Page 3 of In the Lonely Hour

“We agreed that I’d let you be with other women as long as you came home, Carlos,” she reminded, voice shaking. “That was the whole point of us separating and not divorcing.”

“Well I want the divorce now,” he replied quickly, finally giving her his full attention. “Jasmine is tired of me being tied to you still. She deserves better than feeling like she’s my mistress. I can’t even take her out in public, in Memphis, because I don’t want someone we know to see us and think I’m cheating on you.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not. Legally, I’m not. Now if you’ve held on to hopes of our marriage getting better, that’s on you, but it’s not and you need to accept that. Now I said I would stay here until Dior was out of school, but if you want that to be the case, I need space. I’ll be here when she gets out of school, but I’m spending my nights with Jasmine. Dior won’t even know I’m not here.”

Mouth pinched, Layla’s shoulders slumped. She looked past Carlos instead of directly at him as she ran her tongue over her teeth, unable to stand the sight of him after what he’d just said.

“So it’s not her that you’re trying to get away from,” Layla clarified. “It’s me.”

His stance softened and so did his eyes. Carlos tried to take her hands into his, but Layla took a step back.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Layla. Can we please not talk about this?”

Licking her lips as her chin trembled, Layla shook her head weakly. “No,” she rejected, pushing her shoulders back and tilting her head. “I need to hear you say it all.” Because that would be the only way she would be able to release him from her heart. If divorce was inevitable, his truth would make it easier for her to let him go. Hell, up until now, she’d been sure she’d never willingly leave him. No matter how much their marriage strained, Layla was invested.

“Layla…”

“Say it,” she gritted softly.

“Fine.” Carlos crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “I love you, but I’m not in love with you anymore. We’ve grown apart and become two different people that don’t fit anymore. When we first got married, we were perfect for each other. I thought we’d spend our lives making money and living it up. Then you got pregnant, and shit changed. You got boring and all you cared about was Dior. Our dates and fun stopped, and I work too hard to not be with a partner that I can actually enjoy life with. You know I never wanted a child or that responsibility, but I tried to stay because I loved you. Even with that, you stopped meeting me halfway.

“We couldn’t even make the most of holidays and anniversaries because you didn’t want anyone keeping Dior for more than an hour, if that. I don’t feel like you’re mywife anymore; I feel like you’re my child’s keeper—a child I didn’t even want. I’ve been lonely for years, and fucking different women only satisfied so much. In Jasmine, I found the companionship I used to have in you. So if she wants me to make her a bigger priority in my life, I’m going to do that, because she does that for me.”

Running her tongue across her teeth, Layla stared into his eyes until tears fell from hers. Hanging her head, she wiped them away quickly. Surrendering to the inevitable, Layla nodded and took a step back.

“Okay,” she agreed quietly. As she turned to leave, the sound of Carlos calling her name stopped her.

“I’m willing to keep the separation in place if you agree to me being with Jasmine fully. As I promised, I’ll still be present for Dior, but Jasmine will be who I live with. If you’re okay with that, we can keep our agreement.”

Her head shook softly. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re bound to me when you don’t want to be.”

Gripping her chest, she prayed that would keep her heart from exploding. Yeah, she knew things were bad, but she didn’t realize that was how Carlos felt. All this time, she’d only been focused on how absent he had been. It wasn’t until now that she realized the part she played in this. How she’d practically stopped being a wife to be the best mother she could possibly be. Carlos had never expressed disdain for their lack of quality time, so she thought he didn’t care. Now, all she could do was wonder if her actions were the ones that led them to this moment instead of his.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked turning to face him. “If you felt like I was neglecting you, why didn’t you say something? You let all this time pass just so you could fall out of love with me and feel better about being with someone else?”

“That wasn’t my intention, Layla. I didn’t feel like I had the right to demand your time. You were 100 percent hands on with Dior and I felt like I wasn’t really equipped to be there for her while she was a baby or a toddler for that matter. When she was able to communicate what she wanted and needed, I told myself then I’d be able to be a good father.”

“But she couldn’t,” Layla added before choking on tears.

Carlos quickly walked over and tried to take her into his arms, but she pushed him away. She had no need for his comfort while he tore her heart apart.

“Yes. When we found out that she… you know… and couldn’t communicate and socialize properly… I shut down. I felt like, damn. I already didn’t want this because I wasn’t sure I’d be a good father, now this. I know I should have left then, but I didn’t want to feel like a failure. She started doing well with you and I felt like neither of you needed me anymore, so that’s when I started cheating. But I just can’t do this anymore, Layla. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. No. I get it.” She smiled softly, wiping the last of her tears. “It’s totally understandable. Do what’s best for you. I got us.”

Opening the door quickly and forcefully, Layla scurried down the hall, slamming the door behind her in the guest bathroom. She cut the fan on, not wanting Dior to hear her cries. On weak and trembling legs, she slid down the door and sobbed. Her body shook savagely as she struggled to breathe. Already overwhelmed, the last thing her heart could handle was her husband’s rejection. But it had no choice. If Carlos wanted to leave, she’d take this loss with grace—especially now that she was forced to accept the part she played in their relationship’s demise.

Layla was so deep in her thoughts she didn’t realize her ice cream cone was melting down her hand until she felt it being licked. Looking down, the sight of the Husky licking her hand and ice cream caught her so off guard she yelped and jumped on top of the bench before toppling over it and falling onto her back. Groaning, she jumped again when the dog followed behind her, hopping over the bench. She cowered in a fetal position but relaxed the moment the dog began to sniff her and whine.

“Tiny!” a man yelled.

Still whining, the dog began to lick her. Layla’s rattled nerves began to calm when she realized he was a friendly dog. Sitting up, she chuckled and began to pat his head as her back throbbed.

“Tin—what the he—I’m so sorry.” Quickly, large hands wrapped around the dog’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated,wrapping the dog’s leash around the small leg of the bench. “I put his leash under my foot to put my phone and wallet up to grab his ice cream and he got away from me.”

His hand extended in her direction, and Layla put hers inside so he could help her stand.

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