Embrace

by S. Layne

  I’ve tried to do that, and while I’m thankful to finally be able to spill everything over the last few months into someone’s lap without judgments, I still can’t believe the things I’ve admitted to.

  My marriage is falling apart, if it’s not shattered completely.

  I had begun falling for a man who can give me nothing in return.

  And on the other side of the dark oak wood door that leads to her small but relaxing waiting room, is my husband, who wants one more chance.

  He doesn’t even know I’m here. Although for weeks he’s told me that he wants me to join him at the appointments he scheduled for us.

  I didn’t know if I’d stay, either, but Elissa—which she prefers to Dr. Dillon—has given me a lot to consider. I figure the least I can do is ensure I end my marriage with no questions hanging over either James or myself.

  We deserve at least that much.

  “Yes,” I finally say, and pick a piece of invisible lint off my jeans. I had no idea what to wear to my first therapy appointment, but I settled on a pair of faded blue skinny jeans that end just above my ankle and a flowy white tank top. I wanted to be relaxed yet look seemingly put together.

  Now that I know James is here, I wish I would have taken more time with my appearance. Suddenly my tank top feels too thin, and with my hair up and off my neck in a simple ponytail, I feel too exposed. My red heels that I always wear when I need to feel strong and confident are not doing their job today.

  Elissa quirks a blond eyebrow and smiles. “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay then.” She elegantly eases herself off of her chair, uncrossing her long legs as she moves, and I watch as she walks to her door, a small spark of something…jealousy, maybe…lighting in my belly.

  James sees this beautiful woman every week.

  “James?” she asks when she opens the door. “Are you ready?”

  As soon as I hear his deep, masculine voice respond—even though I can’t fully make out the words—nerves assault my blood, making me hot.

  My pulse beats in my ears, and when Elissa opens the door to allow him to walk through, my heart jumps to my throat.

  I stand, brushing my hands down my thighs in an effort to wipe off my sweaty palms, when James enters the room.

  He shakes Elissa’s hand, and when they let go she waves her arm toward the couch I’ve been sitting on for almost an hour.

  “Thank you, Elissa,” he says and walks past her.

  His head snaps back in surprise when he sees me standing in the room. I nervously brush an imaginary strand of hair behind my ear, and wipe my jeans.

  I must look like a fool.

  “Hi,” I say weakly and lift my hand in a lame way. It falls to my side.

  “Laurie.” My name is a whisper of shock from his parted lips. James brushes his hand through his hair, turns back to Elissa, and then faces me. We both stare at each other awkwardly. Me uncomfortable, and James…I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  He’s still just inside the doorway, allowing barely enough room for Elissa to close the door behind him, but when it clicks shut, it seems to snap him out of our frozen moment.

  He shakes his head and walks toward me. Three long strides and he’s standing in front of me. His black hair is longer than it used to be, indicating he hasn’t had a haircut since he left our house. But it’s his eyes that pull me in, like always. Dark chocolate pools flash in hope.

  I look away before I can disappoint him.

  “You’re finally here,” he says, standing in front of me.

  I know how disappointed he was when I didn’t come to the first several appointments.

  “Yeah.” I look at Elissa and notice her quietly watching our conversation from the doorway. I chew on the inside of my cheek—one of my few nervous tells that drives my mom crazy. “I wanted to talk to Elissa about some…stuff.”

  God, I’m fumbling this horribly.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever been so nervous in front of James—except for maybe the first time I saw him in the hallway of our high school. My heart stopped beating as I watched him walk down the hallway with a group of guys, completely oblivious to the fact that I took one look at him and quietly handed him my heart.

  I knew I’d love him forever since before we ever spoke, and the memory slams into my chest, snapping me back to the present.

  James leans forward, reaches out, and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He drops my hand and gestures for me to take a seat.

  I do, brushing my hands over my jeans and through my hair and Jiminy-Cricket, I’m a complete mess.

  Clearing my throat, I look toward Elissa to see a soft hint of a smile on her glossy, light pink lips.

  “Should we get started?” I cringe. The words falling from my lips are scratchy, and I immediately reach for my water.

  All the comfort I previously felt in this room alone with Elissa has evaporated and I’m suddenly hot and uncomfortable. My tank top feels like it’s clinging to sweat beads on my back and no matter how I shift, I can’t settle.

  “Laurie,” James says.

  I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to calm down before I look at him.

  His understanding eyes make me want to cry. “It’s okay,” he says. His hand reaches out to take mine but at the last second he pulls back and places it in his lap. “You don’t need to be nervous with me.”

  But I do. Because I have no idea what he’s talked about with Elissa. If he’s noticed how completely beautiful and sweet she is, if he’s hit on her…

  The thought erases my nerves and reminds me exactly why I didn’t want to come in the first place.

  I don’t trust him anymore. I don’t trust anyone—not even myself and my own judgments.

  I look at Elissa and nod my head, my professional mask of indifference firmly in place. “We can start now.”

  She notices the change in my demeanor, in my slightly straightened back and hands settled firmly in my lap, and purses her lips.

