“Don’t leave, Calla.” He kisses my forehead. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you.”
I hitch my next breath as I hold in the urge to cry.
“We aren’t meant to be together, Beck.”
“Yes, we are.”
I shake my head.
“Baby, come on, we are.” His pleading almost does me in.
“We just… we want different things.”
“Do we?” he asks. “Because I’m pretty sure we both want to be together. You’re just being stubborn as hell right now.”
“Well, that’s the winning line to get me to stay,” I say with heavy sarcasm.
I turn to walk away, but he stops me.
“If this is about the kids thing, that doesn’t matter to me, Calla. You matter to me. Us.”
The soft expression in his eyes as he looks into my own makes me want to believe him, but I’ve had years to accept this. He hasn’t.
“You’ve known for two weeks, Beck. You need to take time to think about it and process and—”
“I don’t need to take any time to process that I want to be with you.”
“Beck, so much has happened recently. With the accident, I think maybe you’re making decisions because you’re scared that life is short.”
“I’m not scared, Calla. Come on. Don’t run like you did in Vegas. Talk to me. Stay. Let’s make this work.”
“I’m not running this time, Beck. I’m standing right here, telling you that we aren’t meant to be together.”
“I don’t agree with you, so I’m going to need more than that.”
“Beck, please stop.”
“Tell me exactly why we shouldn’t be together, and I’ll stop.”
“Because!” I whirl around and shout. I don’t get another word out before tears spill over my cheeks.
Immediately, Beck reaches for my hands.
“Okay, okay,” he starts, wiping away as many tears as he can. “Go to your brother’s and call me later. We can finish this after we have both had a moment to breathe. I don’t want one of us saying something we don’t mean.”
He kisses my forehead again, and then I turn for the car, all the while knowing that I won’t call him later.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
BECK
I’m going to be sick.
If it isn’t from the fact that Calla still hasn’t called me, it’s because of the papers sitting on my passenger seat.
Divorce papers.
Not signed, to be clear. I didn’t sign them, but I got them. For her. Because as far as I know that’s still what she wants. I just want her to be happy. I’ll do anything, even this, if that’s what it takes.
