I needed to cool off and so did he, so I grabbed my phone, wallet, and keys, and I got the hell out of there.
I drove a couple of blocks until the house was no longer visible in the rearview. Then I pulled over and parked, and as the engine idled, I swiped at my eyes. It was pointless, though—the tears were coming whether I liked it or not.
This was wrong. All wrong.
I was devastated and angry, and I was also scared. Any time Will and I fought hard enough that one of us needed to go cool off, the fear would settle in—what if this was it? What if we couldn’t come back from this? This wasn’t just a fight over finances or whatever. This was someone else we’d both been having sex with and who I’d developed feelings for, and I couldn’t help thinking this was along the lines of how things would have blown up if one of us had cheated. It hurt, and it was terrifying.
Our arguments were rare, and our big fights came around with all the frequency of the odd comet, but whenever they did, I was haunted by mental images of some of Tom’s clients. There was a specific set of divorce clients who were always easy to pick out from the others in our reception area or walking down the hall between our offices. They were the spouses who’d been served out of the blue, or those who were filing because they’d discovered infidelity. They were lost. Confused. Numb. Utterly shaken by the realization that their partner was gone. The life and the home that they’d thought were forever…weren’t. Those clients reminded me of some of his estate clients—those who were trying to execute wills and divide up estates when they really just wanted to curl up somewhere and grieve.
It was those clients who scared the hell out of me whenever things between Will and me were off. Because divorces weren’t just screaming matches and two people who hated each other so much they couldn’t remember why in the world they’d ever gotten married. I didn’t imagine that would ever be Will and me. There was just a part of me who’d seen a few too many shell-shocked divorcees wondering what in the hell had gone wrong.
What if that was me someday? What if Will got fed up with my long hours, or my needs in the bedroom, or getting attached to Kelly, or just…me? What if it was me sitting in Tom’s office, unable to grasp even the most basic procedures and logistics because I didn’t want Will to be gone?
I was getting ahead of myself. Will hadn’t thrown me out. I’d left. I could go back.
But what if he didn’t let me back in? What if there was nothing for me to come back to? What if he really had decided that all the reasons we’d gained and lost Kelly were more trouble than they were worth, and that he was done dealing with my bullshit?
I’d been too much of a coward to talk to him. We’d always been so good at communication, even when the subject was difficult, but I hadn’t been able to find the words, and now…
Now I didn’t know what to say.
Or how to say it.
Or if Will would want to hear it.
Or if he’d still be there after I did.
Running my fingers along the leather collar beneath my shirt, I squeezed my eyes shut, not even trying to stop the hot tears that slid free.
What have I done to us?
Forty-One
Kelly, Aaron, & Will
Kelly
This house had almost started to feel like home. The more I’d exorcised the demons of my dad’s disapproval, the more it had felt like a safe place that was well and truly mine.
And Aaron and Will had been here. Their voices had echoed off the high ceilings of the kitchen-living room. Will had helped me pull some of the chaos into order, and he’d made me come so hard I’d forgotten all about why I’d been stressed.
Now they were gone. Or, well, I was gone. I’d walked away from them. Whatever. In any case, the house was bigger and emptier and colder than it had been before, and I had no idea what to do about that. Or about any of this.
Who the hell was I supposed to talk to? The guys had been my closest friends ever since I’d come to Laurelsburg. My only friends,