What We Choose

Chapter Thirty-Seven Paul #2

I would just forget, and we would have little tiffs, I would promise to do better, and that would be resolved quickly. Just normal stuff every couple goes through, the same stuff Brian and Chris would talk about with their last relationships.

Did I follow through on my promises?

No.

Sophie would just fix it.

Emotionally? Sophie listened to me, saw me, and understood my struggles.

I felt heard in a way no one had before.

I felt like I could tell her anything, all my hopes of the future, my fears of not measuring up in my parents and the town's eyes.

I could trust her in a way I couldn't even trust my friends, because I knew she would never judge me or use anything I said against me.

Did I do that for her?

No.

I just... I felt inept with the emotional stuff.

Painfully, I can remember the times she tried to open up—about her parents, about her insecurities, about how she sometimes felt invisible—and I always.

.. shut down inwardly. I didn't know what to do with that.

I never experienced anything like that before, so I had no idea what to say.

If she were upset, I would just initiate sex, because I figured an orgasm or two could make her feel better. Or I would hold her and tell her that I love her, because that always made me feel better. In fact, many of the things I did or said to her were just things that made me feel better.

Consuming.

And Elise... Elise was just there all the time at work.

She was light and flirtatious and nothing real.

She didn't ask me for anything emotionally.

It was fun talking to her about easy things, about innocuous nonsense.

Refreshing after the serious talks I would have with Sophie about life, future mortgages, and bills.

And, well, Elise was hot, charming, and fresh. We walked around City Hall, and people looked at her with lust and me with envy...

Well, it felt good to be that guy.

I consumed that too.

I had the best of both worlds—a gorgeous woman clinging onto me at work, and another gorgeous woman in my bed at night—I had my cake, and I ate it too.

And then the cancer scare happened, and I found out who I really was. How big a coward I could be. I couldn't be bothered to fucking hang around for the woman I loved. Decided it was easier to be a scared little shit than be brave for my future wife, who was about to battle a terrible sickness.

In sickness and in health...

And now, as she battles the said sickness, she seems to be conquering it.

With the help of new friends, of my family—

With the help of Callum.

The image of them kissing flashes across my eyes, and I momentarily feel sick.

"Granted, I'm only hearing your side," Dr. Forseti says softly, "but from what you've shared, there seems to have been an imbalance."

"There was," my voice cracks, my eyes stinging. "I just... I thought I was a good fiancé. I really thought I was."

"Paul, I think the cracks were there before the cancer." Dr. Forseti says, her voice gentle. "I believe you loved her. She sounds easy to love. But perhaps you loved her in the way you needed love—not in the way she needed it."

I nod my head, agreeing. She was so easy to love because.

.. well, she didn't really ask me for much.

She was incredibly capable and independent, taking care of things on her own and standing on her own two feet.

I know how important that was to her, not to rely on or need anyone unless necessary.

I know she loved me, wanted me around, and took care of me.

But when she finally needed me...

"You had an emotional affair before it became physical," she states clearly, and hearing it causes me to flinch because it's the truth. "That shows me that cracks were already there. Before Elise."

The name makes me sick.

Taking a deep breath to clear the nausea, I let it all out. "I was sharing personal information with someone who wasn't the woman I love, I was looking at someone who wasn't my fiancée, I was enjoying spending time with another woman."

Dr. Forseti nods encouragingly at me, giving me the motivation to continue.

"I just thought it was harmless, but it was opening a door that I sprinted through at the first sign of trouble.

The fucking affair. Elise. It gave me a guilt-free escape.

So that I could say that Sophie broke up with me, so that I could soothe my own conscience.

Or maybe even shift the blame to Elise. She's hot, and she seduced me, so how could I resist? How could any red-blooded man resist?"

I press my palms into my eyes, clenching my jaw to force the tears back. Tears of frustration, of anger, at myself. My cowardice. My stupidity. My inability to think about the consequences before I take action.

I growl out, my whole body shaking. "Fuck! It's not true—I cheated on Sophie. Me. I did. No one else chose that but me."

