Take the Chance (Top Shelf Romance #9) - Brittainy Cherry Page 0,65

just change a little, if I just become a better wife…”

“You were the best wife out there, Mari. You were everything to him.”

Tears fell from her eyes. “Then why wasn’t I enough back then? He’s giving me another chance, and I can do better this time.”

It was crazy how fast it happened, how quickly my anger transformed into pure sadness for my sister. “Mari,” I said softly.

“Maktub,” she said, looking down at the tattoo on her wrist.

“Don’t do that.” I shook my head, hurting more than she’d ever know. “Don’t take our word and give it some kind of dirty meaning.”

“It means all is written, Lucy. It means everything that happens was meant to be, not only what you believe to be destined. You can’t only accept the positive in life. You must accept it all.”

“No. That’s not true. If a bullet is coming toward you and you have enough time to move, you don’t just stand there and wait for it to hit. You step sideways, Mari. You dodge the bullet.”

“My marriage is not a bullet. It’s not my death. It’s my life.”

“You’re making a huge mistake,” I whispered, tears falling down my cheeks.

She nodded. “Maybe, but it’s my mistake to make, just like it’s yours to make with Graham.” She crossed her arms and shivered as if a chill had found her. “Listen, I didn’t want to tell you like this but…I’m glad you know. My lease is up soon, so you’ll have to find a place. Look…we can still go on the hike if you want, to clear our heads.”

“You know what, Mari?” I grimaced and shook my head. “I’d rather not.”

The hardest part of life was watching a loved one walk straight into fire when all you could do was sit and watch them as they burned.

“You’ll stay with us,” Graham said over FaceTime from his hotel room in New York.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll find something. I’ll start searching the minute you get back in two days.”

“Until then you’ll stay with us, no ifs, ands, or buts. It’s fine. My house is big enough. I’m sorry, though, about Mari.”

I shivered at the thought of it all, at the idea of her going back to Parker. “I just don’t get it. How can she just forgive him?”

“Loneliness is a liar,” Graham told me, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he spoke. “It’s toxic and deadly most of the time. It forces people to believe they are better off with the devil himself than being alone, because somehow being alone means a person failed. Somehow being alone means a person isn’t good enough. So, more often than not, the poison of loneliness seeps in and makes a person believe that any kind of attention must stand for love. Fake love that is built on a bed of loneliness will fail—I should know. I’ve been alone all my life.”

“I hate that you just did that.” I sighed. “I hate that you just took my annoyance with my sister and made me want to go hug her.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. I can call her names if you’d…” His eyes narrowed as he stared at his phone. I noticed the panic in his stare instantly. “Lucille, I have to call you back.”

“Is everything okay?”

He hung up before I received a response.

Chapter 20

Graham

I was a master of stories.

I knew how a great novel came to exist.

A great novel didn’t involve tossing together words that didn’t interconnect. In a great novel, each sentence mattered, each word had a meaning to the overall story arc. There was always forewarning to the plot twists and the different paths the novel would travel down, too. If a reader looked closely enough, they could always witness the warning signs. They could taste the heart of every word that bled on the page, and by the end, their palate would be satisfied.

A great story always had structure.

But life wasn’t a great story.

Real life was a mess of words that sometimes worked, and other times didn’t. Real life was an array of emotions that hardly made sense. Real life was a first draft novel with scribbles and crossed out sentences, all written in crayon.

It wasn’t beautiful. It came without warning. It came without ease.

And when the novel of real life came to fuck you up, it made sure to knock the air from your lungs and leave your bleeding heart for the wolves.

The message was from Karla.

She tried to call me, but I sent her to