Page 208 of Lost in Love

And then, after a few drinks from the whiskey I left in the cupboard, I need some answers.

Leaning against the counter in the kitchen now, I sigh, again. “No more bullshit. Be completely honest with me. Youwouldn’thave told me, would you?”

Standing five feet from me near the kitchen island, Madison draws in another deep breath and turns her head to look at me. “I think I would have eventually told you because there’s no way I could have lived with that hanging over my head.”

As shocked as I am, I know she’s not lying to me. The Madison I know, the one I fell in love with, she couldn’t live with a lie. It’s probably half the reason she filed in the first place. Despite wanting my attention, she couldn’t live with feeling like we weren’t giving our relationship everything it deserved.

“I wanted to tell you.” Her voice is timid, seeming far away and lonely much like she’s felt over the years. I can’t believe I let it get that bad. “So many times I wanted to, but I couldn’t say it to you. And then I found out I was pregnant and I didn’t know what to do.” Her hand is on her chest now, staring at me with regret.

Sighing, I nod, accepting her truth.

She’s staring at me, wide-eyed and confused, giving way to guilt and sorrow for the damage we’ve done. “I understand if you can’t forgive me.” Her sadness moves through her, shaking her body. “Just know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Part of me thought I should have picked up on this after the first couple days, shouldn’t I have?

“I can’t even tell you how hard it was to see you doing so much and not acknowledging it. Especially you waxing your balls to prove it.”

I smile, sensing a small victory. Finally, she acknowledged my efforts. Still, why’d she drag me along? Why was nothing I did ever good enough in those two months?

“So you did it to get my attention, but how come nothing I did was good enough? I kept making the effort and you constantly blew me off. If you really wanted to make things work, how come you weren’t trying?”

Tears slowly found their way down her cheeks. “I don’t know why. I guess I thought if I acknowledged anything you were doing, things would go back to normal in a week or so and nothing would have changed.” She breaths in, slow and deep, as if she’s calming herself down. “I love you, Ridley. I know I said I didn’t, but I do. I also can’t tell you how it felt to have you look at me the way you did in Sedona”—her chin shakes again—“and now, so full of hate and resentment for me.”

“I don’t hate you, Mad. I never could, but why was lying to me about it was easier?”

Women?

Men are inherently ignorant. If you don’t tell us, we don’t know. Plain and simple.

“You think it was easy to lie to you?” Her gaze falters, and I see it. There’s no way it waseasyon her. “You don’t think it would have been worse if I had told you right away, that I just did it to get your attention? After a while, I didn’t knowhowto tell you. You were finally making an effort to be a part of our lives, and I didn’t want you to think it was for nothing.” She stares at me, and the honesty in her face knocks me sideways. There’s no more apologizing or begging. There’s only this. Her regrets and my lack of attention to what really mattered. “That night in the car when we were lost….” Her voice trails off, but of course, I remember what she’s talking about. The sex in the back of my truck. “I had every intention of telling you what I’d done, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I thought once we got to the resort, we could talk about it. But I was scared of what you’d say.”

She’s looking at me again. I can’t deal with the vulnerable side of her; it makes me feel vulnerable, too, so I drop my eyes to the floor.

“Tell me what you want, Ridley. Do you want a divorce?” she asks, stepping forward to close the space between us. Reaching out, her fingers lightly touch my hand. Bending down, I lower my lips to her forehead, pressing lightly, warm and soft. Her reaction is anything but gentle.

And then neither is mine. I inhale loudly, my breath in my lungs exhaling just as harshly. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. Itneverwill.”

She draws back and stares at me with pleading eyes, her breathing heavy. “Does that mean… you still want me?”

I hate the way the words send a sharp pain to my chest. Like there was ever a question if I wanted her. There wasn’t. But I still don’t know how to process all this.

I sigh. “I think I need some time to think about all this and process everything.”

She steps back so she can see my face clearly, her hand gently running over my jaw. “Ridley, I—”

“I want to be with you,” I interrupt her. “Always. I just wantyou. Now. A week from now. A year from now. Whenever you’re ready. What I want is never going to change. It’s you. Just you. Always has been. Always will be.” Callan’s face flashes in my mind, my eyes stinging with tears. “The worst part was leaving that day and the look on Callan’s face… the realization I had failed my family in making it work. And then I went to see my dad, for God knows what reason. Brantley and him tried to get me to go out to a strip club and Icouldn’tdo it. Icouldn’teven think of looking at another woman. So I sat on FaceTime with you and boys, hating that I was going to be a weekend dad.” She’s crying again, slow steady tears that feel like drops of acid hitting my heart. “I can admit, the papers woke me up, but then when you didn’t give me any effort back, I gave up.” I swallow, heavily, and then shake my head. “I just… need some time to process this.”

She turns her back on me, and it isn’t out of hate or regret or whatever other reasons she might have resorted to lying to me. She’s trying to give me some space, I suppose.

But I also know if she walks out that door tonight, we’ll only be hurting ourselves.

I know what my heart wants. I also know Madison is worth it. I’ve always known that. I knew it before she did. Real love is taking two hearts, two bodies, two souls and creating one that can laugh and have fun together despite what’s going on around us. If these last two months taught me anything, it was that we could still laugh together despite us trying to one over the other. I guess my dad was right. That’s when you know it’s pure and worth fighting for.

This is what matters. The experience. The forgiveness and how it makes you feel.

My eyes drift to hers and a familiar ache weaves around my heart, threatening to suffocate my words.

“I want you to stay. That’s what I want you to do, but right now, I can’t make this decision. I need to think.”

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