26. Graham
GRAHAM
THEN
October, Year Three
“Darling?”
Miguel didn’t greet me with a soul-searing kiss, which I’d anticipated after being gone for weeks. I texted him when my flight landed but got no response. As I closed the front door, only silence welcomed me home.
I abandoned my suitcase in the foyer and searched, starting with the spare bedroom where he spent hours at his sewing machine. All the lights were off downstairs, and there was no sign of him. No hammering needle and no music. Heading upstairs, I took the steps two at time.
“Miguel, I’m home!”
Strong scents of lemon and bleach wafted from the kitchen. The cleaning service would have come on Wednesday, three days ago, which meant Miguel gave the kitchen a thorough scrubbing himself. Not a good sign.
I rushed to our bedroom and came to a dead stop, like hitting an invisible wall. All the air left my lungs, forced out by relief and the sight of him sitting in the oversized chair near our bedroom window.
The setting sun cast a golden hue on his furrowed brow, and I couldn’t think of a time when he looked more handsome. He hadn’t noticed me, so I stared until my heart couldn’t take another second of separation. Every stretch of time I spent away from him felt longer than the previous one.
My feet closed the distance. I knelt before him and pinched his chin, kissing his soft lips, breathing him in. His hair was damp, and he wore pajamas despite the early hour.
“God, I missed you.” I said.
My head fell to his lap, and I hugged his thighs. After the long, connecting flights from Belfast, I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there.
“Is it true?” he asked.
“Of course, it’s true. I hate being away from you for so long.”
“Is this true?” Miguel held up his phone.
The screen showed an old photo of me and Tatum with a bold headline announcing our engagement.
“Oh wow. That was fast. It’s a good thing that didn’t come out before my second flight. The teenager sitting behind me was wearing a Makenzie shirt.” I snorted a laugh. “Should we buy Tate a ring?”
He didn’t crack a smile, not even so much as a twitch of his lips. “I thought the two of you were breaking up. You’ve been talking about it for months.”
Tatum and I were supposed to announce our amicable split, but her manager pushed for an engagement instead.
She was dropping a new album, one good enough to sweep the top categories in the next awards season.
Tatum reluctantly pitched me the idea, and I agreed because it bought me and Miguel more time.
“This plan will protect us for a little longer, darling.”
He shook his head. “You leave me in the dark sometimes.”
I grabbed his hips and rested my chin on his knee. “I don’t mean to. PR teams start spinning their wheels, and things move quickly. Sometimes too fast even for me. I didn’t know the announcement was coming out so soon.”
“Nothing happens without your approval. If there’s one thing you’d never give up, it’s total control over your precious image.” The spite in his tone knocked me back.
I sat on my heels, and an audible swallow betrayed my sudden nervousness. “It’s not a big deal, really. A publicity stunt.”
“Not a big deal? Graham, the whole world thinks you’re engaged.” He thrust a hand toward the window. “The media will be all over this story for months. Whenever things start to calm down and I think we’re safe, you go and pull some bullshit like this, drawing more attention to yourself.”
“I don’t understand. You’ve always encouraged me to keep up the lie with Tate, so why are you mad about this?”
“The thing with Tate isn’t the issue. What hurts is you planning a fake engagement without talking to me first. You make it really hard to believe I’m not alone in this when you leave me out.” His eyes brimmed with tears, and the wobble in his bottom lip quaked my foundation.
As I cupped his cheeks, he jerked his head out of my grasp. Miguel had never denied my affection, and the consequences of my actions felt like a rip in my soul.
With a tentative hand, I brushed his leg. “I’m sorry, my darling. Upsetting you is the last thing I ever want to do.”
“Then stop doing the thing that upsets me. It’s as simple as that.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He shoved the blanket aside and stood from the chair. “Don’t do this again, Graham. Don’t leave me out of decisions that affect us.”
“I won’t.” As he moved toward the bed, I grabbed his fingers. “Hey, are we good?”
Miguel stared down at me before his shoulders dropped on a sigh. “Yes, just…don’t let it happen again.”
When he climbed under the covers, he rolled onto his side, facing away from me. Feeling out of sorts and ashamed, I retrieved my suitcase from the foyer and unpacked, placing all my dirty clothes in the hamper and storing the bag on the highest shelf in the closet before stepping into the shower.
Steaming water beat against my neck as suds clung to the drain. Miguel was hurting because of me. And no matter how long I stood under the spray, I couldn’t wash away the guilt while soaking in the remorse.
By the time I crawled into bed, he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. I laid my head on his stomach and waited. Countless seconds went by before his fingers slid into my wet hair. I let out a quiet exhale, and my eyes drifted shut.
I had disappointed him—broken one of my promises. While I didn’t expect his forgiveness to come easily, I’d do everything in my power to earn it. And I’d try my hardest to never need a reason to ask for his forgiveness again.