43. She Opened the Envelope #2
“I don’t remember much about that night,” Toby explained. “But some bits… I wanted you to know what I could remember. It’s all there, Gwen. Everything.”
Everything.
Did I truly want to know everything? Could I sit there and read the moment Toby kissed Kayleigh? Did he like kissing her? Did he get all hot and bothered like he did around me when I wore my daggy old T-shirt and granny knickers? I wasn’t sure I could handle knowing that if he had.
But it was now, and it couldn’t be never. I’d already jumped. I was hurtling toward the ocean, unsure if I’d ever resurface once I crashed into the black waves waiting for me in those words.
The first two pages were no surprise. I knew the apathy and lies that led Toby to the party.
He’d written about Kayleigh falling over herself—my thoughts, not his—because he hadn’t sat on his ass watching her set up as Ian had.
Toby liked helping. He’d moved chairs, carried food and drinks, and filled the cooler with ice. Classic Toby.
I wanted to find my phone and leave. I was so freaking pissed off at Ian bailing on me. Eventually, I found the stupid thing wedged between some self-help books, but the battery was flat.
I was stuffing around in Kayleigh’s kitchen, trying to find a charger, when she asked me if I wanted a coffee. Nope!
Gwen.
Just a warning… It’s not good from here.
I turned to Toby. “How bad does it get?”
“Bad.”
“Anything you haven’t told me?”
“No… But we never…” Toby grimaced. “I never told you all the, um…” He swallowed. “The details.”
I nodded. Details. How many details could he write for “only a kiss”? How bad could it possibly be?
Kayleigh started getting handsy. She touched my arm and my back, and at some point, her fingers were stroking my hair. She was going on about how I was funny and good-looking.
I just about fell over because I had no idea she felt like that, and I was super uncomfortable.
Kayleigh asked when you last made me feel like you wanted me. I couldn’t remember. I thought about it, too. I felt like you hated me.
She put her arms around me, and she was right up next to my ear. She said something like, “I’ll make you feel like you matter.”
It felt good to hear someone wanted me.
Jealousy twisted around my chest and squeezed.
I screwed my eyes shut and forced down as many deep breaths as I could, but it did nothing to stop the wave of nausea burning my throat.
Pressing a hand over my mouth stopped the pain from escaping in some pitiful sound. Blurred eyes read the next words.
I put my hand on her hip and held her against me for a bit. She was kinda shocked, but she liked it, and I liked the way she looked at me—like she actually wanted me. She started touching me. Her hands were in my hair, and she started kissing me on my neck and my jaw.
I didn’t stop her. I liked the feeling of holding someone and having them hold me…
Blood roared in my ears, and the anger—the pain—surged from all the dark and lonely pockets where I’d safely hidden them away. Paper exploded into the air. I scrambled off the bed, crawling on my knees, frantically tearing at the pages.
“Gwen! Stop!”
I barely heard Toby’s voice or felt his fingers pry the paper from my hands. Huge gulping wails filled every inch of the bedroom. It was me. The pain bled out of me in sobs, like Toby had stabbed me through the heart. I’d never expected his words to hurt so bad.
He liked it.
I would’ve collapsed in a heap on the floor if strong arms hadn’t wrapped around me. I struggled, pushing against Toby’s chest, desperate to block all the thoughts screaming for attention and bury them deep down with the ones from a childhood I was so good at forgetting.
“I hate you!” I screamed. “I hate you!”
It was easy to lash out. I didn’t hate Toby. I loved him. We’d been joking an hour ago. We’d had a great day. We were a good team. But he threw everything away to feel wanted by a woman that—at least by his scrawled notes—he thought was a giant pain in the ass.
Toby didn’t let me go. Protective arms kept me close. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that, Gwen,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. You’re almost there.”
“I don’t want to read one more word about how much you enjoyed kissing that evil little bitch when I was here falling apart without you!”
He rifled through the pages. “Okay.” He sucked in a big breath, but it didn’t seem to slow his breathing. “Okay. I’ll skip the kiss. But it’s important you hear the next bit, okay?” The papers shook violently in his hand. “Please.”
“Toby…”
“Please.” He glanced down, and taking another breath, he read the words aloud.
“Nothing about kissing Kayleigh felt right. She wasn’t you.
I shoved her off me. She…she…offered me…
no strings attached, to keep it a secret, and I said no.
Instantly. No hesitation. The pain…of the…
of the guilt was indescribable.” A tear blotted the paper, and he hurried to swipe it away so he could keep reading.
“I never thought I could be the type of man who’d hurt the woman I love so much, and I hated myself.
It’s not a feeling that’s gone away.” His voice choked. “And I’m not sure it ever will.”
His hand fell. Reading time was over for now. His nose burrowed into my neck, and his shoulders shook, his sobs almost silent.
I turned, my hand cupping his tear-stained cheek. “Tobes?”
“Ye-yeah?”
“What’s in all the other pages?”
Sniffling, his tears were dealt with by a rough pass of his hand. “It’s the stuff that happened after that night. The times I saw her. Oh! And, um…” He forced a tight smile. “A letter I wrote you.”
“You wrote me a letter?”
He nodded. “Do you, um…” He fumbled through the crumpled pages. “You can read it…if…if you want.” He held out a single piece of paper.
My teeth buried in my bottom lip, I cautiously accepted the letter.
“Please, Gwen.”
Steeling myself with a big breath in, I slowly read his words.
My Gwen,
I don’t know exactly when or how we lost our way.
Not a single day has passed in the last fifteen years when I didn’t love you more than anyone else in the entire world.
Even as I wrote about moments with some other person who never mattered to me, even more memories of you were impossible to forget.
We’ve shared so many perfect days.
The first time I held your hand. Our first kiss. The morning we snuck away from school and made love for the first time. Moving in together (even the part where you threw a roll of packing tape at my head). The day I married you. When I held your hand as our son joined us in the world.
And then there were the not-so-perfect days.
Every Christmas my mother treated you with so much cruelty.
Every October 31 st when you cried yourself to sleep over Liam being gone another year.
When you held me the night my father died, and especially when you squeezed my hand so tight through his funeral so I could hold it together until we got back to the car.
But there’s one day I regret more than all the rest.
The day of the accident.
Part of me thinks that day needed to happen so I’d realize I’d forgotten you, and it was almost the end of this beautiful life we’ve created together. But a bigger part of me wishes that day never happened because I can see that, for you, it’s overshadowed all the others.
I made a terrible choice, not just on that day, but on so many others. I hurt you in a way I swore I never would.
If we’re lucky enough to become grandparents one day, that means I have at least 10,000 more days to prove you’re the woman I love.
Do you think that’s enough days to overshadow this year? Even if it’s not, will you let me try?
Yours. Always. Toby.