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"But Emma—" She looked toward the hall, her face paling. I knew the questions going through her head. Truthfully, they'd been the same questions I had when Meredith first told me.
"Is mine," I said firmly. "She'smychild." Reagan's throat bobbed as she swallowed, nodding slightly, her eyes glazed.
"So, you got married because she was pregnant," she muttered. "Not because you loved her." I ran my hand through my hair before grabbing the bottle and taking another pull. I was drinking too much. I knew it, but I couldn't stop.
"I did love her," I said softly. "I loved that she gave me Emma. And I loved her independence. I didn't want someone needy, you know? I wanted to live my life while she lived hers. But maybe that was a mistake."
I stared at the wall, remembering all the times I'd bragged to my friends about Meredith leaving me the fuck alone, or that when I needed to fuck, she never complained. I thought it was a flex that my wife had her own life and never nagged me, or hounded me, or did anything to insert herself into my life.
Now, I think it was because she didn't care. Maybe I should've tried harder to weave our lives together. I should've tried harder to make us feel like a married couple and not roommates that occasionally fucked.
When Reagan said nothing, I shifted my eyes to her, finding her staring at the bottle in her hand. She looked sad. For Meredith? It was probably a lot, finding out that your older sister was in a loveless marriage.
I couldn't stand the look on her face. I just wanted it to go away. I wanted to make it better.
"It wasn't all bad," I blurted. "We used to have pizza nights a few times a month to catch up. You know, to reconnect." I shrugged. "I always looked forward to those nights. We felt like a real family." Reagan lifted her eyes, and the tears in them gutted me. "Please don't cry. I promise I treated her well. I wasn't mean—I mean, okay, I was sometimes a dick, but not intentionally. And it was only when she'd been drinking and said—"
"I always looked up to you," she said, cutting me off. The words died on my lips. "I always wanted a family like yours. I thought you were perfect. Of course, you were perfect. Meredith didn't have anything unless it was perfect."
"We weren't perfect, Rae," I murmured. "We were so far from perfect it's not even funny. So was Meredith." I scooted closer to her on the couch, and, surprisingly, she didn't retreat.
"I wanted a husband like you," she said, her voice choked. "And a baby like Emma. And a life like Meredith's. I—I don't even know what to think right now."
"Trust me," I laughed softly, "you can do much better than me." She shook her head, using the edge of her hand to wipe roughly at her cheek. I didn't understand why she was crying.
I stopped close enough to touch her, but far enough away to be appropriate. I knew I wouldn't be able to stomach the regret in the morning if I touched her again.
Touched her beyond the comforting hand I placed on her bare thigh.
She stared at my hand, her chin quivering. I wanted to force her to look at me, to smooth my thumb over her cheek, over her chin, to stop her from being sad. I just...I just wanted her to smile. To laugh. To do anything other than fucking cry.
"We were mostly happy," I told her, trying to soothe whatever ache she felt. "She was happy. But the last few years, things started getting..." I sighed as I trailed off. I didn't know how to explain it. "Meredith was barely ever home, and when she was, we fought constantly. She was drinking more, and even before she admitted to cheating, I knew there was someone else. And I don't blame her. I don't blame her for finding someone who could make her happy. I couldn't be what she needed. I wish she would've waited until after we were separated to start a relationship with him—"
"Who was it?" Reagan asked, and my hand tightened.
"I don't know." She stared at me, her eyes wide and glassy. "She never told me his name, and I never dug. I didn't want to know."
"But what if it's someone you know?" she asked, and I shrugged.
"It probably is," I sighed. "But I don't want to know." She stared at me for a long moment. "It's one thing knowing she was fucking someone else, it's another putting a face to him. I don't want to know. And even if our marriage was complete bullshit, I still loved her. I still do. I always will. It hurt to know that she was cheating on me, Rae. I didn't take it lightly. It fucked me up—itstillfucks me up."
That was the truth. I'd never told anyone this, never told anyone about the cheating or how it affected me. I never told them that our marriage was complete shit, and I never told them that we were getting divorced. And after she died, it felt weird to start airing out our dirty laundry now, when she couldn't defend herself.
"We should go to bed," I finally said, squeezing her thigh again. Her smooth, cool hand slid over mine, and she wrapped her fingers around mine.
Come to bed with me,I wanted to say, but didn't. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her to hold me. I just wanted someone in my arms to force the demons I knew would come away.
"I'm sorry, Elliot," she murmured. "You deserved better." I stared at her as she gave my hand a small, gentle squeeze, then stood, my hand falling to my side. She strode to the kitchen, and I listened to the soft sounds of her putting the bottle away.
She didn't say another word as she passed me and made her way down the hall to her room. Her door softly clicked shut, and I finally let out a breath.
Maybe I didn't need to give up drinking. Maybe I needed to start drinking more.
14
reagan
I didn't wantsomeone needy.
