Chapter 8—Christa #3
I turn the screen toward Simon. “There it is again.”
He studies the message, then looks toward me. “Thirty days.”
I take another screenshot and send it to Jai with a single question.
Christa: Find out what happens on day thirty.
Her answer appears less than a minute later.
Jai: Already working on it.
I place the phone face-down on my desk.
Six weeks ago, I asked Jai to get me out quietly. Monday, I filed because Tate finally convinced me there was nothing left to save. Today, he and Charla have given me a much better reason to stop protecting either of them.
“I’m taking them both down, Hollywood-explosion style.” I wipe beneath one eye when it starts burning. “Figuratively, unfortunately. Jai would object to literal explosives.”
Simon looks at me for a second, then one corner of his mouth lifts. “She does seem restrictive that way.”
“I pay her a lot of money to ruin my fun.”
The laugh comes out wrong.
I hear it before I understand why. The sound breaks halfway through and catches hard enough that I press the heel of my hand against my mouth.
Tears spill anyway.
Simon stays where he is.
I turn away and brace myself against the desk. My shoulders jerk with the first sob, and anger flashes through me because I’ve spent the entire afternoon deciding what to do next. Crying doesn’t accomplish anything.
Another sob follows.
Simon still doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t tell me to calm down or ask whether I want water. He waits while I fight for enough control to speak.
“I can’t keep doing this.” My voice breaks, and I swallow before trying again. “I can’t keep being the reasonable one who finds an explanation for everyone.”
Simon lowers himself into the chair beside my desk. “Then don’t.”
I shake my head and wipe my face. “She was in my house. She knew I was leaving him. She knew what he’d been doing to me.” My breath catches, and I have to stop before I can continue. “She told me I was making a mistake while she was already pregnant.”
Simon leans forward, elbows on his knees, but he leaves the distance between us alone.
“I keep thinking about Saturday.” I sink into my chair because my legs aren’t helping anymore. “Judith sat there talking about my fertility in front of everyone. She talked about heirs and bloodlines while Tate knew Charla was pregnant.”
Simon looks toward the floor for a moment before meeting my eyes again.
“He knew the whole time,” I say. “He sat there and let them talk about me as if my body had failed him.”
The tears come harder.
I bend forward and cover my face. “I thought I was leaving because he didn’t love me anymore. That was already enough.”
Simon doesn’t interrupt.
“I thought I could make the divorce clean and keep the parts of my life that were mine.” I lower my hands and stare at the floor between my shoes. “Now I find out they were using those too. My name. My marriage. Maybe my credit.”
The next breath hurts going in.
“I kept making excuses for both of them.” I wipe my cheek with the tissue Simon quietly sets on the desk beside me. “Charla was careless. Tate was selfish. Judith was old-fashioned. Bernard was controlling. I kept finding nicer words for what they were doing.”
Simon watches me without rushing to answer. “You don’t have to find nicer words anymore.”
That does more damage than reassurance would have.
I fold forward and cry until my ribs hurt. Simon stays beside me without touching me or trying to stop it. When I finally manage to sit up again, my face is hot and my throat burns.
He nudges the tissue box closer.
I take another one and wipe beneath my eyes. “This is humiliating.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“I’m crying in my office in the middle of the workday.”
“You’ve had a complicated afternoon.”
I give him a wet, irritated look. “That’s an understatement.”
“It seemed safer than trying to improve the situation.”
A laugh slips out between two shaky breaths. “Good instinct.”
He settles back again, giving me the same careful amount of room.
I twist the tissue between my fingers. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
“You don’t need to decide everything tonight.”
“Jai needs things. I still have messages to save. I have to freeze my credit once she tells me I can.”
“Those can wait an hour.”
I look over at him. “What if I miss something?”
“You can check again when you can focus.”
That answer is so reasonable I resent it. “I hate that you’re being kind to me.”
Simon turns his head. “Why?”
It’s impossible to explain because it’s irrational. “I don’t know what to do with that either.”
He considers me for a moment. “You don’t owe me anything for it.”
The tears threaten again, quieter this time. I look down at the tissue in my hand. “You’re not allowed to tell me this is for the best.”
“I won’t.”
“You’re not allowed to act like losing my marriage stops hurting because Tate turned out to be worse than I thought.” I hiccup.
“I won’t.” He speaks tenderly.
I look at him. He isn’t trying to persuade me, fix me, or turn himself into the answer. “What are you going to do?”
“Stay here unless you’d rather I leave.”
I study him for a few seconds. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
The simplicity of it makes my throat ache again.
I wipe the last dampness from my cheeks and lean back in the chair. My phone remains face-down on the desk between us. The messages are still there, and Jai is already digging into the thirty days. Tomorrow will bring more questions.
Tonight, I don’t want to go back to the hotel alone.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Simon straightens slightly but doesn’t move closer. “You won’t be.”
I hold his gaze long enough to make sure he understands what I’m asking and what I’m not.
He clearly does. Finally, I don’t have to explain anything else.