Chapter 22
Cody
I stand on the porch, the night air cooling against the back of my neck.
My heart is beating so fast it feels as though it might crack right through my ribs.
I have no idea what to do with the tension tightening my limbs.
I lift my hands, rubbing my palms together over and over again, trying to generate some sort of warmth while the silence of the street presses against my back.
The door swings open.
Rain stands there, her eyes searching mine in the dim light.
She doesn't say a word at first. She steps back, gesturing for me to enter the living room.
I walk inside, my posture rigid as she retreats toward the kitchen.
She returns a moment later holding a glass of water.
She brings it to her lips, taking a slow sip, before setting the glass down on the side table.
"What do you want to know, Rain?" I ask, my voice rough and breaking slightly.
She sits on the far edge of the couch, leaving a wide expanse of cushion between us. She looks up, her expression flat.
"Tell me everything," she says, her voice dropping into a careful, low register. "Tell me what you did, what you felt while you were doing it. Especially while you sat there in that room with her. Tell me why you picked up the call, when you had just finished making love with me."
The demand hits me like a physical blow.
As she speaks, my heart breaks all over again.
I close my eyes tightly, the hidden images from the past week playing behind my eyelids in a devastating, relentless loop.
How many times have I played this exact scenario in my mind?
How am I supposed to explain the truth when it feels so ugly?
"I am sorry, Rain," I whisper, my fingers curling tightly into the fabric of my trousers. "I had just told you that I loved you. I told you I was falling in love with you... and then that call came."
"When I saw the name, I felt torn," I confess, rubbing my palms against my knees. "I didn't know what to do. I was just curious, and that is why I picked it up."
"Why did you move away from me?" her voice cracks slightly, the small sound tearing at my gut. "Why did you crawl out of bed and make it seem like you were doing something wrong?"
"Because I was doing something bad in my mind," I say, forcing myself to maintain eye contact despite the shame burning my throat.
"I felt a sudden conflict. I thought... what if this is the time for Toria and me?
I knew something was wrong the second I stood in the corner of the room.
As I was speaking with her, I was imagining your heart breaking if you woke up.
But I was so selfish that I couldn't stop the wheel from turning.
I just wanted a sort of angle where I could close everything. I wanted closure."
Rain sits perfectly still, her hands resting on her lap. "So even when we slept together for the second time that night... why did you not feel any guilt? Why did you tell me upfront that you were traveling instead of staying with your family?"
"I felt sick to my stomach," I admit, my throat closing up.
"But I didn't know what to do. I felt like I needed to face the past to get the closure I promised you.
In my head, I felt that once I was done with everything, I would come back to this house and give you my all.
For a long time, Rain, I was unsure of my own life. I understand that now."
She offers a slow nod. I can see the deep, lingering hurt swimming in her eyes, but I refuse to sugarcoat the truth. She deserves the honesty I withheld for six years.
"So, what happened when you went there?" she asks, the final question hanging in the air like a stone.
My mind fractures, the present room fading away as the memories drag me back to Tuesday afternoon.
***
The hotel room smells of expensive jasmine and stale air.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn to see Toria standing near the window. She steps forward, wrapping her arms around my shoulders in a tight, familiar hug. I hold my posture rigid, my arms remaining at my sides before I slowly bring my hands to her back, stepping away to break the contact.
We take our seats opposite each other, the small table between us feeling like an unbridgeable canyon.
“Come sit on the bed, Cody,” she says, her voice soft as she signals to the mattress behind her.
“No,” I say, my voice flat.
A tightness grips my chest, and my breath catches. I look at her face. She is still as beautiful as she ever was; her features are exactly the same as the girl I loved in college. But looking at her now, I feel nothing. There is no freshness, no spark, no familiar warmth flooding my veins.
The sudden realization hits me like a physical blow: I am wrong for being here. My heart isn't in this room. It is back in the apartment with my wife.
“It’s been a while, Toria,” I say, trying to steady my breathing.
She offers a small smile, but the expression turns into a hard frown a second later. She studies my face, clearly seeing the rigid, defensive boundary I have drawn between us.
“I love my wife,” I say, my voice breaking on the final word.
Toria freezes, her eyes widening.
“She is the mother of my children,” I continue, the words pouring out with a fierce, quiet certainty. “She is my home. She is my peace. She is the woman I love.”
A single tear overflows her lashes, tracing a wet path down her cheek. “Why are you saying this now, Cody? You know that’s not what I called you for.”
“Because whatever it is you want to do, whatever it is you are here for, at the back of our minds we both know what this history is,” I tell her, my voice dropping into a lower register.
“I just want you to know where I stand. I want it known that she is my life.
I don't like you in that manner anymore.”
Toria bursts into tears, her shoulders shaking as she presses her palms against her face. “What about me, Cody? I divorced my husband because I thought... I thought I had a future with you. I thought we were waiting for each other.”
The declaration drops like a dead weight into the stillness of the room. My heart drops into a freezing void.
“I am sorry,” I murmur, the guilt twisting a knife between my chest.
