ask the parents of his classmates to drop off and pick up their kids outside so Finn wouldn’t be reminded of what he lost. Each time a new guest arrived, Finn’s eyes snapped to the door. It breaks my heart and pisses me off all at once.

“Maybe we should have skipped the party,” I tell the guys. The downstairs of Seb’s house is open concept, except for the hallto the bathroom and guest room where I sleep. Music provides a decent cover for our conversation, but I lower my voice. “The grief counselor said we should follow Finn’s lead, but now I’m worried he only said yes because he thought Cole would come.”

There’s no handbook on how to co-parent your nephew with someone you barely know because your husband dumped you. I don’t want to do this without Cole.

“That’s on Cole, not you,” Javi says across the coffee table.