Page 107 of The Truth About Love

I glare at her and she gives me a smile in return that is nothing but wicked and fake.

“Honey,” her sweet, caramel voice is sharp in my ears. “I was just telling Max and Summer-Raine that they should consider Antigua for their first vacation. You remember how beautiful it was, don’t you?” She doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she turns back to our guests. “We took a catamaran out one evening to watch the sunset. Auden said he’d never seen one like it and it was so romantic that we just couldn’t help but make love underneath it. Sunsets are our thing, you see.”

Summer-Raine whimpers.

It’s so quiet, this musical little squeak that’s hardly audible, but every single person in the room hears it.

“Excuse me.”

Chair legs screech on the oakwood floors as she all but runs from the room.

“Oh, dear,” Cara giggles. “Did I say too much?”

No one answers her.

I’m furious, almost shaking with it. I knew this was why she invited Summer-Raine and her asshole of a date Max. To rub our marriage in her face. To laud the victory over her and make her feel the pain of it.

Cara’s vindictive like that and she’s always hated Summer-Raine.

I take a large swig of my wine before excusing myself too, ignoring the burn of Cara’s glare as I go in the direction of Summer-Raine.

I don’t know what I’ll say when I find her, I haven’t spoken to her all night or even made eye contact, but I know that right now she’s in pain and I’ve never been able to ignore it when she’s hurting.

When she hurts, I hurt.

It doesn’t matter that I’m married to someone else, that’s just the way it is. The way it’s always been and the way it always will be. My signature on the marriage certificate doesn’t stop it being true.

I follow the sound of her footsteps down the hallway, but I still can’t see her. She must have found the bathroom. I resign myself to returning to the dinner party when I notice light shining into the hallway through a door that shouldn’t be open.

That door hasn’t been open in almost a year.

Though my heart aches, I allow my feet to carry me to the threshold of that room. My breathing grows laboured, but I refuse to turn around. I guess now is as good a time as any to finally face the memories that lay inside the room.

“You’re a father.”

For the first time tonight, I look into Summer-Raine’s eyes. Those spheres that are usually so vibrant and colourful are almost completely dull. It’s as if she’s past the point of devastation. Too overwhelmed by the significance of what she’s just discovered to allow herself to really feel the emotions that the discovery brings.

Her hand skates across the side of the bassinette, reaching to softly touch the mobile suspended above it. She accidently knocks the on switch and a quiet lullaby begins to sing around the room.

The twinkling notes bring tears to my eyes.

I watch as she picks up a soft toy, a bunny just like in The Velveteen Rabbit, and brings it to her face, burying her nose in the fur.

“Was.”

“What?” Her vacant eyes meet mine again.

“Iwasa father. My son,” I stop to swallow a sob, “he passed away.”

And just like that, life rushes back into the emerald depths of her irises. Her eyes are no longer glassy and blank, they’re as deep as the ocean with unspoken questions.

“I don’t understand,” she whispers.

She does. She just doesn’t want to. And I get it. I was like that for a long time. Still am, really.

Finally, I step across the threshold into the room, moving to the chest of drawers where picture frames are displayed on top of it. I pick up a photo that was taken not long after my son was born. I’m lying on the sofa with him on my chest. The downiness of his hair brushes against my chin as I smile widely down the camera lens. I can still feel the softness of it and smell the milkiness of his skin even now.

It’s a perfect moment in time frozen in black and white.

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