47. Nik
Nik
March
My ponytail whips around in the wind as we fly down the highway, and despite all the bullshit going on between us, I can’t help but smile.
This is what I envisioned when I pictured my life with him—sleeping in on Sunday mornings just to lay in bed for another hour, long bike rides to the beach, afternoons listening to him play his guitar on the porch with a cigarette pinched between his lips.
I can picture it so perfectly when I’m on the back of the bike with the breeze in my face and the rumble of the Harley drowning everything else out. Inhaling him, I squeeze a little tighter to his body, wishing I could will that reality into existence.
He’s not brought up having a baby again. I don’t know if he’s just okay with not having one, or he just doesn’t know how to approach the subject, but either way at least he dropped it.
And that should make me feel better, knowing he’s not going to push things. That we can just be content, but I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for content.
I just can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe’s going to drop.
Maybe I just don’t know how to just be happy.
Damn near every day, I find myself starting fights with him. I don’t mean to, and I don’t really even notice I’m doing it until it’s over, and I feel like an asshole, but by that point we’ve already said a bunch of shit we didn’t mean, and it’s too late to reel it back in.
I don’t know what my purpose is without being the stable one. Now it seems like I’m the broken one, and I don’t fucking like it.
Shane’s so solid because he learned all of these skills in rehab, and now he doesn’t need me anymore, but I still need him. The tables have turned, and the scales are no longer balanced.
I feel like I’m losing my damn mind because this is insane. I should be happy. I should feel like we’ve finally made it.
But instead it feels like everything is slipping through my hands.
He pulls up in front of our apartment. “I’ll be back in a few okay?”
I nod, climbing off the bike. They have a meeting at the clubhouse tonight.
As I walk into the building, my phone rings.
“Hey, Kara.”
“Hey… uh…” Something in her voice has my hands slowing as I take out my keys and unlock my front door. “Have you been on Instagram today?”
“No, why?”
“I’m gonna send you a picture. I think you’ll want to see it.”
The line’s quiet for a minute before she says, “Okay, I’ll stay on the phone while you look.”
When I pull the phone away from my ear, I put it on speaker, then click on my messages and pull up the picture.
All the air whooshes from my lungs. Like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.
My voice comes out cold and distant, like it belongs to someone else entirely when I say, “Where did you see this?”
“It was on the girl’s Instagram.”
“When did she post it?”
“I don’t think it’s a new picture, but she posted it with the caption life lately, so I don’t really know.”
My eyes don’t leave the screen for even a moment. “I have to go.”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay… call me if you need to talk later.”
“K. Bye.” I hang up before she can say anything else and go back to the picture of the pretty brunette perched on my husband’s lap. His arms are wrapped around her, and he’s smiling. I know it has to be from at least a few months ago, because he’s thin and looks like he’s completely blitzed.
The rage that flows through me isn’t even hot anymore, it’s fucking arctic. I’m going to freaking kill him.
In all this time, it never occurred to me that he could have done something like that.
But he was out of control when he was high, and he did disappear for days at a time.
I’m so stupid. I should have known something like this could happen; I let him get away with everything.
Disappearing into the bathroom, I turn the water on and lean over the counter.
My thoughts race, and my heart pounds. Not only did the other shoe drop, but it fell from a ten-story building and clobbered me over the fucking head.
I can’t take this anymore. What have I done with my life?
I’ve wasted it all on someone who keeps fucking me over.
I stare at myself in the mirror as the bathroom fills with fog, and I don’t even recognize the girl looking back.
I used to be so much stronger than this.
I have no idea how I got here. With tears in my eyes, I scream at the top of my lungs.
It does nothing to release the pressure building in my chest, so I do it again.
I’ve given everything to a man who told me he’d just let me down, and like a fool I didn’t believe him.
Eventually, I collect myself enough to get in the shower.
I try and fail to wash away the anxiety that’s racing through my body.
I want to keep screaming, but I don’t. Instead, I sob as the water runs over my face.
Under the shower head, the tears just get swept away in the drain like they were never there.
I let them fall from me, and I come to the sour realization that I’m in love with a man who could do that to me.
Of course he would. Look at everything else he’s done.
When I finish, I dry off and dress before settling in on the couch. I secretly hope his meeting runs late because I don’t want to see him. I don’t know if I ever want to see him again. But because I’m a naturally unlucky person, the door swings open just after my ass hits the cushion.
“Hey,” he says, kicking off his shoes.
I don’t turn to look at him or even respond.
