Chapter 32
Baylor
“Why do you ask that?” Feigning innocence was never a strong suit. Although it feels justified since I walked out of the sunshine and right into the dark of a situation. I’m going to need some guidance to find my way out.
With her arms crossed over her chest, Lauralee’s fingers dig into her skin, whitening the tips. This isn’t looking good for me. “Baylor, what have you done?”
I foolishly glance at the door like I entered the wrong apartment. “I was gone for two minutes. What did I miss?”
She reaches for a letter on the stack of mail behind her and rattles it in the air. “Please tell me you aren’t Greene Ventures.” Her voice is steady but too controlled, as if it could go off the rails at any moment.
Fuck.
Keeping my voice as composed as I can, I set the manila envelope on the coffee table, and reply, “I can’t tell you that, but I can say that?—”
“You raised my rent?” Beelining to the other side of the room, she smashes the paper to my chest when she pa sses, putting as much distance as she can between us. Five feet wasn’t enough, I guess. “You were behind this all along.”
Taking the paper, I glance down, but then tell her, “I was cleaning up a mess I didn’t intend to happen?—”
“Everything is always good intentions with you, isn’t it? Yet I’m always on the negative receiving end of it.”
“It seems that way, but it’s not plan?—”
“My God, Baylor. Where does it end?” she shouts, the words cutting like a razor.
I take a breath, but it doesn’t calm my heart thudding in my chest, knowing I’m in trouble here. “It was ending today. I promise. That’s what I was trying to tell you.” I point at the envelope on the table between us. “That’s what this is. The end of it.”
She takes a deep breath, but no exhale follows. Instead, her shoulders rattle with a sob that breaks my heart as much as I’ve broken hers. “Please, Lauralee. I promise?—”
“Your promises no longer mean anything. You dole them out like candy and still expect me to believe you after breaking every one of them.”
When she turns her back to me, I worry there’s no changing her mind about anything other than what she’s already convinced herself. But I won’t give up. Not on her. Not ever. In my fool’s heart, I still believe we can find a way back to happiness.
“I’m telling you the truth. I took my eye off the ball, thinking the company would manage the building and not make decisions they were never given permission to do. I know you don’t want to hear explanations from me, but please, I beg you to give me the chance to clear this up.”
She turns back abruptly, hitting me with a glare that could melt ice.
“I’m not one of your clients, Baylor, or some woman you’ve picked up for the night.
” Her tongue is sharp and poised to deepen the wound, causing me to brace for what’s coming next.
Though I deserve to hear it. I deserve to feel the cuts.
I want them if she doesn’t have to go through it.
She crosses her arms over her chest again as if she needs something to hold. “Your bullshit doesn’t fly with me.”
The accusation breaks the dam. Pointing at the floor, I grit, “I don’t bullshit my clients, and no other woman interests me. Only you. It’s only been you since the first time I walked through that door.”
Throwing her arms up, she rolls her eyes.
“Oh my god, it doesn’t matter. Those women don’t, but I thought I did.
I’m your wife who stood with you and said I do.
I betrayed myself for believing I was different.
” Her tears spill over the levee of her lower lids as her voice cracks.
“You still chose to lie to me like I wasn’t. ”
“I didn’t lie about the rent.”
“You lied about the building. You lied about the bet. If lying is your love language, I want no part of it.” Her anger wanes, curling her shoulders forward as if the weight is unbearable. “I thought you cared about me.”
My insides are shredded, but seeing her in so much pain rips my heart out. “I do. I care about you more than anything.”
“Your actions show otherwise.” Her tone turns self-righteous as she raises her chin, removing the privilege of her gaze.
“What am I supposed to believe? Your words or your actions because they don’t align.
” She starts for the bedroom, but I cut her off.
I’m not going to fight with her with a door between us.
“Don’t walk away with this unresolved.”
“It’s resolved. You made su re of it.” She turns away from me, her gaze darting to the door like she’s going to outmaneuver a former quarterback. But then she says, “Please move, Baylor.”
Reasoning doesn’t work, and the spiraling drags us further apart in this argument. I’m not leaving until we’ve said all there is to say. “No. I’m not letting you walk away this time.”
That glare strikes like wildfire, ready to burn me to the ground. “Let me?” Her hand plants on her hip, a sign that I really fucked up this time. “Married or not, you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t. I don’t need your permission to leave. I can walk away anytime I please.”
She doesn’t move. Despite the threat, she holds her ground, not showing an ounce of weakness. She’s stunning in her independence, making me wonder if she’ll ever let me back in. “Don’t you see? That’s what you do. You walk away when you feel the slightest discomfort.”
“Discomfort?” She scoffs at me.
Not deterred, I say, “You leave?—”
“To save myself the pain of being abandoned by you. We both know it will happen sooner or later, so I protect myself from . . .” She closes her mouth just before crossing a line we both know might be a step too far to come back from.
It doesn’t need to be said out loud. Although I already know the ending, that doesn’t lessen the damage done. “From me?”
