Chapter 24
BETH
It took me days to build up the courage to get a better look at what Chris was doing.
Every day I told myself that I didn’t need to know.
I tried to focus on my health, on the pregnancy, on Lisa.
And all of those things were important. But Chris was doing something I couldn’t ignore, and I knew if I didn’t see for myself what it was, my curiosity would eat at me until I could focus on nothing else.
It was inevitable, I suppose, that I would confront the mystery.
I waited until late evening, knowing the crews wouldn’t be around to work in the dark.
But as I came down the stairs, I noticed the lights still on.
And movement within the building. Lisa had already left to spend the evening at her friend’s house, leaving me to my own devices and giving me the privacy I needed.
I just wasn’t sure what to do now that it looked like someone was still working across the way.
It was my chance, though. So I put on my shoes and walked out the door.
There was a crispness to the air that told me there would likely be a frost in the morning.
I pulled my sweater around me as I crossed the road and approached the new building, sticking close to the shadows as I did.
The halogen lights gave the place an ominous glow in the darkness.
There were no sounds of machines or power tools, just someone walking around the inside of the structure.
I held my breath, afraid to be caught sneaking a look.
I ducked under the canopy of the loading bays, staying in the shadows to protect myself from being seen, and then I slipped around the back corner of the building, searching for a way inside that wouldn’t draw attention to my arrival.
There had to be some entrance I could use, even if I didn’t like the feeling that I was crossing some line.
The back door was unlocked. It cracked open as I pulled the handle, swinging open on well-oiled hinges.
There were no lights on in this section of the warehouse, though light filtered in from where the construction lighting still burned.
I could hear someone working in the distance, moving about and talking to themselves in low, rough tones.
It had to be Chris. There was no doubt in my mind, but it still seemed impossible that this could be his project.
I slipped into the building, feeling my way along the wall as I tried to move slowly and silently.
I was vaguely aware of the rooms around me, the warehouse spaces that would someday store boxes of supplies.
And there was a familiar kitchen area set off in a separate part of the structure, one that had all the necessary fixtures to be able to produce canned goods, cook food, and store perishable supplies.
I felt the tears burn behind my eyes as I realized how closely this building resembled what I had once dreamed.
And now someone was making those dreams come true, but for what reason remained a mystery.
I edged around the corner, seeing the familiar frame of my husband across the way.
But I realized it wasn’t as familiar as I had thought.
His shoulders seemed wider, his stance more grounded than I remembered.
It had to have been an optical illusion, some trick of the lighting that made him look bulkier than I remembered, more confident in his own frame than ever before.
I stood rooted to my spot, afraid to move in case my eyes deceived me.
But Chris didn’t notice me, continuing to work alone.
He moved around the open space with an ease that didn’t match the image of my husband in my mind.
There was an air of purpose about him as he worked, his movements precise and unhurried.
It was like he belonged here, in this half-built warehouse, doing manual labor in a way that defied everything I thought I knew about him.
He wasn’t the man who had sat behind a desk in some Seattle office tower, the man who preferred the world of meetings and phone calls.
This was someone new, someone I didn’t recognize at all.
Chris reached for a tool on the bench next to him, but my attention was pulled to what he was working on, not the task itself.
His hands caught the light, and I felt a sharp pang in my chest when I saw the state of them.
They were covered in cuts and blisters, raw skin peeking out beneath layers of dirt and calluses.
They looked like they had been through hell, like he had been working day and night without rest. I blinked, trying to process the sight.
My husband, who had never so much as picked up a hammer, now looked like he’d been living and breathing construction work for weeks.
He turned his head slightly, as if sensing he was being watched, and I held my breath, pressing myself against the wall to stay hidden.
My heart pounded so loudly in my ears, I was sure he’d hear it.
But his gaze passed right by me, unfocused, like his thoughts were miles away.
He didn’t seem aware of me at all. He was too consumed by whatever he was doing, too wrapped up in the task at hand to notice anything else.
What is he doing here? I asked myself, though the question felt impossible to answer.
I didn’t know what he could possibly be trying to accomplish.
He didn’t belong in a place like this, his face smudged with dust and sweat.
There was something so out of place about him here, and yet, he looked like he fit.
Like he had found some kind of peace or purpose in the physical work, even if it was tearing his body apart.
I forced myself to move, to step back before he caught sight of me.
My mind spun with confusion. Why was Chris building a place like this?
And why now, after all this time? Was this some kind of sick joke, a way to prove that he could take over any part of my life, even the dreams I had once held dear?
The idea twisted something inside me, making me feel sick.