Toria lowers her hands, her sobbing slowing down until her expression turns blank. “I’ve been working through the divorce because of that spark,” she whispers. “I just thought that now that we are both free from the past, we could be together.”
“No,” I say, giving a slow shake of my head. “I don't think I can do that. I can't be with you.”
***
The hotel room vanishes, and I am back on the living room sofa, my eyes opening to find Rain staring at me through the dim light.
“Why did you tell her all about us in the beginning?” Rain asks suddenly, her voice cracking as she stares at my rigid posture. “Why did you make sure she knew you didn't want the wedding?”
“Toria’s father called me, Rain,” I tell her, the truth rough in my chest as I explain what happened six years ago.
“He called me right after our wedding came up. He told me she was deeply depressed. She was struggling, drowning because of what was happening between us. I was torn. I felt bad because she was so invested in a future with me, and it felt like I had abandoned her to her pain. I pledged a sort of silent loyalty to her struggle back then, and it ruined the foundation of our marriage before it even started.”
"So why didn't you come back immediately?" she asks, her voice tight. "Why did you stay away for the whole week?"
"I wanted to clear my head," I explain, my voice breathless and rough. "But I did try to reach you, Rain. I swear I did."
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. "I never got a single call from you, Cody. Not one."
I reach into my pocket, my hand unsteady as I pull out my phone. I scroll until I find it, then hold the screen out toward her. "Look."
She takes the phone slowly, her eyes moving across the screen. I watch her face as she reads the words I typed on the plane, before I even landed.
I know how this looks. I went to see Toria but its to end it, not start it again. I will be home in a few days. I'm sorry.
A small red exclamation mark sits beside the message. Not delivered.
"I thought it went through," I say, my throat tight. "I checked my phone that whole first night, waiting for you to reply, and when nothing came back, I told myself you were just angry. I didn't know until I landed back home and saw it still sitting there, unsent."
She stares at the screen for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the words without touching them. "You wrote this before you even got there."
"Yes."
"And you thought I was ignoring you." Her voice is quiet now, stripped of its edge. "For a whole week, you thought I saw this and chose to say nothing back."
"Yes," I say again, the shame of it sitting heavy in my chest. "I let myself believe that instead of checking. That's on me too."
The weight of my mistakes becomes too much to support. I slide off the cushions, dropping to my knees on the carpet right in front of her. I reach out, my trembling fingers wrapping around her hands, holding them tightly.
“I am sorry, Rain,” I breathe, the air catching in my throat. “I know you might not believe it right now. I know everything I am telling you just makes me feel like a criminal under investigation.”
Rain looks down at our joined hands, her eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion. “When did you know that you loved me, Cody?”
“I knew I loved you the moment I saw you birthing our son,” I confess, a tear finally escaping my eye to drop onto her fingers. “I was just so used to the old idea that Toria was the one. To be honest, it wasn't easy to untangle myself from that ghost. But I see the truth now.”
She pulls her hands back slowly, escaping my touch. “I see. But how do I know that? How do I trust that you stayed there and didn't do anything with her? There was no hope for us for six years, Cody. Why should I believe you now?”
"I can get you the proof," I say, my voice rising with a desperate edge.
"Don't worry about it tonight," she says, her voice turning cold as she stands up from the sofa. "Some other time. Come back tomorrow, Cody. I need you to leave."
I give a nod, standing up from the floor.
I walk out into the dark night, climbing into the Range Rover to drive back to my empty house.
I want to rest. I want to close my eyes and forget the heartache I feel, but a persistent whisper warns me from the shadows.
If you don't press on now while the iron is still hot, you will lose her forever.
Movement overrides logic. I rush into my home office, tearing through the stacks of files on my desk until my fingers lock onto the papers. The plane tickets.
I grab the documents, sprint back to the car, and speed through the dark streets toward her neighborhood.
When I pull up to her curb, the night is still dry.
I step out of the vehicle and walk up the path to her front porch.
I begin knocking on the wood. I knock over and over again, the hollow sound echoing into the dark neighborhood, but the house inside stays perfectly quiet.
I wait, the seconds counting down, and the temptation to run back to the safety of my car flashes through my mind.
But I know I can't leave. I need to end this right now.
I keep knocking, my knuckles aching against the wood, when a sudden sheet of rain begins to fall from the sky. Within seconds, the drops are drumming violently against the porch roof, the wind driving the downpour sideways until my clothes are soaked through.
I refuse to turn back. I reach into my pocket, my wet fingers wrapping around my phone to dial her number.
The line clicks open.
“Rain, please,” I chatter, my body shivering violently under the sudden freezing downpour. “Please open the door. I need to show you the evidence. I have the tickets. I booked a flight to a different city the very next morning to leave her. Please, just look at the dates.”
A pause stretches through the receiver, filled with nothing but the sound of the storm.
The lock clicks. The door swings wide open. Rain stands there, panic loosening her features as she takes in my drenched clothes and shivering frame.
“What are you doing out in the rain?” she screams over the storm, her hands reaching out to pull my sleeve. “Come inside!”