Chapter 29 #2
“Stop.” She’s not harsh, but firm, and the tone cuts through the air.
“This is not about using a stage name. I already thought Ruby Reanne was a stage name. I don’t know anyone with the last name Reanne.
” Her nostrils flare as she takes a sharp breath.
“This is so much more. And… I think you know it.” She keeps herself covered with the sheet as she grabs a sweatshirt from the chair.
“You help like a million people, Colby. A million. Your fan base is huge. You are… Your show… Everything is based on authenticity.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve spent years cultivating a persona based on truth and authenticity. And everything is a lie. I twist my fingers around the pillow as Josie grabs underwear and pants from a drawer.
“I know, I know…” Wait. Why is she putting on her clothes?
She’s not really leaving, right? She just said that because this is a shock and maybe she doesn’t want to have this conversation naked, but she can’t leave.
At the end of the day, this is a podcast, and what we have is so much deeper, and she can’t fucking leave.
Please. “But I also say I’m not a doctor, or therapist, or anything. I give that warning in the beginning—”
“No one gives a shit if you’re a doctor or not.
That’s not why they listen to you.” She tugs socks on then runs her fingers in her hair.
The look on her face is one that I never want to see again.
The accusation, the hurt, the anger. It’s emitting from her like a toxic fog.
I stand to reach out for her, then sit back down under her glare.
“That first night I was here, and I told you about me writing to the show, and the humiliation I felt when I followed Ruby’s advice and chased after Zoey like some lost child—that was you. The entire time, that was you.”
Prickles of sweat beat at the back of my neck. “I know, I know, and I just wasn’t ready to tell anyone that this was me.” Can she understand this? I hope? Please? I can barely meet her gaze. “I am so sorry if the advice I gave led to…”
“Stop. Please.” Her chin trembles. She grips the edge of the dresser and keeps her eyes on the floor for so long that I’m not sure if we are done talking, or I should keep explaining my side, or if I should throw myself at her knees and beg for forgiveness.
“That night. When I was here. I told you about the show and you fucked me anyways.”
My head snaps at the harsh words. No, I mean, yes, we did, but it wasn’t like that.
That night, everything just happened, right?
Emotions were high, and we were both searching for something, and it’s not like I intentionally deceived her.
She didn’t ask me that night if I had a podcast or was Ruby Reanne or…
I stand to meet her, but she holds up her hand to stop me.
“You have let me come here for a month, told me how much you cared, shared your bed. We hug and talk about family, and I told you about my dad and my fears and insecurities, and the way that I never felt like I was enough.” Tears well behind those eyelids, and I swear I will do literally anything to take them away.
Lie, cheat, beg, anything. “And you haven’t once even tried to tell me about this?
I asked about your job, and you gave me some bullshit ‘editing’ line.
I walked into your goddamn office, and you still didn’t tell me.
Never once did you think I was worthy enough to hear the truth.
” The tears trickle down, and she wipes them with her sleeve. “I literally feel sick.”
And now I feel sick. She spins and storms out of the room.
I follow her from the bedroom with Kona right at my heels as she makes her way to the living room.
Oh my God, she’s leaving. No, no, no, she can’t leave.
If she leaves, she won’t come back, and I cannot handle her not coming back.
I just found this again—a person, a deep connection, someone who makes me feel this—and I can’t give it up.
Maybe this is just an argument. Maybe this is how couples work through their differences.
Dear God, please, please don’t let her walk out of that door.
“Josie, I am so sorry. This show is something that is so deeply private to me. No one in the world knows. No one. Not my family, not my bank, no one.” I want to block her hand from reaching for her purse and digging out her keys, but I don’t. “Please try to understand from my perspective.”
“I am trying. I really am. Even though it makes me sick about that first night, I can even sort of understand why you didn’t say anything.
” She shoves her feet into her shoes and continues to swipe off trickling tears.
“Keeping some things private is okay. Of course you don’t have to share everything.
But you are flat-out lying to and deceiving so many people.
” She tugs her trembling lips into her mouth. “You lied to me.”
Oh God, oh God, shit. “I know I have. But it’s not real, obviously. I… It’s like a character, you know? A lot of people have characters that they play in media like this.”
Her eyes are showing me that she absolutely doesn’t care and totally recognizes that I’m grasping onto any straw I can.
“It’s not as easy as that, Colby. And you know it.
You can’t just wave something like this away.
A million people are affected by your words.
And not only that… you are talking about her.
You spend like half your show talking about your wife. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Flames spread on my chest and up to my cheeks. “Please don’t be jealous of Amelia,” I say. “I love what you and I have—”
The heated glare she tosses me is almost too much for me to handle, and I immediately want to suck the words back in. “This is not jealousy, Colby. This is deception. Plain and simple.”
“But—”
“Amelia sounds wonderful. If she were here, I bet we’d be friends,” Josie says, reaching for her coat.
“This is not me being some insecure girlfriend who can’t handle that you were married.
This is not me being in denial that you won’t mourn your wife for the rest of your life.
This is about you actively pretending during the day that you are married to her while sleeping with me at night. ”
Those words are so sharp, so painful, that if feels like she slapped me.
And the worst part is, I know she’s not wrong.
I want to tell her she’s wrong, or misconstruing everything, or being illogical about the situation.
But I can’t. She’s not yelling, she’s not fighting.
She’s angry, yes, but she’s also calm, which is terrifying.
Calm means logical. Calm means she’s thinking clearly.
Calm means she knows exactly what she’s saying. “This is way more than just sex.”
Josie pulls in a breath and shrugs on her coat. “For me, too. Obviously. I thought the relationship that we’re building could be my future. I didn’t see this ending.”
Shit. No. Did she just say that she didn’t see this ending? She doesn’t mean actually ending, right? Maybe ending today? Ending for the moment while she clears her head. Ending for the day until she comes back tonight and I cook her dinner and she climbs into my bed and rests her head on my chest.
“I need to go,” she says as she squats down by Kona and rubs her hand behind her ear.
The way she’s rubbing Kona, the way she’s looking into her eyes and telling her to be a good girl, looks like a goodbye.
Like an actual goodbye, and my chest literally feels like it’s being split in half with an axe.
“Don’t go, Josie, please,” I say. When she stands and moves to the door, I put my palm on her arm. Hot, stinging tears build behind my eyelids and I bat them back. “This is my livelihood. Please, see this from my perspective.”
“The thing is, I am looking at it from your perspective. But are you seeing it from mine? It feels like everything here has been a lie.” Her trembling hand rests on the door handle, and she swipes back the tears again.
“You’ve made me feel so worthless. You did not value me, or us, enough to be honest. You’ve had a million opportunities to tell me the truth, and you still chose not to. ”
When she opens the door, I consider throwing myself in front of her on the porch to stop her but instead follow her down the path to her car. The tears are flying from me now, dribbling down my cheek, but I don’t stop them. “Josie, please.”
At the car, she opens the door, and she gives me a look like maybe she has more to say, but she doesn’t. When she cracks open the door, I reach for her one more time, desperate, hoping that the sensation of my hand on her arm will somehow be enough to make her stay. “Are you coming back?”
She anchors her lips between her teeth for a long moment and casts her gaze to the earth. When she looks back up, her eyes are filled with so much uncertainty and regret that I feel myself break. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
The car door slams, the engine starts, and soon the only sound I hear is the crunch of gravel underneath her tires. When she reaches the end of the path, I drop to my knees and bawl into my hands.