  Now that James is here and we have to talk about our issues…I’m angry all over again.

  She tilts her chin in my direction before she focuses on James.

  With her hands in her lap, mirroring mine, she crosses one leg over her other knee, and I don’t care that she’s dressed in skin-covering black dress pants, I still glance over to see if James has watched her.

  His eyes are on her face, though, and I look away before either of them notice me.

  “James,” she says softly, calmly. “Since you’ve already met with me a few times, but this is Laurie’s first time joining us, why don’t we go back to the beginning a little bit, if it’s okay with you, and you tell me why you’re here.”

  Her voice is hypnotic—eerily calm, as if one us might freak out.

  She might be right. I’m two seconds from jumping up and fleeing.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice James’s hands scrub down his thighs. He’s nervous, too, and that almost helps me relax.

  “I came for help because I wanted to talk to someone about my marriage. About the mistakes and choices I made that hurt my wife, and what I can do to help fix it.”

  And God, so much like James, to just blatantly throw out a problem, expecting a solution.

  I suppose that’s what has made him such a good lawyer over the years.

  As a husband, however, there are some problems that simply can’t be solved by a spreadsheet or outline.

  “And what are those mistakes, James?”

  My breathing freezes as I wait for his answer. One second passes, and then two. Maybe a million of them pass as a thick silence hovers in the air, and I finally turn my head to James.

  I expect him to say that he had an affair. I expect him to say that he slept with my best friend, and I bite my tongue, trying to not formulate the lashing I want to give him for it.

  But then he opens his mouth and rocks my entire world.

  James loo
ks directly into my eyes, shifts on the couch so he’s facing me more than he’s facing Elissa, and he says, “My biggest mistake, I think, is that I stopped showing Laurie how much I love her. I began taking her for granted, expecting her to take care of everything for me so I could focus on work, and when other things around the house stopped getting done, I became frustrated with her.”

  My breath thickens in my throat and I blink. Because that isn’t his biggest mistake, and if that’s what he thinks, then we have nothing to say to one another.

  I start to say something, but he continues speaking.

  “My second mistake…is that I stopped being her best friend. I stopped having fun with Laurie, and I stopped being excited for her when she accomplished new and amazing things at her job. I took that for granted—that we’d always be together—and I stopped paying attention.”

  My eyes fill with tears, but I can’t move. “James,” I say, voice gravelly.

  He blinks and sniffs. Then he shakes his head and glances at Elissa. She gently tilts her head in his direction, and he inhales a deep breath.

  “The mistake that carries the most regret, though, above all the other colossal ones I have made, was one night when I was tempted. As a man…and as a husband…I failed my wife.”

  He reaches out and takes my hand in his. I’m too stunned, too overwhelmed to pull it away like I should.

  “I love you, Laurie, and I always have. And I’m so damn sorry I didn’t think of Becky as a threat. I brushed off her flirtations at work, or her inappropriate comments, because I just figured we were all friends, and I didn’t see it until it was too late. I didn’t realize she’d been plotting, making small digs at you when she knew we were upset with one another or not getting along. She used your friendship and your conversations to get closer to me, and I never saw it coming until it was too late.”

  God, I hate her. I hadn’t even considered she could be that conniving, and all this information is so new, my head is spinning.

  She flirted with him? Made comments? And he never told me?

  I jerk my hand back and snap my head toward Elissa. “I can’t do this.”

  “I agree,” she says, nodding. “Maybe we should take a step back a little bit.”

  “I don’t want to,” James says, his voice firm but still sad. “I need Laurie to know everything.”

  He almost sounds frantic, like there’s some huge hurry. I suppose there is, because he and I both know our divorce could be final in just a few weeks.

  “I’m sorry,” I say and jump to my feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking…coming here. But I can’t.” I shake my head and wipe tears off my cheeks. I turn to reach for my purse when James stands. I lift a hand. “Stop. You have to let me process all this.”

  “That’s why we’re here.” His hands clench into fists, and I know he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing me—maybe forcing me to sit and listen. But the walls feel like they’re closing in on me and I need air.

  “Laurie,” Elissa says with that same calming voice that now grates on my skin. “Why don’t you sit? We can take a moment and regroup.”

  I shake my head. This is just too much. I can see James’s pain and regret lacing the features of his face and his chest heaving as he prevents himself from taking hold of me, forcing me to listen.

  But he’s taking all the blame here, at least I know he’s trying to.

  But I have to be at fault in some way too, otherwise…he never would have been tempted.

  It can’t be all on him, and I’m not yet ready to examine where I failed as well.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my words choking over a sob.

  And then I fling myself past James, reach for the door as both he and Elissa call my name, and I rush down the stairs of the office building, feeling more insane than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  Tears fall down my cheeks and my vision is blurry as I hit the street and immediately gasp for air.

  I can’t go anywhere like this, my hands trembling so badly and blood pounding through my ears until it drums in my ears so I can’t see or hear straight.

