Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
AVERY
I’m sitting at my desk, staring out the window, my fingers poised on my computer keyboard. The skinny limbs of a mesquite tree sway with the breeze, and large, waxy white flowers spring from the arms of an old Saguaro. Normally I love this view, but today I cannot appreciate it properly.
My coffee has gone cold and my mouth feels as though a desiccant packet is sitting on my tongue. I’m immobilized by my thoughts.
Suddenly, this book feels a thousand times more difficult to write.
Or not, depending on how I look at it.
Within these pages, I have control. I am the puppet master. Pull a string, and an arm lifts.
In real life, I have no control over what anybody does.
Jill emailed me this morning, saying she looked forward to discussing the book in person tomorrow at the bridal shower. Between planning the event, writing the book, and my general angst, I haven’t had time to be nervous about meeting her.
I’m shifting my attention back to my manuscript when there’s a knock on my front door. For a quick second my brain misfires and thinks somehow it’s Jill, showing up to surprise me. That’s not possible, considering when she emailed and the time it would take to travel from New York to Arizona.
It’s probably Camryn coming to check on me and make sure I haven’t forgotten some detail about tomorrow’s celebration.
I check the peephole.
Gabriel.
I swallow against the flutter in my chest, then swipe under my eyes and tighten the messy bun tied on the top of my head. I wish I weren’t wearing my pink pajamas and fluffy Christmas-themed socks, but then I remember Camryn’s words from my first day in Sugar Creek.
Only Gabriel would find you physically attractive in your current state.
I push down my churning stomach and acidic nerves and open the door.
Gabriel straightens, as if he wasn’t really expecting me to answer. He fills the space of my walk-up, making it appear smaller.
“Hi.” His gaze roams my face. “Can I come in?”
I look down at myself as I back up to allow him in, silently cursing the salsa stain on the thigh of my pajama bottoms.
Gabriel steps inside. He doesn’t touch me as he passes, and still there’s an electric current between us. It’s so strong he might as well have his hands all over me.
He pauses in the entryway, which is also nearly the middle of the living room, and only a few steps away from the kitchen. “This is nice.” He looks up at the ceiling. “You have fire sprinklers.”
“I remembered what you said, about houses built in this area after 1990 all having sprinklers.”
His hands go into his pockets, his shoulders lifting halfway to his ears. “I’m glad you thought of that, when you were looking for a home.”
Gabriel’s gaze slides over my place, peering around like there’s more to see. There’s not. Aside from the small living room and kitchen, it’s just my bedroom and the bathroom.
He strides over, sitting down on the couch. “Did you sell our things?”
The couch is new. The coffee table is new. Every piece of furniture in this place is new.
“I sold some. Others I gave to Salvation Army.” I wonder what this is like for him. In a rented cabin in Sugar Creek, we were in neutral territory. Now he’s in my home. It has to be uncomfortable.
I close the door and sit beside him. “Should I ask how you found out where I live?”
“Camryn told me.”
My head rears back in shock. “Camryn?” Why would she do that? That seems out of character for her, to not at least ask before handing out my address.
He sits back, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. Then he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. His right leg bounces.
I watch, fascinated by his restlessness. “You ok?”
He looks at me. “Yeah. I’m—” His eyes focus on my hand. Specifically, the fourth finger in on my left hand.
My wedding ring. I didn’t take it off last night. I showered with it on, slept with it on, applied moisturizer with it on. This wasn’t an absentminded mistake. I knew it was there, felt thrilled at its heaviness, the same way I did when it was first placed on my finger.
My thumb pushes the ring around my finger as I scramble for what to say. Gabriel fills in the silence by asking, “How often do you do that?”
“This is the first time I’ve put it on since I took it off.” Sliding the ring onto my finger means conjuring up the day he put it there, and I already spend plenty of time with my memories.
A timer dings. I stand. “Come on.”
He follows me into the kitchen. I stuff my hands into oven mitts and pull a coffee cake from the oven.
Gabriel peers over, eyebrows drawn. “So that smell isn’t a candle. I forget you’re competent in the kitchen now.”
I can’t help my proud grin. “More than competent. I’m good.”
“Do I get to be your taste tester?” His expressive eyebrows lift hopefully. We could be back in our old kitchen with the outdated cabinets and the counter chipped in one corner, dancing to music Gabriel has chosen while dinners burns.
That feels like another life. A parallel universe.
I remove two plates and two forks. Gabriel takes a knife from my knife block and cuts two slices of coffee cake. He uses his fingers to pull the first slice from the pan, placing it on a plate and licking crumbs from his finger before lifting the second and plating it. He hands the second slice to me.
We eat in silence after Gabriel compliments the coffee cake. He takes my empty plate, stacking it on top of his own, and places them in the dishwasher. I don’t mention that I wash my dishes by hand. What’s the point of using the dishwasher when it’s just me? By the time the dishwasher is full, everything in there smells gross. I wash as I go.
Gabriel leans against the counter. I do the same against the opposite counter.
He’s watching me, waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what. How do you choose what to say when there’s a sea of words to choose from? How do you choose what to say when you’re not sure there’s a point to any of it?
“Avery?”
It's only my name, but it's really not. It is strain, and torture. Pain, and hope.
