by E. K. Blair
“How could I leave them for so long?” I ask, looking up at Brooke.
“Every mom needs a break.”
“It wasn’t a break. I left them and sometimes went days without thinking about them,” I tell her sadly. “What kind of mother does that?”
“A mother whose world is falling apart,” she says, reaching her hand down to help pull me up to my feet. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“You’ve been there for them more than I have this past month. I didn’t even know you had been watching them.”
“Landon needed help, Tor,” Chris says from across the room. “On the nights he has to be at the restaurant, I’ve been picking the girls up on my way home from work.”
I turn back to Brooke. “But you just had a baby.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “You guys are a part of our family.”
“But—”
“You’d do the same for me,” she says, and I would. In a heartbeat, I would scoop up her family and take care of them.
I feel extremely disconnected, not realizing that while I’ve been in my own world, living life with Alec, my old world never stopped moving. I left, leaving them to go on without me, leaving them to band together in the wake of my absence. My self-centeredness creating such selflessness in the ones I left behind.
“You staying for dinner?” Chris asks.
“What time is it?”
“A quarter to five.”
“Crap,” I exclaim under my breath. “I have to get going. I have to be somewhere,” I tell Brooke. “I’m sorry to rush out, but there’s something I have to take care.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I go upstairs and give the girls hugs and kisses goodbye before heading back downstairs.
“Tor, you got a minute? There’s something I wanted to show you.”
“Yeah, I have a few minutes. What is it?”
I follow Brooke back to her bedroom. She goes over to her nightstand and picks up the book that lies next to a picture of her and Chris on their wedding day.
“I’ve been reading this and came across a quote,” she says, handing me a copy of Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières. “Open it to the bookmark.”
I crack the spine, allowing the pages to separate from the grocery list she used to mark her spot. With her finger, she points to the passage, saying, “There. Take your time and read that.”
We both sit in the same spot on her bed where we just shared our tears, and I read:
And another thing. Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanos and then it subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being “in love” which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.
Everything silences inside me, and I shut the book. There’s no more good conscience versus bad conscience arguing what’s right or what’s wrong inside of my head. It’s only me and myself.
“Do you believe that’s what love is?”
“I don’t know,” she says softly. “I read it last night and thought . . . maybe this is a sign. Maybe I picked up this book for a reason. Or maybe my mind is slipping from the lack of sleep, but for whatever reason, I knew I needed to share it with you.”
“What about those couples who’ve been married for twenty, thirty, forty years and say they still feel the butterflies?”
“They’re full of shit,” she says with a smirk on her lips and seriousness in her eyes. “Eventually, those butterflies you feel for Alec will fade as well, just like they do for all of us. And that’s where your life together will truly begin.”
I sit at the bar and sip from a martini glass filled with the courage I need to keep myself from running from what I fear will be the truth. I’m not strong enough on my own, and if he walks through the door and I’m without my liquid shield of bravery, I’ll succumb to whatever he tells me. I’ll wash it away and convince myself of whatever I need convincing of just to keep him.
We’re powered by a magnetism that is far beyond the realm of usual.
Taking another sip, I check the time on my phone when my affair phone chimes with a text.
ALEC107: Tied up in a meeting. I’ll meet you at the hotel as soon as I’m done. Miss you.
I don’t bother responding when I turn in my seat and see him slipping his cellphone in his suit jacket. I take a hard swallow as a swell of nerves pulses through my blood. My pulse races while I watch him scan the room, looking for the girl in the photo I sent him. Turning around, I shoot back what’s left of my cocktail, biting against the burn as it flames its way down into the pit of my stomach where my heart now lies.
I don’t want this to be over just yet.
“Another drink, Miss?”
I shake my head and then slip off the barstool onto weak knees. Taking my purse, I turn to spot Alec, and will myself to put one foot in front of the other even though everything is telling me to spare myself of the heartache and run.
Walking toward sinful love as he stands so confidently in his suit, erotically dignified with perfectly placed age lines on his face and hair that boasts flakes of silvery gray. But it’s what lies underneath that has captured my soul and brought me to life in a world that never existed before I met him.
Remember, he’s here to meet another woman.
As I close the distance between us, he turns his head and spots me.
My heart stammers.
His face shifts in an array of emotions before eventually relaxing his eyes.
“I can’t believe you,” I sneer under my breath.
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you think I’m talking about?” I snap. “Why don’t you tell me who you’re here to meet?”
Staring down at me, eyes dripping in the bile of annoyance, he responds, “You.”
“What?”
“Don’t play coy when you’re the one who set this trap up.”
I shake my head.
There’s no way he knew.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why is that not surprising? Your trust in me continues to be an issue.”
