Chapter 26 #2
She covered her face with both hands. "I wrote them."
"I know."
"I hated myself every time."
"I know."
"I'd write one..." Her voice shook. "...and then promise it would be the last one."
Luke looked down at the cards.
"They weren't."
"No."
She laughed through tears.
"They weren't."
For a long time neither of them spoke.
Finally Luke asked the question he'd carried for months.
"Why?"
Brooklyn lowered her hands. "I wanted..." She searched for words. "...to exist."
Luke frowned.
"In our relationship." The words were barely audible. I wanted there to still be a place where you thought about me."
Luke looked at the anonymous notes. "You succeeded."
Brooklyn closed her eyes. "I know. But not the way I thought I would."
The wind stirred the leaves around the bench. Luke looked out across the water. When he spoke again, his voice was almost unbearably gentle.
"I wish..." He swallowed. "...you'd trusted me enough to tell me you were hurting."
Brooklyn laughed bitterly. "I didn't want comfort."
"I know."
"I wanted..." She looked at him. "...to matter the most to you."
Luke nodded sadly. "And that's the one thing I could never give you."
Brooklyn looked away. "I know. I know that now." For the first time, she truly did.
Luke sat without speaking.
Brooklyn wiped at her face with the sleeve of her coat. She had imagined this conversation a hundred different ways over the past few weeks.
Luke shouting. Luke standing up and walking away. Luke telling her he never wanted to see her again. She had even imagined him feeling relieved.
She had not imagined this.
Silence.
He looked heartbroken.
Finally he spoke.
"Do you know what you've taken from me?"
Brooklyn frowned.
"What?"
He looked out across the pond instead of at her.
"My proposal."
She stared.
"My engagement."
His voice remained quiet.
"My wedding."
Brooklyn opened her mouth.
Luke continued before she could speak.
"I keep trying to remember asking Grace to marry me."
He smiled sadly.
Brooklyn listened.
"I practiced the proposal in my truck three times because I was afraid I'd forget what I wanted to say."
A tiny laugh escaped him.
"I forgot half of it anyway."
Brooklyn closed her eyes.
"I remember calling my parents afterward."
He looked down at his hands.
"I should remember how happy they sounded. Instead...I remember wondering whether you'd be okay."
He swallowed. "I remember our engagement party."
"I remember our engagement photographs."
"The florist."
"The invitations."
"The rehearsal dinner."
He shook his head slowly. "Every memory..." His voice caught. "...has you standing just outside it."
Brooklyn began crying again.
Luke didn't stop.
"You didn't just hurt Grace." He finally looked at her. "You hurt me."
The words landed harder than anything else he'd said.
Brooklyn stared at him.
"I spent months trying to fix something I didn't understand." His breathing grew uneven.
"I thought I was failing my best friend."
"I thought I was failing my fiancée." He laughed once.
"It never occurred to me that the reason I couldn't solve it..."
He looked down.
"...was because you were creating it."
Brooklyn covered her mouth.
"I know."
"No." Luke shook his head gently. "I don't think you do."
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I have questioned my own judgment every day for months."
He looked directly at her. "I wondered whether Grace was being unfair."
He swallowed. "I wondered whether Marissa had been insecure."
"I wondered whether I was imagining things."
He closed his eyes briefly. "Do you know what that feels like?"
Brooklyn whispered, "I'm sorry."
"I know you are. And I believe you."
She looked up hopefully.
Then he continued. "But being sorry doesn't give those months back."
The hope disappeared.
Luke looked toward the pond again. "You know what the worst part is?"
Brooklyn shook her head.
"I trusted you." His voice wasn't angry. It was wounded.
"Not because we'd known each other forever."
He looked at her.
"But because you were one of the safest people in my life."
Brooklyn's shoulders sagged. "I know."
"I would've handed you my house keys."
"My wallet."
"My future children's wellbeing."
He smiled sadly. "I never would've imagined I needed to protect my relationship from you."
Brooklyn broke completely. "I'm sorry." The words dissolved into sobs. "I'm so sorry."
Luke let her cry.
When she finally looked up again, her mascara streaked down both cheeks. "I never wanted you to hate me."
Luke answered honestly. "I don't."
She blinked. "You don't?"
He shook his head. "I love you."
Fresh tears filled her eyes.
"But not enough to pretend this didn't happen."
She nodded. "I know."
"I don't hate you." He took a slow breath. "But I don't trust you anymore."
The sentence hung in the cold autumn air.
Brooklyn closed her eyes.
It was somehow worse than anger.
Because she knew it was true.
Luke stood.
She watched him.
"I've been thinking about something ever since the award dinner." He slipped his hands into his coat pockets.
"I finally figured it out."
"What?"
"You didn't lose me because I chose Grace."
Brooklyn looked up.
"You lost me because you made Grace feel crazy."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Luke's voice softened. "She spent months wondering whether she was imagining things."
He shook his head.
"The woman I love..." His throat tightened. "...never should've had to compete with my best friend."
Brooklyn lowered her head. "I know."
He smiled sadly. "I think you do now."
Another long silence settled between them.
Finally Brooklyn whispered,
"Is this goodbye?"
Luke looked at the woman who had sat beside him in kindergarten.
Who had come to every birthday party.
Who had stood beside him at his mother's funeral.
Who had celebrated every promotion.
Who had become part of his family long before either of them understood what family really meant.
He mourned all of it.
Every year.
Every memory.
Every ordinary Tuesday.
Then he answered.
"I think..." He looked toward the path leading away from the pond. "...it's goodbye for a long while."
Brooklyn nodded once. "I understand."
He smiled sadly.
His eyes met hers one last time.
Fresh tears slipped silently down her face.
Luke turned to leave.
"Luke?"
He stopped.
Without turning around.
"I'm going to get help."
He closed his eyes.
Not because he doubted her.
Because he believed her.
"I hope you do."
"And..."
Her voice trembled.
"I won't come to the wedding."
Luke was quiet for a long moment.
Then he finally turned.
"I think that's the kindest thing you can do."
Brooklyn nodded.
"I think so too."
Luke walked away.
He didn't look back.
She sat alone on the bench for a long time.
Luke sat in his truck for almost twenty minutes before turning the key. The park had emptied around him. The ducks had disappeared into the reeds. The afternoon sun had slipped lower, throwing long shadows across the water. He rested both hands against the steering wheel.
He had expected anger.
Instead, he felt as though someone had quietly amputated a piece of his life. He mourned the little girl who had stolen half his crayons because she'd forgotten hers. The teenager who had laughed so hard she'd fallen off the dock every Fourth of July.
The woman who had sat beside his mother through endless rounds of chemotherapy, making terrible jokes until Elaine laughed despite herself.
Those memories were still real. They always would be. But now they lived beside different memories.
Anonymous notes.
Manipulation.