Page 42 of It Should Have Been You

“We weren’t sure what you were going to do with his shares, and we didn’t know if you would want anything in there.”

I think about it: going in there, pressing my palms to his desk. But he’s already in everything I do, every step I take, in each breath. He’s in my daughter’s hazel eyes.

His ghost is suffocating enough.

My pulse echoes behind my ears, and fear makes my hands tremble. My legs twitch with the need to run in the opposite direction. I shouldn’t go there. I should leave. There’s nothing for me here.

I shouldn’t do this, but I do. I put one foot in front of the other and into the mouth of the dragon. There’s a part of me that wants to face it, face him, even when he won’t be there. I need to know his ghost won’t kill me.

Mathew opens the door, and I’m tossed back in time. I’m shaking so much my teeth chatter.

“I’ll give you a minute.” I hear him say, but my eyes are still closed.

When I open them, I’m back. He’s not here, and there’s a pinch in my chest. It’s foreign. Unwelcomed. It’s not for the loss of him. It’s for the loss of who I thought he was going to be when I stepped inside an office like this for the first time.

There are no dust particles in the air despite the time it’s been unoccupied. It’s surprisingly clean. His desk is polished, the blue skies reflecting against it from the floor to ceiling windows.

I hold my breath and take a large step inside.

It smells… different.

His cologne no longer lingers in the air. The floors are freshly vacuumed, every picture frame centered to perfection.

I round his desk. There’s a photo of all of us, and a single picture of me. I look happy. We were on vacation, and it was our first day at the beach. My hair is blowing in my face, my swimsuit hidden beneath a cover-up. The large sunglasses are hiding the fading bruise around my left eye.

“You can’t be in here.”

My head snaps up to see a young woman I recognize standing in the doorway, her hand already on the door handle. Her face drops when she sees me, her mouth falling open.

“Beth?” she breathes, steadying herself on her feet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. Forget I was here.” She attempts to rush away.

“Charlie.”

She stops and drops her head. I can’t blame her for not wanting to face me.

She followed him here from London, and I knew it.

I was such a fool.

Old habits take hold, and no matter how hard I try to fight it, bitterness clogs my throat. I drink her in like I’ve done so many times before. I memorized her so I could stand in front of the mirror and compare everything she had to what I didn’t. Black hair cut in a sharp angle. Her eyes are a deep grey. There’s no c-section pouch under her skirt.

She’s beautiful and despite her having slept with my husband, I always liked her.

He betrayed me, not Charlie.

But for years I was jealous of her because he gave her all his passion and she took it. I was left with the scraps and scars.

I’m surprised when the bitterness falls away and I feel nothing. Maybe a little pity, but I bat that away too because I hate when people pity me. She deserves the same consideration.

I’m sure she was trapped in his web. And me and Charlie… we weren’t the only ones.

When she steps inside, her perfume is familiar. It clung to his clothes most nights. But I’m not angry with her. I fell for his charms too.

Her eyes water, her bottom lip wobbling as she drinks in the office. Her memories replay on her face just like mine. The difference between Charlie and me? She’s mourning.

I take a step towards her. “Can I ask you something?”

Swallowing back her nerves, she dips her head and agrees.

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