To be even more clear, it’s not what I want. Not even close.
I just have no idea how to reach her. To talk to her. She won’t answer my calls, and she won’t send messages back through her brother. Yes, that’s how desperate I’ve been to contact her. It’s been the longest two weeks of my life.
Big fat silence is all I’ve got. I could wait, give her more time, but if I can’t get through to her now, I never will.
So, yeah, the papers are my last-ditch effort to communicate.
I glance over at the manilla envelope that haunts me and then to the smaller white one on top. The one that has an application for a new driver’s license. For her birthday, I’d added her name to all the bills for the house. Nothing was ready on her actual birthday, but she’d need proof to get a new license with her new address and new last name. I even filled out everything on the application for her. All she needs to do is sign it. It was a silly way for me to re-propose, I guess.
Heat creeps up my neck. I’m about to give her both things and pray to god she picks the application.
Picks us.
I pull into Simon’s driveaway, and the door opens before I make it up the walkway.
“Hey,” I say and Calla sighs, leaning into the doorway. “I know you don’t want to see me, but I”—fuck, this is hard—“I…”
I can’t bring myself to say the words, so I hold up the folder.
“Oh,” she says. “Do you want to come in?”
“Yes,” I say before she can change her mind.
I follow her into the kitchen. Every cabinet and every drawer is open, and all the plates, cups, dry food, and more cover the counters.
“I’m reorganizing Simon’s kitchen. It was horrendous.”
“Yeah, I believe it. He mentioned that you signed that contract with the real estate agent. That’s great.”
“Thanks. Do you want anything to drink?” she asks. Her tone is light, and everything is the opposite from when I spoke with her last. Maybe, just maybe, this is my chance. Only one way to find out.
“Yeah, water is great. Are you baking too?”
“I am,” she says and glances at the stove. “The first batch is almost done.”
I move closer to her and grab a spoon that’s on display. Then I swipe a scoop of dough. I’ve barely put it in my mouth before she swats my hand away and steals the spoon.
“Don’t,” she says and then looks at the bowl. She does exactly as I did. “Great, now I won’t be able to stop.”
I chuckle and she smiles, her eyes drifting to the bigger envelope.
“You don’t have to sign it,” I say, skipping right to the point. “We don’t have to do this. We can stay married and fix this. I can fix this. I know I messed up by keeping things from you, but I… need you. I want you in my life, Calla. Forever.”
“Beck, I—”
“Don’t say anything right now, okay? I don’t want you to feel like you have to decide right here and right now because I’m standing in front of you confessing my love to you. I love you so much, Calla, it hurts when you aren’t near me. I only ask that you just think about it.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
I set the large yellow envelope with the divorce papers down, followed by one with the application, and finally a smaller one, the one that has the letter I wrote her. I’ll say what I need to say before I walk out her door, but words and paper are really where I do my best work.
“All these envelopes mean something. I love you more than anything in this world, Calla, but I want you to choose us because that’s what you want. Not because we signed some papers one night in Vegas. I can’t promise I won’t mess up again, but I want that chance because being without you is like knowing I’ll never eat again. It hurts like hell.
“The biggest envelope is the obvious but promise me you’ll look at the other one before you sign those papers. You might not feel like what happened between us was right, but I can assure you, Calla, marrying you that night in Vegas was the right choice. Let me prove it to you.”
She started crying somewhere during my confession, but she never moved away from me. The urge to pull her close is strong, but I’m not sure if that’s—fuck it. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and hold her tight.
“I didn’t come here with the intention of making you cry, baby, I swear it. I only wanted to make sure you know exactly where I stand.”