His demeanor is ice cold, so cold it sends a shiver up my spine, and I’m about to blow. Turning my back to him before I cause a scene in this place, I rush through the people, bumping elbows as I weave my way out of the busy lounge consumed with the city’s white-collared workers.
As soon as I’m out the door, I feel breathless in my panic, but there’s no respite when a heavy hand grabs me and jerks me around. With Alec in my face, I fume, “You’re a liar. I don’t believe you!”
“Why is it so damn hard for you to see that the only untrustworthy person here is you?”
“Is this a game to you? Because it’s not for me!”
“It was you who created a fake account. It was you who sent me a fake photo. And it was you who invited me here,” he says harshly. “This isn’t my game . . . it’s yours.”
“You’re lying. You’re only twisting this around because you got caught. I didn’t message you; you messaged me, remember? This was all you!”
“You’re right. I did message you. All along, knowing it was you with a barely-there vague account with no photo, just like the one you originally set up. Except this time you marked yourself for what you really are—vanilla.”
Maybe he’s telling the truth.
“Who’s Harrison? Huh? Is he your brother?”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“If I called the office right now, would Harrison Demry still be there? I mean, he’s partner at the firm, surely he work
s long hours, unlike you.”
Grabbing my arms, he shakes me, seething through clenched teeth, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you so self-destructive?”
“Let go of me!”
His fingers bite into my skin, breaking capillaries, bruising me, hurting me.
“Tell me it’s not the truth!”
“I don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” he barks, pushing me out of his hold. “A year I gave you. A year of dealing with your bullshit just to wind up here.”
“Just tell me the truth, Alec.”
“You wouldn’t believe the truth if it were God himself telling it to you.”
“Then make me believe!”
“It’s too late for that. I’m done with your childish games,” he says before walking away from me.
“I gave up everything for you!” I scream with my hands balled into fists, tears springing from my eyes, blood dripping from my heart.
Turning back to me, he says with a frost-bitten tone, “Go home, Victoria.”
“No,” I cry out because I need him. I need him to want me more than I want him. I want him to hold my hand and prove me wrong. I want him to fight to keep me because he loves me like I love him.
But he does none of that.
Stalking his way back to me, he holds out his hand, demanding, “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“The phone you use to talk to me. I want it.”
“No.”
He grabs my purse, yanking it out of my hand.
“Alec, no!” I fight to get it back, wrestling with his hands, but he’s quicker.
Snatching the phone, he shoves the purse against my chest.
“Give it back to me.”
“I don’t think so,” he says before flipping it open and breaking it in half, severing that which connects me to him when I can’t be with him. He holds the two pieces out for me, and when I take them from his hand, his words are definitive. “It’s over. Go back to your husband.”
“Alec, wait! I’m sorry,” I call out as he walks away for what I know is the last time. People stare and whisper as I cry for him to come back, but he never does. He just keeps walking until there’s nothing left but razor-sharp fragments of what used to be my heart.
When I make it back to my car, I’m at my lowest low. No more pride exists for me—I’ve pissed it all away. I toss the chunks of phone Alec left me with and pull out my other cell to call the only person I have left.
“Hello?”
“Brooke,” I wail. “He left me.”
“Who?”
“Alec. It’s over.”
“Where are you?” Her voice is panic-stricken.
“It’s all over. I’ve lost everything, and I don’t know what to do.”
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t even matter anymore.” Tears drip from my chin. “He hates me. They both do.”
“Landon doesn’t hate you.”
“He does.”
“Tori, you need to ask yourself what it is you’re wanting. What the hell are you doing all of this for?”
Taking a deep breath, I begin hiccupping through serrated sobs, doing my best to quiet myself down.
“I’m serious,” she says. “You need to figure this shit out and fast.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“What do you want?”
“I. Don’t. Know!”
“Erase whatever happened tonight. You and Landon divorce and you’re with Alec—what’s the dream? What’s your ultimate-ever-after?”
Wiping my tears, I take in another deep breath.
“Stop thinking too much and just answer it,” she pushes.
“Marriage,” I spit out, completely unfiltered. “I want to be married. I want to have a family. I want to be loved and cherished and taken care of. I want a home that feels like a home. I want a man who’ll hold my hand when I stumble, a man who’ll fight for me, and man who has enough love for me that he won’t ever give up on me.” The words spill out in a heap of sadness. “I just want to be happy.”
“Then go to your fucking husband, Tor! Stop this mess and go to him because he gave you all of that. And before you got so damn blinded by Alec, you were happy!”
“But it’s over with Landon.”
“You’re still his wife.”
“He doesn’t love me anymore.”
