Chapter 37 #2
So I do. I hang up, make a plan, and execute one thing at a time.
The day after I open my own account, reroute the royalties, call the bank. Spend hours in a lawyer's office, asking like an idiot about liabilities and joint assets.
I get why people don't divorce—it's not paperwork, it's a punishment. A labyrinth of nightmares.
But none of it touches the bigger nightmare: Ben.
First, his flight was delayed. Then he was home but... not.
Day one: straight to the hospital.
Day two: ER disaster, I'll call soon.
Day three: collapsed projects, collapsed excuses, collapsed me. No hello, not even a glimpse of his shadow in my doorway.
And me, stupid me, waiting like some parody of a lovesick fool. Yoga mat unrolled, but I can't remember what exhale feels like. Supermarket trips, hoping for the chance encounter that never happens.
My boyfriend lives one floor up, but the moon seems closer.
By day five, at ten o'clock, the knock finally comes. I rip open the door and there he is, in his scrubs, head bowed, like he already knows what's coming.
"You," I spit, arms over my chest. "I don't know if I should kiss you, punch you, or scream until the cops show up."
"Emma." He pulls air into his chest like it weighs tons. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
I blink, stunned at how repentant he sounds, and step aside.
He shuffles across the room to the barstool and sinks onto it, head down, eyes low until they finally lift to me.
Really? No arms? No kiss?
My blood calcifies, then boils.
"That's it?" I snap, standing in front of him. "This is the reunion? After nine days? Five of them in San Francisco, and you couldn't find two seconds to show me you're alive? I didn't sleep. Couldn't eat. What the hell is going on with you?"
"I know. I'm such a fucking asshole, I'm sorry." His hand flies to me, wanting me to take it, but when I don't, he slams it onto his thigh. "I should have been here. I should have crawled to you on my knees."
My eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm sorry you had to wait. It was just... a lot. These days were a nightmare."
I take him in properly. He looks terrible.
Not my sunlit Ben, who carried me laughing across the bedroom.
There are creases in his shirt matching the ones in his face.
I wonder if the ER wrung him out, made him pay this much for taking so many days off?
But it doesn't matter. He doesn't get to disappear on me, then crawl back with nothing but sorry.
"Stop apologizing. Stop." My fists curl by my thighs. "Tell me why you left me waiting."
"Can you sit down?" He points at the stool next to him.
"No."
"Please."
"No!"
"Listen to me. You should sit down." His voice tips from pleading into command but it won't work this time.
"No. Just speak. Or I swear I'll smash everything in this place. I've had enough," I snap.
When he sees how unwavering I am, he pulls on his hair until it spikes, sucks in air, and then looks at me. His eyes plead. They crumble. "There was... a pregnancy."
I blink, my mind stuttering. My mouth drops. "Did something happen to Mara?"
He drags in another breath. "No. Not... not her."
"Not Mara?" I step closer, frowning. "Then who?"
His chest rises and falls, fists curling, unclenching, curling again.
Then it hits me, the one name I don't want to say. My eyes shoot wide open. "You mean... Lisa?"
His face caves in the smallest way, and that tiny confirmation is enough to have me stagger back, hitting the cold fridge.
"Emma, let me—"
A laugh claws out of me, high and hysterical. "No. No. This is... you're joking. Lisa can't be pregnant. Tell me this is some sick joke, Ben."
He blows out a breath instead of an answer. Shakes his head.
I feel my throat tightening to the point I might suffocate.
"How?! How is it possible? You told me you weren't with her. Handed it yourself without me asking. Have you been lying?"
"No, I didn't!"
"This whole time?"
"No!"
"While I loved you?!"
He rises, hands shooting up like he's surrendering to a firing squad. "No! Jesus Christ, no. Don't say that. Don't make me that man. I already hate myself enough—I couldn't survive you hating me too. Listen to me—"
My hand smacks against the counter before I can stop myself. "I don't want any excuses! Tell me the truth. How did it happen if you didn't sleep with her?!"