But as I slipped through the door and out into the cold night, I knew deep down that wasn’t it.
Whatever Chris was doing, it wasn’t about mocking me.
There was something else behind this, something I wasn’t seeing yet.
It felt more desperate than spiteful, more like an apology I couldn’t begin to understand.
He had access to my journals, the ones I’d left behind, and this building, this massive structure that mirrored every line and detail from those pages, couldn’t be a coincidence.
I walked back to the diner in a daze, my mind racing with questions I didn’t know how to answer.
Chris had taken something that was mine, something private, and made it real without telling me.
He was building this place like it was for me, but he hadn’t even had the decency to speak to me about it.
Why go through all this trouble if he wasn’t going to explain it to me, if he couldn’t even look me in the eye?
My head swam with the implications, each one worse than the last. I felt a strange mix of anger and guilt twisting inside me.
I was furious that he would dare to do something like this behind my back, that he would try to fix things with grand gestures instead of just being honest. But beneath that was a growing awareness of what this might cost him, the kind of sacrifice that left him bleeding and broken, trying to bring back a version of us that might not even exist anymore.
When I got back to the diner, I locked the door behind me and sank into the nearest chair.
My body felt heavier than it should have, exhaustion settling into my bones like a weight I couldn’t shake.
My hands trembled as I rested them on the table, and I wondered if I was in shock, or just coming to terms with the fact that this situation was far more complicated than I’d ever imagined.
Chris wasn’t just here. He wasn’t just messing around.
He was doing something that changed everything, and I still didn’t understand why.
The tears came before I could stop them, and I didn’t even bother to wipe them away.
I had thought I was starting to figure out what I wanted, what I needed from him.
But tonight, all of that felt uncertain again, clouded by the sight of him in that warehouse, working like a man with nothing left to lose.
It didn’t make sense, and maybe it never would.
But one thing was clear: I couldn’t keep pretending this wasn’t happening.
Whether I wanted it or not, Chris had inserted himself back into my life, and now I had to decide what to do about it.
And the baby? My hands went to my stomach, the life inside me suddenly more present than ever.
This wasn’t just about me and Chris anymore.
There was so much more at stake now, and I didn’t know how I was going to navigate it all.
But I couldn’t keep avoiding it. I couldn’t keep pretending that seeing Chris work himself to the bone in a half-built warehouse wasn’t affecting me in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
“Damn him,” I whispered into the silence, though the words were more for me than for him. Damn him for making this so complicated, for making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.
I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling like it might hold some answers, though I knew it wouldn’t.
The only answers I was going to get would come from Chris himself.
And I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him yet.
I knew I wasn’t ready. There was too much happening.
There had been too much change. I had changed.
My situation had changed. And now he seemed to have changed, too.
But standing still wasn’t working anymore, I realized.
I’d been hiding in the safety of this town, in the rhythm of the diner, but Chris had shattered that illusion with one secret project.
Whatever he was trying to prove, whatever he thought this would accomplish, it wasn’t enough to fix us.
And it wasn’t enough for me to keep running.
Sooner or later, I was going to have to confront him.
I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion pull me under, if only for a little while.
Tomorrow, maybe, I’d figure it out. Or maybe I wouldn’t.
But tonight, I couldn’t keep going in circles.
All I could do was rest and hope that when the morning came, I’d have the strength to face whatever came next, no matter how hard it was.
“Chris,” I whispered to the empty room, “why are you here?” I wasn’t expecting an answer. There wasn’t going to be one. It wasn’t the time for me to start yelling questions at my husband who was across the road.
I got up and went down into the diner. It was clean.
I had helped clean it all with Lisa before she left.
But I started cleaning again, needing something to do while my overactive mind tried to come to terms with what I had seen and what I now knew to be true.
It didn’t matter why Chris was building this place, it was still here and it was mine.
That was the important part. Somehow, he was helping me to fulfill this dream, the dream I thought I had given up on.
I found myself standing at the window as dawn started to light up the sky.
I had lost track of time as I worked. But it didn’t matter now.
What did was that I was standing on the cusp of something that I didn’t understand.
And I wouldn’t figure it out by doing the same things over and over again.
Lisa had said Chris wanted me to come to him.
She might have been right about that. But I didn’t want him to know I had seen his hard work, his bleeding hands, and the rawness that he was trying to cover up.
I didn’t want him to think this gesture was going to erase everything else.
Maybe I would find some middle ground, a place where I could still hold onto my anger and hurt while allowing him to prove he meant the promises he was making to this community.
It was going to be a long day.