by C. M. Albert
“Liv?” His voice was laced with compassion I didn’t deserve. When I didn’t answer, he opened the door. “What happened?”
I moaned as I rested my cheek against the cool porcelain. “I can’t,” I said before tears started pooling.
“Are you going to get sick again? Do I need to call Ryan?”
“No!” I said a little too forcefully. I didn’t even know if he was home from work yet.
“What’s going on?” He bent over and scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. He carried me to the conversation nook off the kitchen and set me down gently onto the large, L-shaped couch. Then he went into the kitchen, where I could hear him rummaging around in the refrigerator. A few minutes later, he sat down next to me, casually wrapping his arm across the back of the sofa as he handed me a bottle of water.
“Are you sick?”
I shook my head. “It’s stress. The same thing used to happen to me in high school. Dr. Paul thinks it’s because I need to tell Ryan about—well, you know.”
“You’re ready to do that?” He looked relieved. I hated that I’d ever asked him to hold the lie with me.
“I’ll never be ready.”
He hugged me closer with the arm that was on the back of the couch. “Ryan loves you more than anything. There’s no way he won’t forgive you. It was one time.”
“It’s not the sex that’s going to destroy him.”
“Right. The truth pact.”
“He will never trust me again,” I sobbed. I couldn’t even blame him because I’d done the one thing we vowed never to do. My body shook against Brighton’s, and shame heated my cheeks. Because, even while grieving my epic betrayal, I still wanted nothing more than to curl into this man. Have him love away my pain again.
“Then he’d be a fool,” Brighton said. “You guys have been through so much together. You’ve been tested more than a couple should be. I was worried that throwing me into the mix was just going to make things harder. He was so sure it would be what you needed.”
“And it was,” I said, sitting up and looking into his pale green eyes. “It was exactly what I needed to start feeling alive again. You have no idea how empty I felt before I met you.”
I finally took a sip from the water bottle, the cold liquid burning my raw throat. “I feel so selfish for saying that, especially because of what it cost you. And Ryan.”
“I’m glad I could be there for you, Olivia. But we always knew there was going to be an expiration date on what we had. The open house is Friday. Ryan’s made it clear that the three of us are over. And I need to get back to my life in Watertown. There’s no room left for me here.”
That only made me cry harder. I’d gotten so spoiled over the summer, getting to see him and Ryan nearly every day. To have him just disappear—I wasn’t sure my heart could handle the absolute grief his absence would bring. Not on top of everything else.
“What if it didn’t have to end? What if you didn’t have to walk away from this?”
“Liv—there’s no way Ryan would ever consider something like that. I can’t let my heart go there. Besides, you need to focus on making things right with him now that you’re in therapy. Just promise me something?”
“Anything,” I said quietly. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Talk to him before the house sells. I’ll stay until it does. If you need me for anything after you talk to him, I’m just a yard away. I mean it,” he said, his eyes darkening. It was because of the fight that’d happened with Ryan the afternoon I made love to Brighton alone. Here in this house. It was Brighton who listened to me that day. Comforted me. Then he’d loved away any doubts I had left about whether I could really let him go. And yet, I wasn’t brave enough to do anything about it.
I nodded. I didn’t want Brighton to worry about me. I didn’t have a right to that part of his heart. But I had no clue how to say goodbye to the man who had changed our lives and opened my heart after feeling dead inside for so long.
“Promise me something, too?”
“Anything. It’s the least I can do.”
I ached to reach out and touch those dimples. Run my hand through his thick, blond hair. Feel his full lips on mine one last time. But that isn’t what I asked from him. “Promise you won’t leave without saying goodbye?”
This time, he gathered me into both arms and held on tight. I sank against him, drowning under his scent and the comfort of being close to him again after so many weeks.
“I had a feeling this is where I’d find you,” I heard from the kitchen entrance.
My body stiffened as I pulled away from Brighton and turned. I met my husband’s accusing eyes. “We were finishing the staging today, Ryan. This isn’t what you think it is.”
“Where have I heard that before?” The death stare he shot Brighton was full of silent accusations. Whole stories were passed between them in that one, intense gaze.
When he looked back at me, his brows furrowed in frustration. I knew that look; I’d screwed something up. “I see you were too busy to remember the alumni fundraiser tonight. I have to leave in twenty minutes, and you’re supposed to be dressed in cocktail attire by now.”
He ran his eyes over my body, and it felt as if he was reading every sordid secret it held. “Clearly you won’t be ready in time.”
“I can be ready. Just give me fifteen minutes.” I stood, putting some distance between Brighton and me. “Can I finish up the last items tomorrow?”
He was still glaring at Ryan, and I hated seeing anything but affection pass between them. But I knew what it was like to let fear and pain turn into anger. Ryan and I had been living in that limbo for years before Brighton moved into his Uncle Isaiah’s house at the beginning of the summer to renovate it.
“Sure, Liv,” he said, purposefully using Ryan’s pet name for me. There was a time not that long ago when Ryan told him he’d earned the right to call me that. I highly doubted that intimate offer was still on the table after all we’d been through.