"It... it must've been..." He chokes on the rest when he sees me dying inside, then forces it out: "The last time we slept together."
That lands like a sucker-punch into my gut. I grip my ribs to stay upright, to preserve some dignity, but it's leaking out anyway. My chest is an unzipped suitcase, blood and love and every damn dream spilling across the floor, irretrievable.
"When? When was that?"
"Emma, calm down—"
"WHEN, BEN?" I scream. "When's the last time you fucked her?"
He takes a step closer, voice low, "I think a day or two... before I kissed you, before the tent."
"You think?!"
Can't. Breathe. My fist closes so violently on the bracelet he gave me that I feel metal carving flesh—the reminder of my idiocy.
Bile rushes up my throat as the image of them invades my head. I try to shake it off. No. No. Don't do this to me. I can't. But it's there. His skin on hers while she's raking her nails on his back. His mouth pressed in places where I thought it was only for me.
My stomach surges. My head falls into the sink, gagging on nothing.
"Emma. Let me hold you." Ben steps behind me, but I push him away.
"Don't touch me. Don't you dare. You lying bastard," I hiss.
"I didn't lie!" His roar shreds the air like thunder. "I'm telling you the truth, about her, about us. I swear to god, I didn't know. I didn't fucking know!"
He storms toward the main door and his fist hammers on the wall. The sound rattles through the walls and me.
For a beat, I stare blankly at the hole where his fist left a mark, then at his heaving chest and shocked face, like he just realized what he's done.
He looks at his swollen knuckles with disgust and his voice comes out gutted but sure. "I will fix this."
"Fix this?" My laugh is bitter. "You think you can smile your way out of this? This is a baby we're talking about!"
"I will fix it, I swear, Emma—"
"Don't," I cut in, my voice a blade. "Don't say my name anymore. I knew it. Knew something catastrophic was coming, because with you it always does. You don't just enter my life—you demolish it."
"That's not true," he says, voice firm.
"It is! Every single time!"
"Not this time!" he shouts. "All I ever wanted was to be with you, to show you how much I changed. I swear it to you! Why do you think I stayed in New York? To prove it. I was getting us an apartment. I was trying—"
"You what?" I cut in, frowning.
"Yeah! We were so happy there! I could give you anything in New York," he rushes out, and then his voice falters. "I wanted us to start our life as soon as possible."
My soul just capitulates at this point.
Now I see why he was so secretive, and I can't even be angry about it because while he was gone, I realized that's what I wanted as well.
But now I feel pathetic, because it's ruined with months-old fingerprints of another woman all over it.
"But you're going to be a father, Ben. I can't survive that. I can't," I say, voice trembling.
My knees buckle. He lunges, catching me mid-collapse, arms crushing me to his chest. His heartbeat hammers against my ear, frantic, even now in perfect sync with mine.
"Trust me," he says into my hair, voice breaking. "I'd give anything—fucking anything—to change it. To rewind time..."
For one suspended second I let myself sag into him.
The scent of his skin invades me and I hate him, and hate how I give in, because even now, through all that hate, he's the only thing keeping me alive.
My chin dips into that familiar groove of his chest, soaking it with my tears while the fridge hums in the background, a low, indifferent buzz echoing the noise inside me.
Then rage crystallizes, all at once, and my hands push against his chest.
"Go away."
His hands stiffen, but don't break away. "No. Emma. Please. Don't do this."
"Ben, I'm not asking. I need space. If you ever loved me, leave," I say, trying to push him again.
He grips me tighter, desperate. "I do love you. I love you more than anything in this goddamn world, and it kills me that I'm the one hurting you. If I could gut my chest and give you my heart, you'd see it's all you—you in every chamber." He slides down onto his knees, hands on my waist.
I frown through the blur of my tears and grab the plate that sits on the draining board next to me. It's airborne before I even realize I've moved.
"I SAID LEAVE!"
The glass shatters all across the wall, making both of us freeze.
For a moment, we just stare at it, before he exhales roughly and rises without a word.
And then there's nothing but his shadow gone from the door, and me standing in the shards.