  I collapse against the wall of the building, not giving a care at all to who might see me, completely breaking down outside a therapist’s office in the early evening.

  “Laurie,” James suddenly says, and I push myself off the building. “Please, just let me say one more thing.”

  He raises his hands toward me, palms out, as if he’s facing a skittish kitten—or a cougar who might attack him.

  Either way leaves me feeling like a fool all over again and I take a step back, watching him take a few slow and cautious steps toward me.

  “I’ve heard enough.”

  He takes another step. “Please.”

  And all of it—all of my emotions, all of my control—it all just…snaps, and I whip my head toward James, facing him dead-on, and shout, “I don’t know what you want from me! Damn it, James. You can’t say all that shit inside there and expect everything to be different!” I hiss in a breath, realize my hands are flailing wildly in the air, and I flap them to my sides.

  “I don’t,” he states, so calmly. So sincerely.

  And it only pisses me off more.

  “You just admitted you took me for granted, stopped loving me, stopped being my friend, and the entire time…I was sitting back at home thinking everything was just hunky-dory perfect. How am I not supposed to be feeling like the biggest moron right now for not even realizing this? Don’t you get it? There were problems, and I didn’t see them, all because I was so damn in love with you that I probably would have let you treat me however you wanted for the rest of my life and just…tolerated it. God!” My hands fly to my hair, down my ponytail. I let loose a growl of frustration and tug on my own hair. “Why would you even want to be married to such an idiot?”

  “You’re not—”

  “Just stop it!” I shout. “I need to leave.”

  In a huff, because I’m feeling completely neurotic and insane, I spin on my heels, intent on getting away from him. It’s too much. I need space and time to think. I take one step, and before I know what’s happening, one of the heels of my favorite armor-inducing and strength-giving shoes completely fails me.

  The heel gets stuck in the crack of the cement and I twist myself, trying to regain my footing, but instead my ankle twists and I cry out from the shock and the sudden pain right before I crash to the cement.

  I throw my hands out to catch myself and cement digs into my skin.

  “Ow,” I groan, and tears pour down my cheeks.

  I’m given no time to stand up before James is in front of me.

  “Holy shit, are you okay?”

  “No.” I shake my head and move my ankle. A searing pain drives up my ankle to my lower leg. “My ankle.”

  I don’t even realize James is touching me until his hands are on my ankle and my shoe is in front of me.

  “I think you sprained it.”

  I gasp in pain when he twists it slightly.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, suddenly feeling his warm skin wrapped so gently around mine.

  It’s enough to have another sob ripped from my throat. “Just go,” I whisper. I’ve completely lost my mind and I can’t take his kindness.

  “It’s your right ankle, Laurie. You can’t drive.” His eyes meet mine, full of concern. “We should probably get you to the doctor, just to make sure.”

  I move my ankle, determined to leave on my own, but another pain shoots down to my toes and I give in.

  “I’ll be fine.” I stare at the scraped skin on my palms. They’re scratched and covered with jagged little tears, with specks of blood peeking through.

  “I know,” he finally says, something else brightening his dark eyes. He lifts from his squat and his hands go to my waist.

  Before I can blink, I’m cradled in his arms and my purse is on my stomach.

  “Put me down.”

  “I
will when we get to the car.” He gives me a look, one that I know makes his opponents in the courtroom cower in fear.

  I stare back, still angry, and yet really hurting in more places than just my heart.

  “I’m taking you to the doctor and you’re not going to get rid of me until I know you’re okay.”

  “I’ll call Talia,” I tell him, arguing feebly.

  James is determined, always.

  He spears me with another look, one that has me clamping my mouth shut, and then I moan as my ankle bounces and throbs with pain.

  It really hurts. And he’s probably right—I should be seen to make sure it’s not broken. And if I call Talia, it will take at least twenty minutes for her to get to me and that’s only if she’s sitting around waiting for a phone call, which I highly doubt.

  “Fine,” I huff, giving in. The short walk to his car is already making my ankle hurt more, and by the time we reach it and he sets me in the passenger seat, I can see a small amount of blood leaking through my jeans. My ankle is killing me and already beginning to swell, and my palms sting from their scrapes.

  “I told you it was just sprained,” I say. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of James’s car again as he pulls into my driveway. On my ankle is a plastic air splint that I have to wear for the next week. My other foot is bare, and because the fall broke the heel on my shoe, I’ve tossed my favorite pair of heels I’ve ever owned into the trash. My jeans were so tight on my skin, they had to cut them off right below the knee.

  I look like a hobo.

  Just one more damn thing in my life to go wrong at the exact wrong time.

  And…I might be a little emotional and dramatic over a pair of shoes.

  We’ve just spent two hours at the emergency room, and not only am I exhausted, I’m embarrassed and hungry.

  I’m also more confused than ever, because as much as I want to be upset with James, he has taken care of me every single second for the last one hundred and twenty minutes and hasn’t left my side.

  I quit asking him to when he made it clear he was going to X-ray with me.

  But now that he’s pulling back up to our own house—a house he hasn’t been in for a month—I’m nervous all over again.