The fire in her eyes doesn’t burn as bright as it did, and another emotion gets its footing. It’s not as harsh, but it’s still not forgiving. I don’t recognize who she is, and I’m starting to believe that I may not be able to save us. If we can’t talk, we have nothing left to give.
Because I need to hear it, I place the final nail for her to hammer home, and ask again, “Are you protecting y ourself from me, Lauralee?”
Her hand falls to her side as the other fidgets with the hem of her shirt.
Shifting her weight, her eyes stay focused on the floor between us.
She whispers, “I’m protecting myself from everyone.
” She finally looks at me. “If I leave first, I can’t blame anyone else.
It makes it a lot easier to sleep at night knowing I broke my own heart instead of placing the blame elsewhere. ”
“Who hurt you?”
“Please.” Stifling a sob, she rubs her brow in a sudden motion. I think it’s to hide her eyes so I don’t see the tears, though I can hear them in her voice. “It’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
“I don’t want to talk about my father,” she replies, raising her voice again. “You know he left me!”
“And I’m right here because I’m not him.”
“You’re right. He had the courtesy of walking out without a word instead of lying to me.”
“You can push me away, but I’ll be here through the highs and the lows.
I’ll be here when you finally realize I married you for love.
Not a damn rental agreement or loan. I married you, Lauralee, because I’m so fucking in love with you that I can’t live life without you in it.
” Shock overwhelms her, widening her eyes and causing her head to jut back on her neck.
“And here’s the kicker, Shortcake.” I lean down, making sure our eyes are padlocked together, and say, “I know that’s why you married me, too.
Though you do a much better job of lying to yourself than you accuse me of doing.
” I step aside, giving her the room to make her own decision and go where she pleases, even if that means putting a door between us.
Tears saturate her pretty browns before she looks at the bedroom door like it’s her savior. Her feet stay in p lace, though her breath staggers as she looks back at me with conflict in the lines of her forehead.
I wish I wasn’t a debate to her, but I’ve lost her trust. I can only work to earn it back from here. If she gives me the chance.
I say, “I’m not going anywhere. You can push me away all you want, but I’ll still be here waiting for you to return. Hoping you do one day.”
Her lips part just enough to take in a bigger breath, but then she shakes her head. “What if it takes a lifetime?”
“I’ll wait.”
I can’t handle the silence she finds comfort in.
Each passing second is a painful reminder of my misdeeds and how I ruined everything.
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I need to feel what I’ve done to make sure it never happens again.
“I’m sorry.” The ache is astounding, my hand covering my chest as it splits wide open.
“I was doing what I thought was right. I was making an effort to correct my mistakes. I’m sorry you have to suffer because of it, because of me.
I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner.
” I glance at the large envelope on the coffee table again. “I swear it’s all in there.”
Her eyes chase mine, but when they return, it’s not anger I see despite it streaming through her tone earlier. It’s disappointment, which makes it worse. This cycle is too vicious to break. I’m losing her. I can feel it.
With nowhere left to go and my own tears clouding my vision, I drop to my knees in front of her. “I don’t want to lose you. I swear on my life I was fixing this mess from the moment I found out.”
“Lowering the rent would have been a lot simpler because fixing one problem doesn’t negate the anguish you’ve put me through.” Impatience quickens her response, “It also doesn’t explain why you married me either. ”
“For love,” I reply, still holding on to hope like a lifeline to save us both from drowning in the pain.
“I wasn’t asking for love. I was asking for a marriage to help with a loan to save my business.” Like a spear to the heart . . . But her breathing picks up, and she struggles to control the upset in her tone. “So much damage has been done that could have been avoided. Mistakes?—”
“We weren’t a mistake.”
Turning off her emotions as fast as a faucet, her expression turns indifferent.
“I’m asking for time because I’m too tired to fight with you anymore.
” She releases a heavy sigh. “Please. I need time. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I need to sort through this without the pressure of you wanting everything to be normal again.
If you give me nothing else, will you give me that? ”
Every fiber of my being screams to fight harder, but her own mask is fully intact and nothing I say will remove it. I’ll only cause her more pain. I’m not giving up, but it’s no longer about me. I need to do what’s best for her. So I’ll give her the time requested because she needs it.
There’s no talking her out of the decision and I shouldn’t anyway.
It won’t serve either of us in the end. I bow my head in defeat and move back into the bathroom to put on my shirt.
Carrying my shoes and socks in hand, I return to the living room, stopping just shy of the door.
I’m so tempted to look back once more, to take her in and lock the image in my memories.
I don’t because I also need to believe I’ll see her again.
Opening the door, the sun has dipped below the tree line on the far side of the parking lot. I stand in the shadows of the tall cypress and oaks, and say, “I’ll always be here for you, Shortcake.”
I shut the door behind me, a barrier now between us until she removes it. Our lives and love are now in her hands. I can only pray that we find our way back together again.