Page 23 of Axe Backwards
“She’s marrying my ex-husband, and the thought of going to the wedding makes me want to vomit. On top of that,she’s pregnant. After experiencing infertility and divorce and a thousand other terrible scenarios, I don’t know if I can do it.”
He turned his hat around, as if putting it on the right way would help him think, and steepled his fingers.
Shit, he was gorgeous.
“Hold on.” He sat up straight. “Your ex-husband is marrying your baby sister? Isn’t she a lot younger than you are?”
I nodded. “Nine years. Six years younger than Elizabeth. She was an oopsie baby.”
“So she’s…” He raised his eyebrows, probably doing the math in his head.
“Twenty-six.” I winced.
He shook his head. “You said he cheated…”
“Not with Alex,” I corrected, understanding where his train of thought was headed. “She was living in Chicago when that happened. She moved back to Boston last year, and since Graham socializes with my parents at the country club, he and Alexandra got to know one another.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. He preferred Tinder and one-time hookups with twenty-somethings. Nothing long term.”
His jaw went rigid. “Oh fuck.”
My eyes stung again. Dammit. I put my head in my hands, too tired to fight the pain. The first clue I had was when a friend from work told me she’d seen a Tinder profile she swore was his. Then I found the photos and texts on his phone.
Red-hot shame flooded my veins like it did every time I remembered those days.
“Sorry.” I sniffled. “It’s been two years since I found out, and I’m still so ashamed.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice soft. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But maybe I did.”
He grabbed my hands and squeezed, staring deep into my eyes. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”
I blinked, my eyes filling with tears again.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“But.” The tears were falling now, rolling straight down my cheeks. God, this was so embarrassing.
“Stop that.” The sharpness of his tone startled me. “He treated you like garbage. That is not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
I blinked at him, sniffling. If only it were that easy. That simple.
“Say it.”
Before I knew what was happening, he was standing and pulling me to my feet. He scooped up Tess and situated her on his hip.
“I’m serious. The way we speak to ourselves matters. If you’re walking around thinking you deserved to be treated so badly or that you caused it in some way, then I’ll make it my mission to correct you. Because you’re dead fucking wrong.”
The gesture was thoughtful, but the situation went far beyond the cheating. My parents and their expectations of me complicated matters exponentially. Not to mention my strained relationships with my sisters and the belief I once held that marriage was the be-all and end-all. That I’d found my person and would be happy and loved and accepted forever.
“Say it. Out loud and in your own head. You did nothing wrong.”
Logically, I knew I wasn’t at fault. Being naïve wasn’t a crime. Neither was giving away trust so easily. But the stigma that came with a failed marriage by my early thirties was like a sin I’d carry with me forever. Being cheated on so many times, so brazenly, was like a tattoo on my heart, permanent and painful.
“I did nothing wrong,” I said softly.
