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A menacing laugh escapes her lips. “For the last four years, I’ve dedicated my life to you and Masen. Who dedicates their life to me? Certainly not you…” she pauses, each word cutting through me like a sharp knife. “I’ve lost who I am. I want to feel alive again.”
“And you think you need Cassandra to do that?” I bark.
“Leave her out of this.”
“Leave her out of this?” I jump to my feet, my guitar tumbling to the patio deck as the anger consumes me, my fist pounding against my thighs. “She’s the fucking reason why you won’t let me touch you anymore. I can’t believe I’m even saying this.”
“And I can’t believe how closeminded you are,” she fires back. “Actually, yes, I can. Probably one of the reasons you hid Eloise’s return from me.”
This is beyond Eloise, and I refuse for Presley to use that as an excuse. She knows I would never lay a finger on another woman.
“So that’s it. You’re just going to take off to God knows where to do what, Presley? Get drunk and party like you’re in college?”
This is the breaking point. I’m blinded by a serving of rage, only tasting bitterness toward them. Every word she mouths stings, fueling the fire burning inside of me.
I didn’t think we were beyond broken.
Until her eyes lift, and her stare is anything but loving.
I’m not staring at the woman I love. She is lost, possessed by this beast who actively wants to destroy us.
I want to save her.
I want to bring her back to me.
But I’m crippled by the shattering of my heart, watching it fall to a million pieces in one cold stare.
“No, Haden,” she says, falling into a momentary digestive silence. “To think about if I still want to be in this marriage.”
Eighteen
Presley
As the plane lands on the tarmac, my heart splutters a ray of mixed emotions.
It has been almost two years since I have been to the city, and even then, it was with Haden and Masen to visit Elizabeth during her breast-cancer scare.
In those two years, I have grown accustomed to the California lifestyle—sprawling homes, the quiet sounds of birds chirping in the morning as I sit outside on our patio, waiting for the fog to lift to bask in the sunlight. The ocean is only a short drive away, but all in all, it is the constant feeling of open space, unlike Manhattan.
When I graduated from college and purchased my one-way bus ticket to Manhattan, I was a young girl full of hopes and dreams. I had a long list of places I wanted to explore, get to know, fall in love with, and my youthful self didn’t care about anything else.
I couldn’t recall the countless hours spent daydreaming, stemming from movies I watched as a child such as Home Alone 2 and one of Mom’s favorites, Working Girl. I imagined a place full of endless possibilities, a naïve Presley wanted to experience that with my then-boyfriend, Kyle.
He never showed up at the train station that day, yet even with a bruised ego, I hopped on that train ready for the next stage of my life. I wasn’t prepared for what would happen next.
New York stole my heart—it was an act of thievery.
I couldn’t and refused to see a world outside the island. I was young and foolish, self-absorbed at the best of times. If I could make something of myself in a city where millions of people hustled every day, then I had accomplished my ultimate dream.
And as I sit here waiting to exit, all those thoughts swirl in my head. I welcome it, though. It distracts me from the heartbreaking conversation last night with Haden, to the difficult goodbye as I dropped Masen off at Gemma’s house.
Four days to myself.
Ninety-six hours to decide whether or not I stay in our marriage.
The departure from the plane is quick and easy. Sandy and I didn’t check-in our bags, wheeling our small carry-ons through the terminal. Outside, we wait for a cab to pull up, hopping in for the ride over to Midtown.
It is just after nine, and as the darkness falls upon the sky, ahead of us is a city of skyscrapers and lights. It’s beautiful and mesmerizing. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until it’s in my sight.
