21. Audrey
— ? —
Audrey
The storm rolls in like a punishment.
I watch it through the rental window - black clouds swallowing the horizon, wind whipping the bare trees into a frenzy - and something in me snaps.
Tomorrow, everyone knows. Tomorrow, Maryse’s screenshots go live and every person in Miller’s Point reads my husband’s words to another woman. Tomorrow, the fragile thing we’ve been building gets dragged into the light and torn apart by strangers.
And I can’t be here when it happens. I can’t sit in this cramped space with Rowan’s hollow eyes following me, with the weight of tomorrow pressing down on my chest, without knowing - really knowing - if what we’ve rebuilt is real.
I grab my keys.
“Audrey-” Rowan starts.
“Don’t follow me.”
“Where are you going? There’s a storm-”
“I said don’t follow me.”
I’m out the door before he can respond, into the wind and the first fat drops of rain, into my car that smells like stale coffee and broken promises. The engine turns over and I’m moving, driving without destination, letting the storm guide me.
I end up at Miller’s Point.
Of course I do.
The cliff overlook sits at the end of a narrow road, perched above the churning Atlantic like a dare. This is where Rowan first kissed me at seventeen, both of us shivering in the September wind, too nervous to do anything but press our mouths together and hope we were doing it right.
This is where he proposed at twenty-three, dropping to one knee with shaking hands and a ring he’d saved three years to buy.
This is where I thought we’d always return - the place where our story began, the place that meant forever.
Now it feels like a test. One more test before everything goes public.
I get out of the car and let the storm hit me.
Rain soaks through my jacket in seconds, plastering my hair to my face, stinging my eyes. The wind screams off the water, loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. I walk to the edge of the cliff and stare down at the waves crashing against the rocks below.
Tomorrow, everyone knows.
The thought keeps circling, a shark in dark water.
Every parent at Lily’s school. Every customer at Rowan’s job sites. Every person at Ruth’s harvest party. They’ll all read those messages and look at me with pity and wonder why I stayed.
The rain is freezing, but I don’t move. I stand at the edge and let myself feel everything - the fear, the doubt, the desperate need to know if what we’ve been building can survive what’s coming.
He told me about Boston himself. He chose honesty when he could have kept hiding.
But is that enough? Is anything enough?
I hear the truck before I see it. The familiar rumble of Rowan’s engine cutting through the storm.
I told him not to follow.
Headlights sweep across the clearing. The engine cuts. A door slams.
“Audrey!”
I don’t turn around.
“Audrey, what the hell are you doing?” His voice is ragged, fighting to be heard over the wind. “It’s dangerous up here - the cliff edge isn’t stable in weather like this-”
“Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He’s beside me now, rain streaming down his face, and he looks as wrecked as I feel. “Not until you talk to me.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Then scream at me. Hit me. I don’t care.” He grabs my arm, turns me to face him. “But I’m not leaving you up here alone in a storm.”
“Why not?” I wrench my arm free. “Tomorrow the whole town finds out what you did. Maybe you should start practicing your exit strategy now.”
“Is that what you think? That I’m going to run?”
“I don’t know what I think anymore.” The words tear out of me, raw and desperate. “I’ve been trying so hard to believe you’ve changed. The movie night, the honesty about Boston, all of it - I wanted to believe it meant something.”
“It does mean something.”
“Does it? Or is it just another performance until things get hard again?” I’m crying now, though I can barely tell with the rain.
“Tomorrow, everyone knows. Everyone. And I need to know - before that happens, before we’re standing in front of the whole town - is this real?
Or am I going to watch you disappear the second the pressure gets too high? ”
“I’m not disappearing.” His voice cracks with intensity. “I’m right here.”
“You’re always right here until you’re not. Until you pack a bag or find someone else to text or sign divorce papers without even-”
“I told you about Boston.” He steps closer, and the desperation in his face mirrors my own. “I told you myself, Audrey. I gave you my worst secret when I could have kept it buried forever, because I’m done hiding. I’m done running.”
“Words don’t mean anything anymore!”
“Then look at what I’ve done!” He’s shouting now, fighting to be heard over the wind.
“I told you about Boston before anyone could use it against me. I let Maryse post whatever she wants because I don’t care what this town thinks - I only care what you think.
I have been sleeping on a pullout couch three feet from your door for months, making your coffee and fixing your daughter’s desk and earning my way back inch by inch because you are worth every second of it. ”
The wind screams around us. Lightning flickers on the horizon.
“Tomorrow, everyone sees those texts,” I say, my voice small against the storm. “Every word you wrote to her. Every moment you chose her over me.”
“Let them see.” His hands find my shoulders, grip tight. “Let them read every word. I wrote them. I own them. And I will stand in front of the whole town and say: I did this. I broke my wife’s heart. And then I spent every day afterward trying to put it back together.”
“What if it’s not enough? What if they look at me like I’m pathetic for staying?”
“Then they’re wrong. And we’ll know they’re wrong, because we’ll still be standing.
” His voice drops, raw and honest. “I know I don’t deserve you.
I know I’ve broken things that might never fully heal.
But I am so goddamn tired of running, Audrey.
I’m tired of being afraid. I want to stay.
I want to fight. I want to spend the rest of my life earning back what I threw away. ”
“Even if everyone’s watching?”
“Especially if everyone’s watching.” He cups my face in his scarred hands, rain running between his fingers. “Let them watch me choose you. Every day. In front of everyone. Until there’s no doubt left - not in you, not in me, not in anyone.”
I stare at him - this man I’ve loved since I was seventeen. This man who told me his worst secret before anyone could weaponize it. Who’s standing in front of me now, soaked to the bone, offering everything he has while the storm tries to tear us apart.
Is it enough?
I don’t know.
But I know I’m not ready to let go.
“Don’t forgive me,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. But let me love you anyway.”
The rain pounds down between us. Tomorrow everything goes public - and I need to know, right now, tonight, before the whole town gets a vote, whether what we’ve rebuilt can survive being seen.
“Prove it,” I say.
“How?”
“I don’t know. But I need-” My voice breaks. “I need to know this is real. Right now. Tonight. I need you to show me something I can believe in.”
He stares at me for a long moment. The storm rages. The waves crash.
Then he crosses the space between us and kisses me like the world is ending.
It’s not gentle.
His mouth is desperate on mine, hungry and fierce, and I kiss him back with all the rage and grief and longing I’ve been holding inside for months. My hands fist in his soaked jacket. His fingers tangle in my hair. We’re both shivering, both crying, both holding on like we might drown if we let go.
“Audrey,” he gasps against my lips. “Tell me to stop. If you need me to stop-”
“Don’t stop.” I pull him closer, press my body against his. “Don’t you dare stop.”
The rain pounds down around us. The cliff edge looms behind me. And I realize, with a clarity that cuts through everything else, that I don’t want careful. I don’t want measured. I want this - raw and real and desperate.
“The truck,” I say. “Now.”
He pulls back, searching my face. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the storm.