“Nikki?”
Still, I say nothing. I can’t.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, rounding the couch to stand in front of me.
When I lift my head to look at him, he must be able to see the pain in my tear-streaked face because he kneels in front of me, his brows drawn together. “What’s wrong?”
“You, Shane,” I bite. “You said you’d disappoint me one day, but I never expected you to fucking cheat!”
“What?” He rears back, searching my face. “What are you talking about?”
“You fucking cheated on me! I saw a picture of you with some other bitch! Although, you probably conveniently don’t remember.”
“Yeah, I don’t because that never happened,” he shouts.
“I saw you with her!”
“Show me,” he says, holding out his hand.
After pulling up the picture I hand him my phone. He stands and stares at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and muttering, “What the fuck,” under his breath.
When he hands it back, he says, “I know that looks bad, but nothing ever happened.”
“Do I look stupid?” I ask, sitting up on my knees.
Of course I look stupid. Honestly, I think I’ve looked stupid for the last seven years dealing with this bullshit.
“No. I never did anything with her, I swear.”
“How do you know? You were obviously fucked up!”
“Because I know,” he shouts. “I would never do that to you, fucked up or not.”
“You did a lot of things you’d never do when you were fucked up. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” I ask, standing up and storming away from him.
“That’s not fucking fair!”
“Not fair?” I stop, whipping around to face him. “What’s not fucking fair is that I’ve been nothing but supportive of you, and all you’ve ever done is put me through hell!”
“I know!” He blows out a sharp breath, trying to collect himself. “I know I have, but I didn’t do that. Nik, I’m trying so hard here.”
Shaking my head, I continue my trek to our room.
“I know this can’t be easy for you, but you have to believe me. I didn’t fucking do anything,” he pleads, dashing around to get in front of me.
“Why was she on your fucking lap, Shane!”
“That was wrong, and I’m sorry. I know it looks bad, but we never did anything.”
“Yeah, it looks bad. You should have been home with me. Instead, you were out touching someone else. Even if you didn’t fuck her, you were touching her when you could have been here with me.”
Nodding, he drops his head, closes his eyes, and puts his hands on his hips.
When he looks back up, he swallows and says, “Yeah, I fucked up. I fucked up a lot, but not anymore. I’m sorry.
I can’t even begin to describe how fucking sorry I am, but I can’t change any of that.
I can’t take it back, but I never fucked anyone else.
I never even kissed anyone else, because I love you. ”
“Yeah, you look like you really love me in that picture!” I stomp to our room and slam the door in his face before crawling into bed and crying myself to sleep.
I don’t know how long I’ve been out when Shane creeps in.
“Nikki?”
“What?” I ask, annoyed.
He moves to the bed and sits on the edge, and I wish the smell of his cologne didn’t make my shoulders immediately relax. He’s not my safety net, he’s the damn rip cord I keep pulling and praying I don’t fall to my death.
“I’m sorry.”
I groan. “Shane, I’m so tired of hearing you say you’re sorry.”
“I know, but what else am I supposed to say. I wish it never happened, but I remember parts of that night, and I know nothing happened with her.”
“Parts. Not all.”
“I was high, and Marcus had a party. That girl was into me. She came over and sat on my lap. I should have shoved her off, but I didn’t. I crossed a line flirting with her, but that’s all it was. I wasn’t in a good place, but I’d never do that to you.”
“But you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did. You could have been here with me, but you chose to be there instead.” When he doesn’t say anything, I sit up to look at him and damn near choke on my words as I say, “I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you completely.”
“I get that.” He places a hand on either side of my face, forcing me to look him in the eyes when he adds, “I’ll keep trying until you do, though. I want to be with you. Everything I’ve been doing is for us. All I want is us.”
“Okay,” I mutter.
I want us too, but this is so hard. Why does it seem harder to navigate the aftermath of his addiction than it was to handle the addiction itself?
“Okay?”
I nod, and he gives me a sad smile. “Nikki, I love you. And as shitty as the last seven years have been, I’ve loved every single moment I got to call you mine. I will do whatever it takes to make up for every time I’ve made you cry.”
The anger thrumming under my skin evaporates like steam, and my shoulders relax. “Yeah, I’m still mad, and I do not trust you, but I’ll try if you try.”
“Fair enough.”
After staring at me for a beat, his lips creep into a faint grin. Then, he climbs on top of me, pushing me back onto my back. “How about I start making it up to you now?” he asks with a devilish smirk, and I melt like I always do for him.