“He does,” she states firmly. “He’s been fighting for you for a year. That man loves you, Tori. But if you go to him, you better be willing to do everything in the world to save your marriage and to find your way back to loving him, because I know that love for him is still inside of you.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Listen to that stupid heart of yours.”
I hang up, and I don’t know if it’s my heart guiding me or fear, but I wipe my face and drive.
Brooke’s words echo in my mind. What if she’s right? What if everything I’ve been searching for was everything I already had. Did I let the spark of Alec dim what was right all along?
I told Landon that it was impossible for one person to be another’s everything, but if it’s one person that I ultimately want, I’m going to have to make that sacrifice. If it’s too late with Landon, I’m going to eventually want to remarry, even though I know I’ll always be left with empty pieces. And if that’s been the main issue plaguing me with Landon, it’s not a reason to let our marriage fail, because with him or without, in the end, no one will ever be enough to complete me.
But the real question is: Do I love him? And if not, is it possible to fall back in love after love has already died?
Regardless, the safety net is no longer there. Alec is gone, and if I don’t have Landon, then I have nothing. The fear of being alone in this word is too much for me to bear. I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. So I’ll fight for Landon and hope with everything I’ve got in me that we can find our way back, that we can save this marriage and move forward. I don’t know if we even have a chance, but two things I do know are that I’m not entirely ready to throw away thirteen years of a life I’ve created with Landon and I’m not ready to walk away from my girls.
I pull up to Chin-Chin, the valet opens my door, and I keep my head down, hiding my blotchy face. I walk in, and the place is packed. I didn’t think it would be this busy on a Monday night, and I immediately feel stupid for coming here. There’s no way he’ll be able to talk to me—the kitchen has to be crazy with this many people.
“Tori! Hey!”
I turn around to see Chelsea, one of the bartenders.
“Are you here to see Landon?”
“Yeah, but—”
“I can go get him.”
“No,” I say, stopping her when she starts to walk off. “It’s fine. I didn’t realize it would be so busy.”
“Ever since that four-star Times review, it’s been a packed house every night.”
How did I forget that?
“Right. Well, I better get going.”
“It was good seeing you,” she says before sauntering off with her blonde locks flowing behind her.
I decide to wait for Landon at the house since I won’t be able to sleep if I go back to the hotel. There really isn’t a point to the hotel anymore. It was just a façade so that I could be with Alec.
Alec.
The thought of him tightens my chest. I’m going to have to find a way to deal with this pain because there is no doubt he’s done with me. His words left no room for misinterpretation. But in this moment, I can’t deal with the pain. I’m in shock right now and my world is spinning faster than what I can keep up with.
Walking through the door and into the living room, it feels like it been years rather than weeks since I’ve been here.
It still smells the same.
With backpacks hanging in the mudroom and artwork on the fridge, I’m reminded that this house holds more good memories than bad. It was easy to paint this world in dull colors when
Alec shone so brightly. It was the thought that because everything was so great with Alec, then everything must have been not so great with Landon.
Did I convince myself of that or was it actually that way?
When I enter the bedroom, I recall all the nasty fights we had in here this past year—all stemming from Alec. We never fought like that until I allowed myself to fall for another man.
I shake the thoughts from my head because I’m not willing to deal with them right now.
I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine.
It’s unsettling to feel like a stranger in your own home.
I take a few big gulps before topping off the glass. It’s quiet and dark, much like my heart at the moment. This day was a total shit storm, and I’m in dire need of comfort, but I no longer know where comfort resides. This last year it’s been Alec that I could count on finding solace.
I shake him away again.
Taking my wine into the bedroom, I pass the time by taking a long hot shower. And then settle into bed with mindless reality television playing in the background. With the stress of the day, it doesn’t take me long to doze off.
The sound of the garage door closing awakens me. I sit up in bed nervously and look at the clock that reads three in the morning.
Where has he been?
When I see his shadow stumbling into the bedroom, I flick on the lamp.
“What are you doing here?” he slurs with his hand bracing him upright against the doorjamb.
He’s completely wasted.
“Did you drive home like this?”
“I took a cab.”
He pushes himself off the side of the door and barely makes it to the bed before falling face-first onto the mattress.
“Are you really here or am I seeing things?” he mumbles with his face buried in the sheets.
I place my hand on his back and immediate recoil when he flinches against my touch.
“I’m really here.”
“Mmmm,” he groans, and I know there’s no chance he’ll remember anything I say by the time he wakes up in the morning, so I give up on the idea of talking to him until he’s sober.
Crawling to the end of the bed, I take off his shoes and decide to just let him sleep in his clothes. When I turn off the lamp, he rolls onto his side, giving me his back.
