15. Tori
TORI
“Just hang in there, lady,” Grace said. “I know everything sucks right now, but it won’t be like this forever. And whatever you decide to do, I’m here for you. I’m here for all of it.”
I was sprawled out on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, with the cordless house phone tucked between my shoulder and my ear.
Surrounding me were clumps of used tissues and a bunch of little tin foil wrappers from the bag of bite-size dark chocolates Michelle had dropped off outside my bedroom door along with a stack of romance novels. Comfort, delivered.
“Thanks,” I said, wiping away a stray tear. “But I don’t even know where to start.”
“I don’t want to sound like an obnoxious Instagram yogi or anything, but you can start by being kind to yourself,” she suggested gently. “And stop thinking you have to figure it all out in three days. My breakups were always hell, remember? Ryan Evans, junior year?”
“Oh god, I remember,” I said. “That was bad. You cut off all your hair, flashed the entire football team at a pep rally, and cried through first period Latin every morning for weeks.”
“It was a rough time,” she said defensively.
“And then, the last day of school before Christmas break, you shoved an entire pound of thin sliced limburger cheese through the slot in his locker so it would rot in there over the holidays.”
“Tori!” she gasped in mock horror. “You said you’d never speak of it again!”
“That was pretty diabolical,” I mused.
“Well if you feel like a little revenge-cheesing is in order, let me know.”
I laughed. It was probably the first time I’d felt my mood lift since I’d left Chicago.
“Anyway,” Grace went on, “I gotta run to a marketing thingy for my handbags, but let me know when you’re ready for wine and cookie dough and Jane Austen movie night, okay? Just say the word. Ooh, and p.s., I’m sending you one of my purses! You’re going to love it.”
We said goodbye and I went out into the hallway to hang the phone back up on its cradle. Talking to Grace had been good—great, actually—but it was mostly just a temporary distraction from the disaster that my life had turned into.
The deadline Emzee had given me for coming clean to Stefan was tomorrow, but I had no idea what to say to him when I called. If I had thought that a few days would give me time to sort things out in my head or help me become braver, I had been sadly mistaken.
If anything, I felt even more confused and worried than ever about what I was supposed to do.
My heart ached for my husband, but my mind kept telling me that leaving him was the best thing to do in the long run.
That he belonged with Anja. And his son.
That if I stuck around, at best I’d be a third wheel.
At worst, I’d have to watch my husband fall back in love with the first woman he’d ever cared for.
Still, I resolved to call him first thing in the morning. Emzee was right, I owed him an explanation. Especially considering all the upheaval he was going through in his life right now.
I’d strap on my emotional bulletproof vest, pick up that phone, and tell him I understood that he loved Anja, and that he needed to try and make it work with her, try to be a family with her and their son.
But even thinking the words sent me off on another crying jag.
It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I wondered if I would always feel this way.
Exiling myself inside for the past few days had only made me feel worse.
More isolated, more trapped. I had to get out of the house.
Rifling through my closet, I found some old running shoes, workout clothes, and a thick, down-filled Lululemon vest. After pulling on a knit hat and gloves, I went out for a run.
Technically, it was more of a jog-and-walk.
I stretched for a few minutes and then took off, following the same route through the neighborhood that I used to sprint in high school.
I quickly realized that my fitness level wasn’t what it used to be back when I was forced to run laps regularly in gym class.
Still, I leaned into the familiar burn in my lungs, the ache in my muscles, the hard slap of my shoes against the sidewalk.
It was probably forty degrees outside, but by the time I got back to the house I was sweating and had unzipped my vest.
“Why are you so out of breath?” Michelle asked, all dolled up and about to walk out the front door with her purse over her arm.
“Running,” I panted. “Went for a jog.”
My stepmother wrinkled her nose. “If you want to work out, darlin’, just use the home gym. It’s freezing out there. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“Thanks,” I said, not wanting to explain further. “I’ll do that next time.”
I stopped in the kitchen to chug a glass of water and then headed upstairs, my whole body vibrating with the exertion. But although I’d gotten my blood flowing, the agony of losing Stefan still remained just as strong. There was no running from the breakdown of my marriage.
