45. Chapter 45
Cate
Present
Idon’t know how long I sat there.
The kitchen light stayed on. The floor stayed cold beneath me. At some point, my breathing evened out - not because I felt better, but because my body ran out of ways to panic.
Eventually, I pushed myself up and moved to the sink. I rinsed the sticky soda from the towel and wrung it out, my hands steady now in that detached, hollow way that came after crying. I left the towel draped over the counter and leaned there, staring at nothing.
My phone stayed quiet.
I wasn’t ready to move.
I wasn’t ready to decide what came next.
The sound of a car door closing outside startled me.
I froze, my pulse spiking as footsteps approached the front door. A key slid into the lock and a moment later Trevor stepped inside like nothing was wrong.
“Hey,” he said easily, shrugging out of his jacket. “You didn’t answer when I called, so I figured I’d come check on you.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I never even noticed my phone ringing.
“Oh, and I took the day off,” he added, glancing at his watch. “Thought we could grab breakfast. Ease back into real life.”
He smiled at me - the same warm, familiar smile from the honeymoon. The one that had made everything feel simple.
I glanced past him, toward the front window.
A familiar truck slowed at the corner of the street before rolling to a stop. My pulse kicked up sharply as I recognized it.
Seth.
He hadn’t seen me yet.
Trevor followed my gaze, but the truck was already moving again, disappearing down the block.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I just thought I heard something.”
Seth would circle back. Or knock. Or call again.
I told myself that.
Trevor crossed the kitchen and kissed my temple, lingering just a moment. His hand stayed at my back as his eyes swept the room.
“You’ve been here the whole time?” he asked lightly.
“Yeah.”
“I was surprised,” he said. “I figured you’d be back at the house, resting.”
“I needed to pick up a few things.”
He hummed, thoughtful. “I can help you with that.”
“I know,” I said quickly. “I just… wanted to do it myself.”
Trevor studied me for a second, his expression curious. “You don’t have to, Cate.”
“I know,” I repeated, softer this time.
He didn’t push. Instead, he shifted topics like he always did when something felt uncomfortable.
“I was thinking we could go to that place on Pearl Street,” he said. “The one with the patio. You liked it last time.”
My stomach tightened.
“I don’t really feel like going out,” I said. “Maybe later.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You haven’t eaten, and Diet Coke doesn’t count…”
“I will.”
“Later,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “Okay.”
He moved past me, opening the refrigerator, peering inside like he was inventorying the space. “You could come back to the house with me. Nap. We’ll deal with this stuff another day.”
This stuff.
“I don’t want to forget about it,” I said. “I want to… finish it.”
He closed the fridge and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms loosely. “Why?”
The question wasn’t sharp. It was genuine. Almost confused.
“Because it’s mine,” I said, then immediately wished I’d phrased it differently.
Trevor’s expression softened, but something else flickered underneath it. Disappointment, maybe. Or concern.
“It’s ours now,” he said gently. “You don’t have to do everything alone anymore.”
“I know,” I said again. I was saying that a lot today.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing something reasonable. “I just don’t want you overwhelming yourself.”
I nodded, even though my chest felt tight.
“I actually already made a call,” he added casually.
My head snapped up. “A call?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “A cleaning service. Nothing crazy. Just to help pack things up. We can supervise, if you want.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
“Oh,” I said. “I wasn’t ready for that yet.”
Trevor tilted his head, surprised. “Why not?”
“I just wanted a little more time.”
“With what?” he asked, still calm.
I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t crack something open.
He reached for my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles in that grounding way I’d come to recognize. “You’re exhausted. Emotional. That’s normal.”
The way he said it made it sound temporary. Manageable.
“We don’t have to do it today,” he went on. “But it’s taken care of. One less thing for you to worry about.”
I stared at our joined hands.
Something about the moment didn’t sit right, but it was slippery, hard to name. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t wrong. He was being helpful.
So why did it feel like something had been taken from me?
“Okay,” I said finally.
Relief flickered across his face, quick and almost imperceptible. “Good.”
He squeezed my hand and smiled. “See? Teamwork.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead, already reaching for his keys. “Come on. Let’s get some food.”
I nodded, grabbing my purse from the counter.
My phone sat beside the sink, dark and silent.
I hesitated, then turned away from it and followed Trevor out the door, locking it behind us. The quiet stayed inside, holding everything I wasn’t ready to face yet.
As we walked to the car, I told myself I was just tired. That everything felt off because I was still adjusting. That this - this careful, coordinated forward motion - was what moving on looked like.
I didn’t look back.