Chapter 34 Melanie
MELANIE
My skull throbbed like someone was pounding a drum behind my eyes.
I pressed my fingers hard into my temples, as if I could rub the ache away, but the pressure only sharpened the dull edge of exhaustion.
Sleep deprivation was its own kind of poison—slow, gnawing, and mean.
Not even the worst hangover could compete.
Mom and I had spent the whole day pretending—shopping, gorging on overpriced food, soaking in spa silence like we were still close.
But the moment we walked back into the house, and I saw the empty living room, something in me twisted.
I hadn’t expected Nick to be home. It was only nine.
But I’d hoped. God, I’d hoped he might’ve come back early.
That we could talk. That maybe… maybe I could fix this thing I’d made such a mess of.
But he wasn’t there.
And when I woke up at two a.m.—because apparently, my body now thought it was some kind of personal ritual—he still hadn’t come back. The silence was louder than any fight we could’ve had.
I peeled myself out of bed like my bones weighed double, stumbling through the kitchen routine.
Check blood sugar. Start coffee. Yesterday I’d blown my cover—forgot my insulin in the chaos of keeping up the facade, had to explain everything to Mom when I pulled a fast-acting pen from my purse like a damn magician revealing the truth.
She took it surprisingly well. Said she was proud of me.
Said it was time Richard saw I was “taking care of myself.” But I saw the angle.
The salon appointment? The glowing hair, the polished exterior?
It wasn’t about health. It was about control. About digging.
She knew something didn’t add up. She’s not stupid.
She did the math—diabetes diagnosis plus surprise marriage—and the equation didn’t sit right.
She wants answers. She wants the truth I can’t give.
And sitting in a hair salon chair pretending to be her little doll while she pokes at the mess I’ve made is the last thing I want to do.
I’m sick of pretending. Sick of lying. Sick of feeling like this girl I barely recognize—someone small and hidden and ashamed.
Nick and I started off as a lie. That was the whole point.
But the fact that I can’t stop obsessing over the look on his face, the fact that I can’t stand the idea that he’s disgusted with me for keeping this secret from my mother—it means something.
Doesn’t it? I’ve been texting him since two a.m., when the bed felt too cold and too empty and too quiet.
I made a stupid grilled cheese sandwich and sent him a picture of it like it was some kind of olive branch.
Pathetic. But it was my way of saying I missed him.
That I was sorry. That I wished he were here and that I didn’t know how to make this right with my mother breathing down my neck like a perfectly manicured vulture.
Now dread coiled in my chest like smoke as I poured coffee with trembling hands. I sat at the table and checked my phone again. One more time. Just in case.
Still nothing.
I scrolled through my messages, reading them back like I could rewrite them with hindsight. Did I sound desperate? Clingy? Would he think I was too much? Not enough?
I didn’t know the rules. I was new to this whole… relationship thing. And even though the marriage certificate said otherwise, I knew better.
We were still just pretending. So why did it feel so damn real?
2:01a.m. I woke up to get you but you weren’t here?
2:10 a.m. Did you sleep at the restaurant? Are you okay?
2:20 a.m. I’m sorry about my mom. She’s a lot to deal with, I know.
2:30 a.m. And I’m sorry I lied, You see how she can be, it’s part of why I did. I know that doesn’t make it right.
2:32: Ugh, I’m sorry. Will you please just talk to me?
2:38: I made you a grilled cheese.
The last text was the picture I sent with Loco and I holding up a grilled cheese sandwich.
I placed my phone back on the table face down and dropped my head into my hands. I was so embarrassed. No wonder he didn’t come home last night. I was acting like a five stage clinger. Then it dawned on me. Lifting my head up so fast I thought I sprained my neck.
What if he was with another girl last night? What if he slept with someone else?
My heart sank down to my stomach.
I had no right to ask, but I wanted to know. Can I be mad if he did? Sure, I can. We're married. We’ve been having sex too, so ya, I can get mad at him. I was entitled to be just like a real wife, right?.
Who was I kidding? We weren’t really a couple.
This was all an act, remember, Melanie.
Loco barked at me as if he was reading my mind.
“I know, bud.” If it was all an act, why did it seem like the only people we were fooling were ourselves?
The front door swung open, and I saw a pissed-off Nick storm through. He takes his shoes off one by one. And I immediately jump to my feet.