I just wanted to go home and take a hot, fast shower—not manage a pissing contest between two testosterone-fueled men.
“When does the house go on the market?” Ryan asked, straightening the cuffs on his tuxedo. He was devastatingly handsome in it, the black a dashing compliment to his dark good looks and closely shaved beard.
“I was just telling Liv that the open house is on Friday. I hope you’ll both still come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Would we, Liv?” He held his hand out for me, the first time in weeks he’d instigated touch. “Coming?”
I let him lead me from the kitchen and across the yards to our perfect house, with the white picket fence and our sweet puppy, Stitch, who was jumping excitedly at the gate, waiting for our return. I glanced back at the Kerrington estate one last time before following Ryan inside. Brighton was standing at the door, his body just a shadow against the light that surrounded him.
Chapter Two
Ryan
I KNEW EXACTLY where Olivia was the moment I got home and didn’t find her getting ready. She’d known about the fundraiser for a year because it was always on the same day. Disappointment flooded through me, but if there was one thing I’d learned over the years, it was that Olivia couldn’t be controlled—not that I had any desire to clip her wings. She was always the wild to my holy, as she liked to say. Though, with the anger and sadness that lived inside me these days, I didn’t feel like the holy part of any equation.
After walking into Kerrington’s house and finding them alone there—with my wife in his arms no less—it was a slap in the face as far as I was concerned. I was still stewing when, fifteen minutes later, Olivia was dressed and ready to go. That alone spoke volumes about how far we’d come. Back in May, she wouldn’t have had the energy or desire to come to an event like this—no matter how important it was for my career. At least she was trying. But I wasn’t ready to forgive her. I could hardly look at her without images of her and Brighton being alone togethe
r haunting every crevice of my mind.
The fundraiser turned out being as droll and boring as ever, but the appetizers were impeccable, and everyone who needed to see me there did. Olivia even offered to drive us home so I could have a few beers. We were ready to leave when Kimber Shanahan and her husband stopped us.
“Ryan!” she said, air-kissing me on both cheeks.
Someone had been dipping into too much free champagne.
“Olivia,” she said curtly before turning back to me. “We’re so glad to have you back after your summer off. Did you get everything you wanted accomplished?”
Everyone knew why I’d taken the time off. After burying our daughter last November, Liv and I desperately needed the time alone to grieve and heal. But Kimber treated it as if we’d been vacationing in the Poconos. I looked at my wife, thinking not of our progress, but of Kerrington.
“I don’t know, hon. Did we?”
I wished I could take back my assholish response the moment Liv’s face paled, but I was hurting. Seeing her and Kerrington comforting each other today hadn’t helped.
“It was exactly what we needed,” she said with a tight smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. We were just heading home. It’s been a long day.”
“Oh, I bet!” Kimber said. She turned to her husband. “Olivia has been working intimately with a contractor to flip that old, green house over on West Liberty this summer.”
“That must’ve been quite the job overhauling that old dump,” he said, pulling a cigar from the inside pocket of his tuxedo.
“It’s quite spectacular, actually. And it’s gray now,” Olivia said calmly.
“Roycroft Pewter,” I retorted. She knew I didn’t give two shits about paint colors. That was her and Kerrington’s “thing.” When I thought about the dark plum paint they’d used for his front door—and his obsession with tulips of the same shade for my wife—anger burned beneath the surface of my skin, making my heart rate soar.
“I hear the open house is Friday,” Kimber said, glancing coyly from under thick, black lashes, despite her husband being right there. “Maybe we’ll swing by and check it out. We’ve been looking for a bigger place.”
Oh, hell no. The only thing worse than having my wife’s lover living beside us would be to have Kimber and her weaselly husband there instead. I’d buy the damn thing myself before letting that happen.
Olivia’s face was still pale as we said our goodbyes, but she never said a word as we drove away. The university was close to our house in the city, so it was an uncomfortable but short ride home. The first thing she did was go straight upstairs and strip out of her silver, beaded Mac Duggal, dropping the lacy ballgown to the floor like it was an old pair of dirty jeans. After she padded to the shower, I picked up the dress and hung it back in her closet. Then I plopped onto our bed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
I knew Liv was still hurting. I wasn’t a complete bastard. My heart ached for how hard it must’ve been to get through an evening like this, even after all her progress this summer. We hadn’t been around the entire faculty since Laelynn died, so people naturally wanted to offer their condolences. I watched as the light she’d worn to the event slowly faded from her eyes until all that was left to carry her up our creaky stairs when we returned home was an empty shell wrapped in despair.
When she got like this, there was no letting me in. So, I fixed myself a drink and sat on the back patio while Stitch relieved himself, then pounced on small frogs in the cool evening air. The plum-colored tulips had long since surrendered, but Olivia had spent an entire weekend replacing them with pompon dahlias of the same color. My backyard still screamed of Kerrington’s presence. Even though he was no longer living under our roof, his imprint was everywhere. I would never understand why, but for some reason, it caused an ache deep in my chest. I couldn’t pass by his bedroom and not remember the freedom and release we all shared there. I knew it would hurt, but I headed there now, not knowing exactly what I was looking for or needing. He’d been my friend first. Even though he was just a yard away, it felt as if he’d been torn from my life completely, the distance was so vast between us now. It would take just one word from me to tamp the tension between us so we could be friends again. But until I knew for sure whether Liv was lying to me—and I felt in my bones that she was—that wasn’t going to happen.