Gabriel drags a hand through his hair. “Would you consider trying again with me? If we lived in the same place? I know we talked about it in Sugar Creek, but…” He trails off, but it’s not because he doesn’t know what to say. It’s more like he has too many thoughts, and he needs to decide which one to voice. Like he, too, has a sea of words swirling in his mind.
“Gabriel, I—” I cut off, pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes.
“I know you’re scared, and?—”
He stops talking when he sees me shaking my head. It’s true that I am so scared, terrified out of my mind. The very thing I want the most also carries the ability to decimate me. But, there’s more. “It’s not only fear. It’s trauma . And just because I objectively understand trauma is something that can be dealt with, doesn’t mean it’s not hell getting through it.”
Gabriel vaults over the small space, taking me by surprise when he grabs my hands. “I’m sorry, Avery.” Intensity fires up his brown eyes. “I understand now how important choices are to you. I want you to choose me.” He gestures from his chest to mine. “My choice is already made. I don’t think I ever had one. For me, it was over from the start. It’s different for you. I made it different. I know that, and I am sorry. I haven’t officially asked for your forgiveness, because I wasn’t certain I deserved it. But I’m here, right now, asking for your forgiveness.”
My heart slams against my breastbone. “You think you deserve it now?”
His head shakes. “I will endeavor to deserve it. I will work to deserve it, always.”
I take back my left hand, swiping at a lone tear. Light catches my ring, sending colorful prisms onto the wall.
“You’re my wife,” he chokes out. Moisture gathers in his eyes.
My eyes tighten, too. “You know I’m not.”
I thought we’d traveled difficult terrain in Sugar Creek, but it was just the surface. There is hurt to wade through on both sides of the answer. I lower my hands from my face. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say your truth. What else is left? What more is there to lose?” His defeated posture makes me want to cry.
I stare into his eyes as the memories trip past my brain on a slideshow. “We were good, Gabriel. God, we were good.” My voice quakes with my conviction. “We were beautiful, until we were tragic. I can’t see how the hell we’re supposed to come back from that.” I palm my chest, my heartbeats pushing against my bones. “I want to, more than anything. But what if there’s too much damage? Sometimes, things can’t be fixed, and you have to let go.”
“Time,” he pleads. “Time is how we come back from that. Right now I have nothing but words. Words and promises.” I’m already shaking my head in response, but he’s nodding, as if he can cancel out my refusal. “Give me time to show you that it will never happen again, because now I understand what drew me to it. I don't need to escape, because all I want is right in front of me. I wouldn't trade this feeling of belonging, of being right in the world, for anything. Ever. You don't have to say you believe me right now. I don't need you to. All you have to do is say you believe me”—he jabs a stiff finger at the ground—“today. And say it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. The days will turn into weeks, the weeks into months, and then it will be years. I will spend every moment for the rest of my life proving it to you over and over, day in and day out. You’re going to see it in the tiny moments when nobody is looking. You’re going to see it when all eyes are on us.”
He gulps air, and continues. “Remember in your book, you talked about irrevocable shifts? The accident, the DUI, prison, all of it, those were irrevocable shifts. Trauma that alters brain chemistry. Alcoholism could have killed me, and it nearly ruined my life. It’s poison to me, Avery. Poison. I want nothing to do with it, ever. Not just for you. For me, too.”
I want to believe him. I want him to be right. I want a crystal ball, so I can peer into the future and know the outcome. “I’m not sure if giving us another chance would be the most indulgent thing I’ve ever done for myself, or the dumbest. I love you. To this day.” I stab the air with a pointed finger as I speak. “To this very moment. I never stopped loving you, even when I moved on from you.” My hand drops. “But how foolish would I be if I just accepted your words? I cannot skip off into the sunset with you. The sunset might be a mirage, Gabriel.”
He presses a fist to his lips, pushing until his lips lose color. He breathes deeply through his nose and removes his hand, his lips blooming pink as the blood refills. Tears shine in his eyes.
I want to hold him, to soothe him, so desperately. I don't though, because that won't help us. My job now is to tell my truth, even when it hurts us both. “I know it’s easy to look at what went wrong in our relationship and see the headlines. But there’s more to it than that. I walked on pins and needles for months, never knowing if you’d be drunk or sober when you came home. Do you know what that does to a person’s mental state? All the lies I had to tell, to keep your image intact? I lied to people I love. I lied to myself. And I was lonely. So fucking lonely.”
“I will be sorry for the rest of my life.” Gabriel leans closer, planting a soft kiss against the side of my head. “I believe, with everything in me, that there is goodness ahead of us. That we are meant for a new beginning. What we had before, we can have again. I do not doubt my ability to treat you and our marriage like precious gifts. I only need one chance.” He pulls away from my head and stares deeply into my eyes. Into my soul. “I will not let you down.”
I blink away the moisture in my eyes, soaking in all of his earnest words and his conviction like a Gabriel-soluble sponge. “I need to think about all this.”
His gaze is long and meaningful. “I’ll be at my parent’s house.”
“You’re not going back to Sugar Creek?”
“Not yet.” He strides to the front door, still fully visible from the kitchen. He opens the door, then turns back. “You don’t trust me with your heart right now, and that’s understandable. But I trust me. Nobody will hold me to a standard higher than the one I’ll hold for myself.”
He steps out the door and closes it behind him.