Exhausted physically and mentally, I went back up to my bedroom, stripped off my clothes, and then shut myself in my bathroom for a good, long soak.
I didn’t even wait for the water to fill the tub all the way before I climbed in, curling tight around myself and letting the hot water and bath salts do their work.
Once the water was a few inches from the lip of the bathtub, I turned off the taps and let myself sink into it. Grace was right; I needed to be kind to myself. There was no way I was going to have all the answers.
But I just couldn’t imagine my life without Stefan. He was the one I wanted to be with. The one I wanted to grow old with.
Leaning back, I let my tears fall. There was no point trying to fight them.
A few minutes later, I was all cried out.
The heaviness in my chest had eased a little, and my muscles had relaxed in the steamy water.
It felt good. I was about to get out of the tub when I heard a commotion downstairs.
Someone banging on the front door, an exchange of voices.
Had Michelle forgotten something? Was my father unexpectedly home early?
I settled back in the tub, wrapped my arms around my knees, and tilted my head to listen.
There were footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later my bathroom door burst open.
It was Stefan, hair disheveled, out of breath, the picture of concern and anxiety.
“Tori.”
“Stefan—”
But he was already kneeling beside the tub, pulling me into his arms, heedless of the hot water and bubbles that were soaking his nice suit and spilling onto the floor.
“What are you doing here?” I said, letting him hold me. “Why did you come?”
We were sitting on the plush bath mat, my body naked and slick in Stefan’s embrace. It was almost like he was trying to wrap his entire body around me, and I leaned into him, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne, not caring that I was probably ruining his shirt and his tie.
“Because you ran away from me, and I fucking need you.” His voice was angry and desperate. “Anywhere you go, I’ll follow. I love you.”
“But—” I started.
“Listen to me,” he said, easing his grip to look me in the eyes. “We might have been thrown together unwittingly for political reasons, just our fathers’ pawns in an arranged marriage, but I made those vows to you—not to Anja. You’re the one I want to be with.”
“How can you say that?” I murmured. “You married me before you even knew she was still alive. Now that she’s back, there’s not even a choice.”
“You’re right,” he said. “There isn’t a choice. There never was. Because between the two of you, I choose you. Nobody else. I don’t even need to think about it.”
“You haven’t given it a chance,” I insisted. “She’s the mother of your child. What if you’re giving up the best part of your life for me? The chance to be a family?”
“You are my family, Tori. And I will always stay true to you, because I can’t imagine living a life without you,” he went on.
“I…I feel the same,” I admitted. “I don’t want to live without you. I want us to build a life. Together.”
“Good. Because I made my vows already, and I’m standing by them.” Searching my gaze, he took a deep breath. “Are you going to keep your vows too, for better or worse, and love me through thick and thin, ‘til death do us part?”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course I am.”
Stefan held me even tighter, kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders, giving me goosebumps and sending a shock of hot tension straight between my legs.
“But what about Anja?” I asked, refusing to let myself be distracted. “You love her. She was your first…everything. You’ve been looking for her for all these years. How can you just walk away from that?”
He eased back and exhaled slowly.
“I wanted to know what happened to her, Tori. I needed closure. That was it. I haven’t loved her for years. We’re not the same people we used to be—I don’t even know her anymore.”
“You could know her,” I argued. “You haven’t even tried.”
“I know you.” He was breathing hard, worked up into a frenzy, and he slid a hand up to cup my cheek just like he always did. “I love you. So stop fighting me. Stop fighting this.”
“I love you, too,” I said, pulling him closer for a kiss.
His mouth closed over mine, hot and needy, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and let myself get lost in the hard press of lips, the desperate slide of our tongues.
Even though I was wet and cold from the bath, my entire body suddenly felt warm and safe, secure in the unwavering steadfastness of my husband’s love.
“Don’t ever leave me like that again,” he whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” I whispered back.
I couldn’t believe he was here, right here in front of me, saying all these things, kissing me so hard I was gasping for air. It was an outcome better than I ever could have imagined.
And if it was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.