Chapter 150
Ethan
My wife steps outside.
Still in her yellow dress.
Still looking beautiful.
Looking unharmed.
My racing pulse calms. Just a little. And I exhale. “You’re not hurt?”
Tilda presses her lips together, but she doesn’t answer.
“I thought maybe…” My steps slow, and I stop an arm’s length away at the bottom of the two steps.
The energy is off. Her energy is off.
Different.
“Tilda?”
The sunset is vibrant.
Burning orange glows around us.
And it masked it.
Made it so I didn’t notice.
Her eyes…
She’s been crying.
“What happened?” The words taste like that phone call.
They taste like doom.
And when Tilda swallows.
When she works to keep her composure.
I know…
I know this is going to hurt.
“I found the letter,” she whispers. And I hear every word. But I don’t understand.
“What letter?” I whisper back.
And the look she gives me… is disappointment.
I swallow, knowing I’m failing. But…
“What letter, Tilda?”
She lifts her hands that were hidden by her skirt, holding out two things.
I take the first item.
A glasses case.
The aviators.
The ones she’s had since she first sat in my copilot seat.
And my heart feels suddenly too heavy. Like it’s turned to stone.
It feels like it can’t beat anymore.
“Why are you…?”
Then I see the second item.
It trembles in her grip. So I take it.
The piece of paper.
No.
It can’t be.
I threw this away.
“I need you to promise me one more thing.” Tilda’s voice cracks as she repeats the words Jack wrote to me. “You’ll let me find someone else to marry before we tell the lawyer it’s over.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, Tilda. Don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything, Ethan. Nothing will change for you.”
My breath claws at my throat. “Nothing? You’re not marrying anyone else. This isn’t—”
I start to take a step closer, but Tilda holds her hands up.
Stopping me.
A crack forms through the stone of my heart.
She stopped me.
“It’s all I’m going to ask of you.” She tries to smile.
Matilda tries to fucking smile as tears spill down her cheeks.
And it’s just like that first time.
Just like that first fucking time.
“Please…”
Please don’t cry.
Please let me explain.
Please don’t treat me like I’m the stranger you met. Right here. Months ago.
“I don’t care about the money. I know I should’ve told you.” I try to keep my voice even. Try to fight down the panic. Try to prevent the doom. “I threw that letter away. I don’t know how…”
“It was under the couch.” Tilda lowers her hands and twists her fingers in her dress. “Throwing it away wouldn’t stop the deposit.”
I crumple the letter in my fist. “I don’t care about the money. I… I haven’t thought about it in weeks. I was going to call the lawyer. Cancel it. I never wanted it.”
“Did you?” I can see the hope flicker in her eyes. “Did you cancel the payment?”
And fuck. I want to lie.
I want to lie so fucking bad.
But I can’t.
Not to her.
I slowly shake my head, watching in real time as I break the rest of her heart. “Starlight…”
“Did the letter arrive on time? Did you get it before Vegas?” More tears roll down her cheeks. “Before our wedding? Before… th-that night?”
She’s so still.
So quiet.
But her eyes give her away.
They’re filled with so much fucking pain.
“I…”
“Yes or no, Ethan.”
Doom defeats panic. And sadness coats my skin.
She’s asking me if I knew about the money before we had sex.
And I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself more than I do right now.
It wasn’t like that.
I didn’t think of the money once.
It had nothing to do with us.
But that’s not the question she’s asking.
And that’s not the answer she wants.
So I give her the truth. “Yes.”
She blinks, releasing more tears.
And they’re my fault.
Each and every one.
Her fragile, fake smile finally breaks. “Okay.” She nods. “Okay.”
“It’s not okay.” The words drag across my tongue. “I haven’t been staying for the money. I don’t need the fucking money, Matilda. I’ve told you before. I have my own.”
She lifts a shoulder. “You need to fix your plane.”
I shake my head. “I already have a new one. It’s done. Without this money.” I lift the crumpled paper.
She stares at me. And I know she doesn’t believe me.
Because I didn’t tell her.
I knew the idea of flying still scared her, so I didn’t tell her.
“That day I had to go sign paperwork at the hangar. It was paperwork for my new plane. It was delivered that day.” I plead for her to understand. “Please believe me.”
“I want to.”
“But you don’t.” Pain streaks through my chest. And that crack in my heart expands. Bits of stone chipping away.
It fucking hurts that she doesn’t believe me.
That she thinks I’d use her. Sleep with her. Spend so much time with her. For money.
It hurts that she doesn’t give me the benefit of the doubt.
But why would she?
That fucking letter.
The fucking letter that makes me like everyone else she knows.
All the people in that lawyer’s office.
Her reaction the first time we met. When she asked if her cousin sent me.
To shoot her.
Because he threatened to kill her over money.
It’s always been about money.
The betrayals.
The verbal abuse.
The fear.
For Tilda, her abuse has always been about money.
And now… I’m just another person in that line.
Another person who hurt her for dollars.
“I know I’m being a hypocrite. Money is the reason we got married in the first place.” Her words are quiet as she shakes her head.
“That’s not… I don’t want the money. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” My voice breaks.
“You could’ve told me. There were so many times you could’ve told me the truth.” Her composure finally cracks, and more tears pour from her eyes. “But you didn’t. You never said anything.” She takes a step back. Into the doorway. “Two weeks, Ethan.”
“Tilda.”
She takes another step back. Into the house. “Tomorrow morning… I was going to tell you I love you.”
My shoulders sag as my heart breaks in half. “Matilda.”
“But I found the letter instead.” She takes another step back.
“Starlight.”
“And now I’m not your problem anymore.”
She shuts the door.
And turns the lock.
And it’s exactly like that phone call.
Something inside me dies.
And it’s exactly like that fucking phone call.