A small, but true smile spreads across Dr. Forseti's face, almost like pride.

And God, if I don't feel slightly lighter at the admission, at the truth laid out on the table.

"I think you two had a good relationship... but people change, people get sick, people grow as people and grow in different directions."

"I just... I don't get it. Why would I do this? To Sophie. She was... what is wrong with me? I thought I was happy. I was happy..."

"I think we've reached the fact that you can sit in what you did, you can admit it clearly, and you've taken ownership of your mistake.

Now, we need to find the why. For this, you will need to be completely honest with yourself.

Completely, Paul. When you understand the why, it's easy to recognize it in the future.

So... are you ready to be honest with yourself? "

"Yes," I huff a dry laugh. "I think I finally am. I do genuinely believe we were happy. Sure, we argued, I snapped at her, she snapped at me. Like all couples, dating Sophie was just so easy. She would do anything for me—did everything for me. I just thought... that was like her love language."

"Acts of service?" she asks, and I nod my head. "Love languages aren't scientifically accurate, but they can be a good framework for how our partner wants to be treated and loved."

"Whenever Sophie would do things for me—cooking, cleaning something of mine—she would tell me with a small smile, like she was waiting for something.

I would thank her... kiss the fuck out of her," I smile at the thought, remembering her sweet giggles against my mouth.

"And she would beam so bright. It made her happy to do those things for me. "

"What do you think your love language is?"

"Physical touch," I answer immediately.

Dr. Forseti's face twists at that answer.

"What were your other relationships like?"

"They were all... physical. Nothing real.

Sophie was the first woman I ever connected with.

I couldn't believe how lucky I was when I met her.

She was the full package—beauty, brains, funny, kind, great in bed—" I wince at that, and Dr. Forseti's face doesn't move, just keeps looking at me in that way, almost encouraging.

I take a deep breath and continue, "I felt a little off balance when we started dating, but she let me get my bearings.

Everything just seemed to work out easily.

She got a job in Boston and moved to Starling Cove with me, and we settled into my hometown.

All my friends liked her, my family adores her—still does—and the town embraced her.

We were building a life together. She was just so easy to be with. "

"And was it easy because of who Sophie is?" she asks, voice calm. "Or because she was carrying most of the mental load?"

My silence is the answer, and Dr. Forseti nods her head in understanding.

"I don't know how I didn't realize... I don't know how I let her carry it without realizing we were cracking.

She was always so strong and composed. She would bring up issues, and I would listen—or, I thought I listened because the issue would never be brought up again. I had thought we had resolved them."

The memories flash across my eyes—Sophie reminding me to schedule a doctor's appointment, and then doing it for me. When Sophie asked me to call the dealership to schedule maintenance, she just did it for me when I didn’t.

When Sophie reminded me to pick up a birthday card for my mom, she ran out to the store when I forgot.

"But I think she was the one who adjusted to fix it, not me," I choke out. "She would just do it herself."

"You said she had a more difficult childhood, right? Her parents were neglectful?"

"Yeah, she was a... an accident, she said. They paid more attention to her older sister."

"I think that might have just been conditioned in her," Dr. Forseti shrugs, "To make a feast out of a basic meal."

"How did I not see?" I whisper, my voice hoarse.

"Sometimes these cracks start so microscopic that they're not even able to be noticed until they become too big to be ignored. Most men say that physical touch is their love language because sex is, in most cases, more important to men. Did you guys have a good sex life? Was it equal?"

"Yeah, we had a... a great sex life," I tell her truthfully, shifting in my seat when I think of our times together in the past. Sophie was an incredible lover.

"The best sex I ever had, if we're being honest, and that includes Elise.

It was the thrill with Elise. With Sophie, it was the whole woman. "

"And after she brought up these issues she had, would you initiate sex?" Her face is more knowing when she asks this, and I can feel myself pale. "Sometimes, people can use sex as a band-aid. As a way to smooth over issues or forget about them entirely."