Page 57 of The Most Perfect Wrong

She sighs heavily. “God, this is so embarrassing.” She leans back, folding her arms. “Brad’s always been a little insecure when it comes to me. He’s very much the jealous type.” She pauses, like she’s debating how much to tell me. “He thinks you want to fuck me. That's what we were fighting about at the Christmas party… and again this morning. And ever since then, it feels like we fight about every little thing. It’s been… really shitty.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. I never wanted to be the cause of contention between them, but Brad’s not wrong. He sees it clearly—because it’s true. I do want that. I want her. I want all of her. And maybe that makes me selfish, but I can’t pretend otherwise.

“I keep reassuring him that you’re married, and that you’re not interested.” Her eyes find mine, biting her lip, hesitant. “Even though I know that he’s right,” she whispers.

I smile, laughing softly. “Yeah. I think we’ve established that.” She laughs with me. “Are you happy?” I ask.

She pauses, her eyes going misty before she shakes her head. “No. Not really… I used to be, but I haven’t been for a while now.” She scoffs. “Lately, it seems like the only thing keeping us together is sex. That’s it. And even that’s become toxic most of the time.”

“Why do you stay then?”

She lets out a sharp, hollow laugh. “I ask myself that question all the time.” She shakes her head, taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “I don’t know… Somewhere along the way, I just completely lost myself—my courage, my confidence.” She shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “It’s embarrassing, really. And now… I don’t know how to leave. Or maybe I’ve just convincedmyself I can’t.” Her gaze finally meets mine. “And every time I try, I just end up back where I started.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how to leave? You just pack up your things and go.”

“It’s not that easy, Ryan. I love Brad, or at least I used to. He just… Ugh! He’s good at playing the victim, you know? Sometimes I feel like a puppet, and it drives me crazy, but it’s easier to keep the peace than to disturb it.”

Fuck. Brad sounds like a controlling asshole. Everything she’s saying screams manipulation.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally admit. “But you deserve more than a guy who makes you feel like a puppet, Cooper.”

She shrugs. “Maybe… Maybe not.”

Shit, hearing this pisses me the fuck off. If there’s one thing I know about Cooper, it’s that she’s feisty as hell. I’d never guess she wasn’t the one calling the shots in her relationship, and the fact that she’s not says a lot about Brad. If she were mine, she’d have me wrapped around her tiny little finger. I place my hand on her back. “You ever think about what it’d be like if you left?”

She laugh-cries, wiping at her eyes. “All the fucking time.”

A heavy silence stretches between us. I should probably back off, give her space. But I don’t. “Then leave. Why stay with a guy who doesn’t see you? Who doesn’t deserve you?”

She bites her lip, and for a second, I think she might actually tell me. But then she shakes her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Hey,” I say softly, rubbing her back. She leans forward, cupping her forehead, hiding her eyes. “Hey.” I feel her take a breath, and after a moment, she sits up, dabbing at her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

“Has he ever hurt you?” I have to ask it.

“No. God, no. He would never.” She shakes her head, folding her arms tightly. “I promise. He’s not like that, he’s just… I don’t know. Selfish. And he can be mean—not physically, but with his words, you know?”

She looks away, taking a shaky breath. “I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m one of those women. Stuck in this cycle, making excuses for him, brushing things off. Is he a narcissist? Am I just brainwashed? I don’t know. But I keep letting him pull me back in, and it’s like… God, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

I want more than anything to fix this for her, but the words sit there, lodged in my throat, useless. What the hell am I supposed to say? I’ve heard about situations like this, but I’ve never had someone I care about stuck in one.

She’s strong as hell, though—more than she knows.

She musters a small, shaky smile, her eyes glassy. “But what about you? What are you going to do about Beth?”

I take the shift in conversation as a sign that she’s done talking about it and force myself to follow her lead.

I shrug. “What is there to do? I just have to be patient. Pray for her next follow-up to go well, and try to move on with my life.”

“You really don’t want to work things out? You can’t forgive her?”

“It’s not about forgiveness. Sure, I can forgive her, but I can’t just forget what happened. I thought everything was great, you know? I’d never be able to fully trust her again.” I pick up my glass, swirling the ice inside. “It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” I take a long drink of the cold water. “If you don’t have trust in a relationship, you don’t have anything.”

From the look on her face, you’d think someone just knocked the wind out of her.

---