“Nick, hey,” I pushed my chair backwards as I raced over to him.
“I-Your-” He brushes past me and takes a water bottle from the fridge, downing it in one gulp.
I eyed him conspicuously. “Where have you been all night?”
Still downing the water until the last drop, he swipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, “None of your damn business.”
“Technically, it is. But I know you're upset if y-”
“Upset? No, I’m fucking livid. You literally would sit on the phone and pretend.” I see spit fly off his lips.. “Pretend you were having a full-blown conversation with your mom right in front of me. And the whole damn time, your mom wasn’t even on the phone!.”
“I wasn’t trying to complicate things, she’s nosey as you can see. But I never expected her to fly down here, not without me knowing anyway. She’s never done that.”
But that just goes to show how well I know my mom anymore and how much she’s changed. We used to tell each other everything. Now, we are familiar strangers, it seems like
“She didn’t have to. This is the first time you’re away from mommy.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is I’m the only one who looked like an ass when she showed up.”
I grabbed him by his hands. “Look, I'm sorry, okay. And I’m sorry she-”\
“She what? Called me trash? Told me I wasn't good enough for you since I’m not a multi-millionaire.”
Wait, was that what he was really upset about? That my mom didn’t approve of him and our fake marriage?
“Nick, you’re not trash.”
“Don’t act like you don’t agree. I see right past that bullshit. Let’s not forget what you called me when you first met me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Me? What about you? You weren’t exactly Prince Charming when I met you.”
“Ya, I wonder why. You were a straight-up bitch to me, when I tried to apologize on behalf of my idiot friend, just because I was in the military..”
His words slapped me across the face, making me feel small. He had a point, I was nasty to him, just like my mom, but I felt different now. Like I was falling, and I could only pray someone would catch me when I fell.
He opens the pantry and pretends like he’s looking for something. That’s it, I was done playing games and receiving the cold shoulder. I was trying to be real with him, but all he wanted to do was be mad at me and cover his true feelings up.
“Fine, you want to be pissed at me and hate me, go ahead. You should be happy to know I’m going away for a while.”
I see his knuckles turn white as he grips the doorknob tightly.
“I have to go help my mom out.”
“Help her do what?” He grits out, turning around to face me. “Are you getting an annulment?”
“Is that what you want?” I ask him.
“No,” he says so quickly, it gives me whiplash.
“Are you sure? Because you sure don’t act like you like me right now.”
“I’m pissed. Aren’t you the one who says married couples fight? Well, this is us fighting. I don’t like liars, and I don’t like it when you lie to me.” He slams a hand on his chest. “We are supposed to be honest with each other if this is going to work Mel.”
“What exactly are you talking about?”
“Our deal.” He nearly yells.
“Right,” I slowly nod my head, trying to hide my shattered heart from showing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered under my breath so softly, I barely heard myself. He lets out a long, exasperated sigh.
“I’m sorry too.”
My gaze darts to him. “You are?”
“Ya, I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
“Thanks, for apologizing but how come you didn’t come home last night? Where were you?”
“No, you don’t get to do that. Tell me why you are going to California.”
“Really? You aren’t going to tell me?”
“Fine, if I tell you, then you tell me what your mom needs you help with so bad that you have to leave.”
“Deal.” I crossed my arms across over my chest and stood up a little straighter
“I slept in my truck.”
“Nick! The temperature gets down to freezing at nighttime.”
“I slept inside the truck. And I’ve slept in worse conditions. Believe me, I was fine.”
“You didn’t have to avoid me. I wanted to talk to you about everything.”
“I’m not ignoring you now. So talk.”
“My stepdad is in trouble. Well, kind of. There are a bunch of women suing him, claiming that he raped them, and he coerced them into sleeping with him, so there’s a chance his case will go to trial and I’ll have to testify for him and tell him what a wonderful guy he is, blah blah blah, for it all to go away. ”
“What the fuck!”
I flinched at the sound of his voice. It was a loud rumble like lightning just struck our house. “Fuck no! You are not going to testify for that asshole. I won’t allow it.”
“Nick, I already told my mom I would. She was in damn near tears about all of this yesterday..”
“I don’t give a shit. You aren’t going to tell the world how great of a man he is, if anything, this should be your chance to tell your mom the truth.”
I raked a hand through my hair and tugged at the ends. “She won’t believe me.”
“Then I’ll fucking tell her.”