Chapter 24
Odette
I stood outside the fence that shielded Murphy's home and his backyard, unable to get my feet to cooperate and take a step forward. This would be the first time I would be spending any sort of alone time with Murphy since our divorce. I didn’t have a damn clue about his life, and I was out of sorts.
At one point, I considered making a list of all the questions I wanted to ask him.
When? Why? Did you ever love her? Did you ever love me?
I think that was the worst part of it all—wondering if he had ever loved me, and if he did, why wasn’t my love enough? Did he blame me for Lux?
He had seemed so happy when I told him I was pregnant, not giving two shits that we were young.
He simply told me, “Now , instead of only having time for four kids, we can easily have five.” He asked me to marry him that night, telling me he’d bought the ring years ago, but he was just waiting for the right time.
It had been a simple gold band with a small heart-shaped diamond—at the time it was all he could afford, but I’d fallen in love with it the moment I saw it.
Once he started making some real money, he begged me to replace it, but I always refused.
He'd gotten it back in the divorce, not that he asked for it, I just couldn’t stomach looking at it. Now I found myself wishing I had kept it.
The sound of the fence pulling open startled me, giving way to a Murphy with a small smile.
“Jesus, you’re like a ninja.” I gasped. “How’d you know I was here?” I’d purposely gotten here early, knowing it’d take me a while to make my way inside. I even parked down the street, giving myself time to walk off some of my nervous jitters.
He shrugged. “I felt you. You comin’ in?”
My jaw about hit the floor. “You felt me?”
“Yup.” He tilted his head toward his place.
Clearly, he wasn’t willing to elaborate on that.
I couldn’t help how my eyes raked over him. He wore jeans that seemed to be covered in a small layer of…wood? Or was that sawdust? A fitted plain black T-shirt spread over his chest, and a backwards cap covered his hair; a pencil sat behind his ear with Timberlands to boot. Good Lord.
I shook my head to snap me out of it. I definitely didn’t need to be checking out Murphy right now, and even though there was no way he didn’t miss me practically drooling all over myself, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he swung the gate open, giving me the option to either stay here or come in.
Slipping past him quickly, I was once again enamored with the garden and the backyard, wondering if maybe we could just stay here forever instead.
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
Shit, I must have said that out loud.
“I can’t believe you did all this.”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“Wait, you actually did all this?” I looked over at him and caught him mid-shrug.
“I had a lot of time on my hands... You always talked about how you wanted to visit the botanical gardens, so…”
“So, you just built one instead?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice or face.
Murphy's eyes met mine, and there was such a deep look of pain and loss that it almost brought me to my knees. But before I could make a move toward him, he looked away from me and whispered, “So, yeah, I built one.”
Before I could get my body in motion, he was already heading toward the house, leaving me no option but to follow him inside, even though I was only partially kidding about staying out here.
He left the sliding door opened, so I walked right into the kitchen, where he was cooking something that smelled a lot like garlic and heaven.
“I hope you still like chicken Alfredo,” he said, still not turning around to face me.
“It’s still my favorite.”
“That’s good.” He continued to stir the sauce that I’m already sure was done, and I was a little unsure of how to navigate this.
The Murphy I remember would have been all over me, love bombing and bombarding me with the why’s and how’s.
Even before Douche-Murphy made an appearance in my life, he’d never been a quiet guy—always the first to start a conversation, could sell water during a rainstorm, that kind of guy.
This was a new, less is more Murphy, and I was floundering.
“You feel like looking at me tonight, or am I going to have a conversation with your back?”
I heard a small chuckle before he turned around. “Sure, Odette, I’m all yours.”
I couldn’t help the flutter in my heart at those words.
“I... Well… Uh.”
“How was your day?” he asked
“My day?”
“Yes, your day.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “I knew this was going to be a little awkward, but small talk, Murph?” I shot a grin at him, only to see him giving me an intense look back.
“I want to know about your day, Odette, because I haven’t gotten to know about any of your days in a long time.
It’s the small things and the small talk I miss most…
” He trailed off, as if talking to himself and no longer me.
I definitely didn’t miss the hitch of his voice at the end, and it was almost my undoing, and it was such a small and stupid thing .
“Honestly, I spent most of my day wondering how tonight was going to go, and now I don’t think I know what to say.”
“That’s okay.”
He began plating up my food, taking the crust off the garlic bread he had prepared because, for some reason, I hated crust. He kept the chicken separated from the sauce and the noodles because I always had a weird thing about mixing foods and proportions.
He remembered, just handing me my plate like it was something he was going to do for the rest of our lives.
“How was your day?” I asked, because I was finding out that I really did want to know.
“I woke up, I worked, dropped Lux off with my mother, went to therapy, and now here we are.”
“Therapy?”
“Therapy,” he confirmed while getting his food and sitting across from me at the island.
“Didn’t you tell me once that therapists were wanna-be doctors?” I arched my eyebrow at him.
“I’m sure I did at one point. Odette, why are you here?”
His question startled me, and I felt my face flush. Maybe he didn’t want me here, and I was misreading everything. He must have seen the look on my face because he quickly added, “I just mean, why now?”
I felt myself relax because that was a fair question. “I would tell you I don’t know, but…I do.”
He waited for me to elaborate, and I brought my gaze to my plate because I needed to make sure I kept my composure.
“I hated you for a long time, Murph.” I saw him visibly flinch at my words.
“Or at least, I thought I did, you know? I never fully understood the saying, there’s a fine line between love and hate, until everything we went through.
I think it was so easy to hate you so much because I loved you so much.
Now here I am, three years later, and I find that the anger is gone. ..”
“But?” His voice sounded more morose than I would have thought.
