Chapter 24
Love is stupid. Love is blind.
Love is a fucking bitch!
I have the shower on full bore to block out the sound of my heart breaking ... I don’t want the boys to see me cry. I stand under the hot water as the tears run down my face. The lump in my throat is big, the hole in my heart a giant crevasse.
Where the hell did that argument come from?
I had no idea any of that was on Tristan’s agenda.
It shocked me—scared the hell out of me, if I’m honest. I get a vision of the hurt in Tristan’s eyes, and my heart drops.
What have I done?
I pushed away the only person who has my back.
Tristan.
My beautiful Tristan, the man who loves me. The one who has cared for all of us ... the man who would literally walk across fire to please me ... wants to take on my children, and I just ... can’t.
I can’t be that irresponsible and blinded by love.
Why would he want to adopt them? What benefit would it have for him?
If he’s with me, he has them.
Letting him adopt them only gives him the power to take them if he doesn’t need me anymore.
No woman in her right mind would allow a future partner to adopt her children by law. Not when they are already happy and stable. There is no reason for him to want it ... other than if we break up.
He wants legal assurance that no matter what happens between us, he will always have them.
No.
I’m sorry.
I can’t give him that.
Because I know that if we ever broke up, it would be because he cheated or did something to have caused it.
I would never do anything to end us—I love him too much.
And in that event, there is no way in hell I would be packing up my sons to go to his house every weekend to play happy family with his new girlfriend.
No woman would ever agree to this. No matter how in love she was. No matter who the man was ... no matter what her sons wanted.
I screw up my face in tears when I picture their broken little faces as he drove off.
You did the right thing, whispers my conscience.
“Did I?” I reply. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”
My shoulders rack with sobs; I have this sick, heavy, fucked-up lead ball in my stomach. I want to throw up or run away, and I want to go to him ... but I can’t do any of those things.
I stand for a long time under the hot water. With every minute that passes, along comes a little more guilt.
The vile taste runs through my bloodstream like poison. I’m sickened by what I said to him this afternoon, mortified that I could be so cold and hurtful. He’s only ever loved us.
“I feel like I betrayed my best friend.” I see the tears in his eyes when I said those horrible things, and I cry harder.
“Oh God, I’m done with this stress. Why is nothing damn easy with me?” I sob. “Why does everything have to be so fucking hard?”
I want to live in this house with my boys ... and Tristan.
That’s it. Nothing fancy, nothing different.
Why does he want things to change? It doesn’t have to be like this.
The boys aren’t talking to me. They’re all in their bedrooms, the house is quiet and sad, and I know Tristan is alone and heartbroken in his apartment.
I slide down the wall and sit on the hard, cold tiles. I roll into a ball to try to protect myself from the pain.
But there is no antidote for this situation ... I’m going to lose him.
Maybe I did already.
Sadness is heavy. Sadness is still.
I lie in the darkness and watch the time tick by: 11:53 p.m.
My mind goes to my beautiful man. What’s he doing?
I can’t do this. I can’t lie here and do nothing.
I have to try to fix this. I can’t go to sleep without speaking to him. I lean over and grab my phone from the side table and dial his number. My heart beats nervously as I wait for him to pick up.
It stops ringing ... he declined the call.
My stomach sinks.
He’s never rejected a call from me ... ever.
I think for a moment, and I text.
I’m sorry about today,
I don’t know what happened.
It spiraled out of control.
I’ll call you tomorrow.
Goodnight,
I love you.
xoxo
I watch and see the read symbol come up. I smile ... he saw it.
I wait as I hold my breath.
“Reply,” I whisper. I hold my breath as I wait.
Nothing.
I watch and watch ... and wait.
My eyes fill with tears. “Reply, baby.”
But he doesn’t, and I know he’s not going to.
My heart drops to a new low, and the tears come hard and fast.
I’ve ruined everything.
I sit and stare at the figures on my computer, trying to miraculously find an extra $200,000.
I’ve sold our holiday home, I’ve sold all of our shares. Everything that Wade and I accumulated in our time together is gone.
And now to keep the man I love, I’m expected to hand his children over as well.
That’s an unfair request. Surely Tristan must know that. How can he not see my point?
I feel like there’s this big black cloud hanging over me and that I’ll never truly be happy.
I must have been bad in my last life, because I feel like I’m being punished for something. I’ve loved two men in my life. One I lost to death.