Maybe I needed to have a conversation with him instead of Olivia. If she wasn’t ready to tell me the truth, maybe he would—man to man.
I looked around the large, first-floor guestroom and immediately felt a visceral kick to my gut, my chest tightening. This is where we’d unraveled Olivia’s grief, loving her until she was so raw and vulnerable again, she had nowhere left to hide. God, I’d been stupid to think we could walk away from something like that with no repercussions. As much as I hated to admit it, the jerk was still in my heart. How could he not be in Liv’s, too?
I was on my way out the door when a piece of paper caught my eye from the top of the desk. I picked it up and unfolded it, not sure if I was going to like what I saw. The last time something like this happened, I’d found proof of my wife’s feelings as she bled her love all over the rendering that she’d sketched of him. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she loved him then—and she confirmed it when I confronted her. Because that’s what we did. We told the truth.
That is, until she decided not to. Until she chose to deliberately lie straight to my face when I asked her point-blank if she’d fucked him when I wasn’t there.
No.
Funny how one simple word could decimate a marriage so wholly, so quickly. I saw the way the guilt ate at her since then. Knew she was finally talking to her therapist. I hoped one day she’d start talking to me again, too. Because this in-between business was torture.
I looked down at the paper and realized the letter was addressed to me.
Ryan,
We’ve been through some stuff, haven’t we? Remember when you sat me down at the Crown and Feather and asked me to help you? What was the one thing we promised? Honesty above all else. I’m sorry if I ended up hurting you. I never meant to. Just like I never meant to fall in love with Olivia. You have to believe me.
On days when you’re mad at me, or at her, just remember that we weren’t the ones who started this. But even now, I don’t regret it. Because you were right.
When Olivia’s happy, there is nothing more beautiful in the world. I will always love her, just as I will you. (As a friend, dude, so relax.) As funny as it sounds, this summer was the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want you to hate me, either. I know it hurts to see me around, and I wish I could change that. I guess it’ll just take time. I hope someday I can have you both in my life again, somehow. For now, go easy on her. She’s trying, and we all made mistakes.
She loves you more than anything in the world. You know that, so don’t push her away. Forgive her. Keep being the rock she needs. She’s come a long way since I first met her. You have, too. Though you could stand to lose the scowl. (Just sayin’.)
I’ll leave you with my favorite quote from a remarkable human named Stephanie Johnson. “At all times, people are doing one of two things. They’re either showing love, or they’re crying out for it.”
Get clear which you’re doing, what you need from Olivia, and what she needs from you. Then be there for each other. And love, damn it.
If our kids have taught us anything, it’s that life is too fucking short. Don’t waste another day of it holding on to anger.
Take care,
Brighton
I didn’t even realize the tears were falling until one splashed onto his note and smeared the blue ink. I made my way upstairs because I knew exactly what Liv was doing tonight. She was crying out.
And somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten how to listen.
Chapter Three
Olivia
I NEVER HEARD Ryan enter the bathroom. The glass shower walls were fogged all aroun
d me, and I was sitting on the tiled floor, my head against the wall, as hot water streamed over me, scalding away all the hurt and pain I was releasing. I was clutching my stomach, as I often did, remembering the feel of my babies inside of me. I could no longer tell the difference between my tears and the water streaming over the long tendrils of my hair, now plastered to my face and chest.
“Jesus, Liv.”
Ryan stepped inside the shower in his tuxedo and sat on the floor with me, pulling me into his arms. Then he did what I’d been needing for weeks. He held me. He rocked me while I cried in his arms. He kissed the top of my head. He told me we would be okay.
When he lifted my chin, his eyes stripped me more naked than my body already was. I clutched his white dress shirt in my hands as I searched his familiar brown eyes. What happened to us? Where did we go so horribly wrong?
Torrents of tears freely fell down my cheeks as I whispered the dark words of truth holding my heart hostage. “Ryan, I need to tell you something.”
“Livy,” he said slowly, his voice breaking, “we don’t have to do this right now. I know tonight was hard enough. I’m sorry I was such an ass instead of helping you through it.”
“I have to,” I said, my eyes pleading with his. “It’s breaking me, Ryan. If I don’t, there won’t be anything left of me—of the Olivia you fell in love with.”
He brushed my lips softly, his beard dragging across the delicate skin of my cheek as he pulled me against his body, holding on for dear life. His hand cupped the back of my head as the water streamed hot over us. Ryan’s crisp tuxedo shirt was now soggy beneath my fingertips. I needed to remember every moment, because there would always be a before and after from this devastation. And I wanted to remember the feeling of my husband holding me, loving me still.
