Chapter 40 #2
“I want that too. I want you.” I swallow around the heaviness in my throat. “But I’m scared of rushing back into this only for things to fall apart again.”
He grips my hands tighter. “I’m scared too. So let’s be scared together.”
He makes it sound so easy, so simple. But it’s not. The last few days have been on vacation. What happens when we return to reality? What if he shuts me out again? What if three, six, ten months from now we’re fighting again, and everything is right back to where it was?
What if we crash and burn again, only this time I don’t survive the landing?
“But we don’t know what’s going to happen. The last year almost broke me, Liam. What if we hurt each other again?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, drawing his hand along the side of my cheek.
I shake my head, my vision blurring behind the glassy layer of tears. “You can’t promise me that,” I tell him.
He gently brushes a tear from my chin with the pad of his thumb.
“You’re right. I can’t.” His gaze is equal parts tender and determined. “But I can promise that things will be different this time. I can promise to love you, to be there, to let you in. I can promise to show you all my broken parts, and hope you’ll trust me with yours.”
“I want that.” I want you, my heart screams. “I just…” My voice breaks as a tear runs down my cheek.
“There’s just so much we haven’t talked about, and I wish that didn’t matter, that I could just say yes, but…
” The lump in my throat expands. “But I want us to work, Liam, and I think the best chance we have at that is to be careful. Right?”
Slowly his face transforms, wide eyes focusing, jaw setting with resolve. “You’re right. There’s still a lot we haven’t talked about. And we owe it to each other to be honest. So I want to lay my cards on the table, cards I should have laid out a long time ago.”
He takes my hands in his. “I don’t want a divorce.
I didn’t then, and I don’t now. I love you, Roslyn.
You’re the beginning and end of everything for me, and no matter what happens next, no matter where we go from here, there will never be a time that I don’t love you.
Not now. Not a decade from now. Not forty fucking years from now. ”
His voice starts to waver, but his eyes stay planted on me.
“I want to kiss you good night and wipe away your tears and hold you at the end of a long day. I want to grow old together and witness each other’s lives.
I want that to be us up there someday celebrating our fiftieth wedding anniversary with our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
I want all of that with you and only you, Ros. Forever.”
He lets one of my hands go to bring his palm up, gently cradling my cheek, moving closer until his forehead is resting against mine.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t the husband you needed me to be.
I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t let you into the hard parts of my life.
I’m sorry I let my past dictate our future.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help carry your burdens.
But I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t lose you again,” he adds, his voice splintering.
“I know I didn’t fight for you three months ago, but I want you to know where I stand now. I’m here, and I will fight for you. I’m all in, and I always was, even when I didn’t know how to show it.”
Desperation and something like hope threads through his voice, and my throat fills, pangs of want and despair crashing together.
If this were a book, the choice would be easy, the warm embrace of a well-deserved happily ever after only a few pages away. But this is real life and happily ever after isn’t guaranteed. It never was.
I think about my mom. About all the packed bags and moving boxes. All the times she had her heart broken. How she remained hopeful nonetheless. If she were here, she’d urge me to go with him. She’d tell me that love is about taking chances. About being brave.
But that’s exactly the problem. I was never brave like her.
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could say yes,” I tell him, my tears falling hot and fast. “I wish I could be brave enough to do this with you.”
His gaze is heavy with a kind of sadness that I feel against my chest, a pressure that makes it hard to breathe. “So what does this mean for us?”
I press my palm to his cheek, forcing his gaze to mine. “I want to be with you. I want to try again.” My voice starts to shake. “But we’ve only just started to work through our issues, and this is such a big conversation that I think deserves more time. From both of us.”
His shoulders slump, but slowly he nods. “I understand.” Heavy eyes flick up to mine. “We can talk again when I get back.”
My heart splinters, realizing I have no idea when that might be. And neither does he.
“But before I go.” He cups my cheek again, his gaze roaming the terrain of my face like he’s trying to memorize it.
“I want you to know that no matter what happens next, we’ll figure it out together.
You and me.” Then he leans in and kisses my temple, letting his lips linger.
“I love you, Roslyn,” he whispers against my skin.
“I love you, too,” I tell him. But it’s different than when I said it last night. Last night it had felt like a dam breaking loose, like coming home again, full of hope and longing and possibility. But this time it feels more like coming to the end of a long path only to find a crossroads.
When he finally pulls away and walks toward the door, suitcase in hand, I don’t turn around. I can’t watch him leave. Not again.