The other ...
I rest my hand under my chin and stare into space, wondering if I could have handled yesterday better.
There’s no question I could have.
But ... I stand by what I said. I don’t want anyone to adopt my boys. I won’t give over that power to someone else.
Even if that someone is the love of my life. It’s not just Tristan—this isn’t personal. This is sensible.
They are Wade’s sons. They will always be Wade’s sons.
My every instinct is telling me this is something that I should never do.
Always trust your gut.
A message comes through on my phone. It’s from Tristan.
Can we talk?
Relief fills me. I write back.
Please.
He replies.
Our hotel,
1pm.
I smile, hopeful.
See you then.
I love you.
xoxox
At one o’clock I hold my breath as I walk into the foyer of our hotel. We’ve been here many times before. Always in excitement.
Today it’s in dread.
Tristan stands over near the elevator, and my stomach flutters when I see him wearing his power suit and standing the way he does, straight and proud.
I know that if he really wants something, it’s nonnegotiable.
“Hi.” I smile.
“Hello.” He dips his head, and in that moment fear runs through me.
He’s not going to let this go.
I’m going to lose him.
We get into the elevator and ride up to our floor in silence.
Oh my God ... no. Don’t let this happen.
I stand behind him silently as he opens the door, and I walk in and take a seat on the bed.
He closes the door and walks straight to the bar and pours himself a scotch. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
In slow motion he sips his scotch. His eyes hold mine.
“Tristan ... what I said yesterday—”
“Yes,” he cuts me off. “Let’s talk about that.”
Nerves begin to thump in my chest. “You need to understand where I am coming from. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” I pause.
“But?”
“But I made promises to my first husband. These children are his, and I need to honor his wishes.”
He clenches his jaw; his eyes hold mine.
“We decided to live in that house for a reason.”
“Such as?”
I smile, grateful that he’s at least listening to me.
“Wade wanted that house. We could have afforded better, but he wanted that house. He wanted the boys to grow up in Long Island.”
He stares at me, and I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“He wanted the boys to go to a public school, and yet I let you take them out.”
He screws up his face in anger. “You would keep them in a school that is no good for them, just to prove a fucking point?”
“No,” I stammer as I begin to panic. “You were right on that one. I know you were—it was for the best.”
I wring my hands in front of me. “I’m stressed out. I feel like I’m losing control, and I just want things to stay the same between us.”
He puts his hands in his suit pockets and smiles as he drops his head in amusement.
Oh no ... I know that look.
“So ... what you are saying, Claire, is that you want me to step in and be Wade.”
My face falls. “What? No.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t. I swear.”
“You want me to live in Wade’s house, with Wade’s wife ... with Wade’s children.”
I stare at him.
“What about fucking me, Claire?” he cries. “Where the fuck is my life?”
My eyes fill with tears at his anger. “Tristan,” I whisper.
“I want my own wife, Claire, with my own children and to live in a fucking house that we choose together.”
Tears overfill my eyes, and I swipe them away angrily.
“You told me when we met that there were three hearts connected to yours.” He begins to pace. “Did you not?”
I stay silent.
“Answer me ... fuck it!” he screams.
I jump. “Yes.”
“So now that I’m in love with those hearts, and I want them as my sons”—he glares at me—“you tell me that I can’t have them?”
His silhouette blurs. “Tristan,” I whisper. “Please try and see this from my point of view.”
“You’re selfish, Claire.” His eyes fill with tears.
I drop my head as fear overwhelms me. I’m going to lose him too.
“I deserve to have my own family.”
“I know you do,” I murmur.
“I want the boys as mine.”
“Tristan.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”
He clenches his jaw. “You know ... my mother told me way back then ... that they would always be another man’s sons, that you would always be another man’s wife.” His eyes hold mine. “That you would never truly be my family—I would always be the stand-in.”
I screw up my face in tears. He’s so hurt.
He shakes his head. “I can’t live with that, Claire.”
“What are you saying?” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine. “I’m saying goodbye ... I’m nobody’s backup plan.”
I try to contain my sobs. “No, Tris,” I beg.
His haunted eyes hold mine ... a silent beg for me to stop him.
We stare at each other, and this is it. The defining moment where I choose between my past and my present.
Regret hangs in the air between us, and I want to do as he asks. I want to concede to his demands.
Anything to keep him here with me.
But I just can’t ... and it’s killing me.