Page 95 of I'm Not Yours
“For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health . . .”
“Listen to those vows. You took them, June. For better or worse, in sickness and in health.”
“It was always ‘worse,’ Grayson, and you make me sick. Sick in the heart.”
“. . . to love and to hold, from this day until eternity . . .”
“You still care for me,” he insisted, so arrogant. So delusional.
Well, that did it.I still cared for him?I wanted him to fly off the planet. I saw red. Grayson was red. All around him, red.
“Until death do us part. . . .”
I didn’t even think about it. I wanted him gone. Gone for good. I could not have him in my life for another second. I stepped closer. I hooked my fun red heel around his ankleand pushed. He stumbled. I helped him fall backward when I slammed my fist into his face, and he flipped straight back, off the four-foot-tall stage, through the MacKenzie tartan. He landed on his back, apoofescaping his lips, the tartan covering his pinched face.
I whipped back around as if nothing had happened.
“I now pronounce, all of you,” the minister said, delight and triumph running through his voice, “man and wife!”
When I could breathe I turned my gaze to Reece’s, with the greatest fear I believe I have ever felt in my entire life. I couldn’t find him, I couldn’t see him. Without causing any more of a scene I searched the yard, and there he was, beside Grayson, picking him up by the shoulders and yanking him away, as if Grayson was a limp coyote.
Reece was livid.
“I can’t be with you anymore.”
“June, honey—”
“Reece, I can’t.” We were at the river, away from August and Ben’s rollicking reception, in full swing after a bagpipe concert. Grayson had left. Ben’s family had done well at the watermelon seed spitting contest. His brother won. They were going to have another scavenger hunt, his mother wanted a crystal wand. Ben’s sister was interested in Carrie’s Ouija board. KC and the Sunshine Band’s song, “Get Down Tonight,” had been a huge boogie hit.
Next to me, so close, both of us on the grass beside the river, Reece said, his voice raw and frustrated, “You can’t be serious, June.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t see this ending.” I fought back hysteria that threatened to take over any rational part of my brain that was still left. “Grayson is not going to let go. I may have another year of this.”
“Listen, June, I have money. I’ll pay him off—”
“I would never accept that money.” I started making a hiccupping sound as I tried to breathe.
“You wouldn’tacceptit?” He threw his hands in the air, his temper flaring. “I’m offering to go to him and give him a pile of money so he signs the damn divorce papers giving you full rights to June’s Lace and Flounces, andyou won’t accept it?”
“No, Reece, I can’t take money from you. I won’t.” I was still reeling from the scene with Grayson. He was stalking me, he would always stalk me. I felt a sense of desolation and despair fill my entire being. “And I won’t allow you to pay him off, I can’t live with that, I can’t sleep with that. No.”
“We could be together. It’s only money to me, June, only money. And I wantus.I want us and the beach walks, the butterfly shells, the sunsets. I want to hold you. I want to plan a future.”
“I am not dealing with a normal person. Grayson has money, too. The money he makes as a partner in his firm, inherited money. His possessions, his things, his stuff, that’s what he values. I’m a thing to him. A thing who he thinks is going to make more money for him.”
“I know he doesn’t want to let you go, June. I saw that. He’s a dangerous, selfish man, but we can get this taken care of, we can.”
“But when? It’s been going on so long.” It was sick. He was sick. Grayson made me feel trapped and suffocated. I had a right to my life, but he hung on like handcuffs.
“June, you and I can go on together. I’m tired of waiting. You’re tired of waiting. You’re divorced in every way possible except the final papers. I know how you feel about it, I know it feels dishonest to you, unethical, it doesn’t feel right to me, either, but I don’t see us puttingusoff anymore—”
“It’s more than that, Reece.” I thought my insides were going to chew me up and spit me out, I hurt so bad. I didn’t want to say what I knew I had to say.
“What is it, then?” His eyes were worried, but he was angry, too.
“I’m not—” I felt faint. It would about kill me to say it, but I knew I was right. “Reece.”
Our eyes locked, mine desperate, his dawning with devastating recognition.