“But I find myself unable to get you off my mind. At first, it was realizing I was strong enough to ask the questions I couldn’t before, and then it was intrigue at seeing you again, and now…I’m not sure what it is, but I know I want to ask my questions and see where that leads me.”
I would have thought that would have made him happy, but he hung his head in what seemed to be shame.
“Murph?” I questioned softly. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes met mine, and I was met with the saddest gaze I’ve ever seen—he almost looked desolate. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, and I’m so damn sorry if it makes you hate me more.”
I had to stop myself from gasping at the self-hatred I saw in his eyes.
“Murph…”
“Please just ask, Odette.”
Deciding it was now or never, I took a deep breath. “Did you love her?” Somehow, I already knew the answer.
“Never.” His gaze met mine and I saw the sincerity there. I had to find it in my heart to believe the words he was saying because I saw the truth written all over his face. He didn’t love her.
“Were there others?”
“God, no. Never. If you take or believe anything I say, please believe that.” He choked back on the tears that were brimming in his eyes.
“Then why, Murph? Why? I loved you so much. I thought…I thought you felt the same. Why?” There went my composure.
I don’t know when I started crying, just that I was.
The tears were flowing, and I couldn’t stop them, and honestly, I didn’t want to stop them.
I kept my gaze down, twisting my hands together, trying to relieve some of the ache that felt physical even though I knew it wasn’t.
“Jesus, baby, please, look at me.”
I heard his heartbreak as it called to mine, and I found myself looking at him, seeing the exact same pain I was feeling reflected in him—and if possible, he looked worse.
“It was never you; it was me. I got so fucking caught up, and I don’t even have a good reason for it.
That’s what sucks the most, you know? I was happy; I was so fucking happy.
Then I started this new job,” he spat out in disgust. “My coworkers were the lowest of the low, drinking and doing drugs every weekend, cheating on their wives...”
I flinched at his words, but still hung on to them.
“They lived this fast and hard lifestyle, and I got caught up. They seemed so happy, and I thought, well, am I happy if that’s not what I'm doing? I thought that’s what life’s about, being that happy.
So, I went for one drink, and that one drink turned into a few nights a week, and then a few nights a week turned into every weekend. I just...”
“Got lost,” I finished for him.
“Yeah, baby.” He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my hair.
“I got so fucking lost, and in turn, I lost everything . I lost everything that ever mattered to me. I deserve it, though. I deserved everything I got and everything I get. As long as you and Lux are happy, that’s all I need. ”
“And the affair?”
“It just happened. I know that’s the stupidest excuse, but I don’t have another one.
It was a late night at work, we had a few drinks, there had been a few lingering glances at the bar before but nothing crazy.
I swear . She leaned in to kiss me, and at first, I didn’t kiss her back, but eventually, one thing led to another and… ”
“You slept together.”
“Yes.” He hung his head and let his tears flow.
“How many times?”
“The affair went on for three months, but we slept together maybe six, possibly seven times. Always at the apartment.”
I digested this information, and while it still felt like a knife in my gut, I had to say it was far less than I was thinking.
“We did spend a good bit of time together outside of that, though; we had formed a group at work that was close. We drank together, got dinner together, did all the things I should have been coming home to you for. We never went on dates one on one, though that doesn’t make any of it better, it doesn’t make any of it right.
I just want to be completely honest about everything. ”
“Did you tell her you regretted Lux?” I gulped, afraid of the answer since it seemed that he wasn’t holding anything back.
“God, no. One night, when we were out playing pool, some of the guys were talking about how they wished they hadn’t got married and were thankful they didn’t have kids.
They asked me how I felt since we had kids so young, and I told them, ‘It would have been easier if we had Lux later in life.’ Was that the right thing to say?
No. But I also didn’t want to be having that conversation with them, so I did my best to keep my family life and my work life separate. ”
“How did it end?” I found that, while I was still crying, there was a lightness that was now sitting next to the pain.
“You mean after I threw her out? I all but dragged her out of the apartment when I realized you had left.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure you’re thinking there was some huge epic confrontation, but there wasn’t.
She called a few times, but I ignored her.
She texted me, and I told her to fuck off.
I ran into her at work on my last day, and she tried to talk me out of it, but I told her she was the worst mistake I’ve ever made and looking at her made me physically ill. I never heard from her again.”
The anti-climactic ending of it almost reaffirmed the fact that it wasn’t this huge love affair like I had been thinking, but it still didn’t make what happened any less horrible.
I had yet to digest what I was feeling alone .
The worst part of these kinds of conversations was you’re stuck having them with the people who’ve hurt you the most, and in seeking answers, you’re also putting yourself out there to get hurt.
“Thank you for telling me.” While I was still crying, the pain was becoming easier to manage, and instead of a physical pain, it felt more like a bruise on my soul.
Finally getting the courage to look at Murphy, I realized he was fairing far worse than I was. You could feel the self-resentment pouring out of him.
“Don’t thank me, Odette... Please, not for that.”
Before I could respond, he whispered, “Can I hold you?” His vulnerability was eating at me, and I nodded.
He wasted no time gathering me up in his arms and hauling me over to the sofa in the small living room, sitting himself down on the sofa with me firmly in his lap.
One of his hands rubbed my back up and down, and the other was looped around my waist, holding on to me for dear life.
I was sure I would have Murphy-shaped fingerprints on my hip, not that I was complaining.
He kept whispering how sorry he was, sometimes moving his death grip on my waist to wipe my tears, even though I felt the top of my head becoming wet from his.
Once I was finally able to keep the tears at bay, I asked him, “Where do we go from here?”
It took him a few seconds before he whispered, “Wherever you want, Odette.”