Page 131 of Van Cort
Their shadows shift as they begin walking back along the pathway to me.
“I need a better answer than that. I don’t even understand how you think this could work, but I need to understand what marriage looks like to you, West. I need it laid out so I can try and see this for what it is to you.”
“Can’t you see the differences between us already?”
“Yes, I can, but… I don’t know you, West. You’ve been pretending to be him and…” She goes quiet, as if there’s no other way of explaining the obvious.
“You should try to stop thinking about us as different people. Whilst we are, and there are parts of us that don’t really exist in Rhett in the same way anymore, he’s still me, and I’m still him. He might have lost his fun, his happiness, his joy, but they’re still at the heart of me, and you’ve seen that. Being with both of us will give you different parts of the same man.For me, marriage is being together and enjoying each step, learning, evolving. Finding new adventures together. For Rhett, it will be different.”
“Different how?”
“He’s who he is. I’m not sure evolving is on his radar or frequency. But maybe, with your love, and this honesty, you might find that version of him that disappeared.”
“You think? I’m not so sure. I don’t even know if I’d like that version of him in the same way. Everett is who he is to me, which, of course, has been partly you. God, this is so confusing.”
“You should talk to him about that. I can leave both of you if you want.”
“Both?”
“Yes, he’s right here.”
“Where?” he points at me.
“There. He’s been out here all night. Can’t you feel him?” She looks in my direction as the light from the rising sun suddenly breaks behind the building, shining a stream of varied colours over them. “You will one day. If you agree to both of us. You’ll feel the air different around us, and understand the tension that seems to follow him everywhere compared to me.”
“Funnily enough, I’d need to know there are two of you for that to make sense.” He laughs and looks at her, gently smiling like he used to, as she smiles a little beside him. I’ve missed that look on him. It isn’t hate-filled or lost, it’s home. “He hasn’t slept? At all?”
“He won’t sleep until this is resolved. He’s anxious. As am I. In fact, he might even be a little frightened.” My lips tip up. There’s only one person in the world that would ever know that about me. He’s it.
“Frightened? He doesn’t seem like the frightened kind. Is this something to do with your father?”
I sigh. If she doesn’t know that, we’re in trouble. “I’m frightened of losing you, River.” Her head moves sharply, and she peers back into the dark shadows I’m sitting in. “He is, too. Although my love is deeper, and so my fear is deeper. More volatile perhaps.”
“At least he’s honest,” West muses.
She looks between us, seeming confused again.
I’m not sure if it’s the statement or the look of us together.
“So you don’t love me as much as him?” she asks him.
“I do. I just don’t need to dramatise the situation as much as he does. I choose romance.” I snort.
“Dramatisation is romanticism. Choosing irresponsibility and amusement does not prove romance.”
“Why not? I have you for the mundane.”
She rubs at her shoulders and watches as we spar, still unsure, still confused. It’s enough for me to finish the conversation and look at her instead. Some part of me would like to pull her down into my lap now, to light a match for the fire pit and just sit out here forever, but that’s so far from the world we’re in now.
“Well, thank God you’re wearing different clothes,” she says. “You’d be impossible to tell apart if not. You even talk the same.”
“We’re very easy to tell apart. You just have to trust your feelings. Think more. Remember our time together so far. You’ll know exactly who’s who if you stop overthinking it.”
I stand and take an ornamental blanket off the back of the chair, wrapping it around her. “More sleep, I think. We can talk later, over breakfast. Any questions you’ve got, we’ll answer.” She doesn’t fight as I guide her back to the guest room she used, and West doesn’t follow me either because he knows, without me even saying anything, that we need to talk.
“I’m sorry,” comes out of me, as I open the bedroom door for her. “I’m not sorry for where we are, but I am sorry that I kept it from you for as long as I have. You deserved better.” She frowns and looks at her feet, searching for a comeback or answer. “I don’t know how I would have told you, but I should have done it somehow.” She looks up again, but keeps her mouth closed, so I nod and go to close the door.
“Everett?” I stop and turn back to her. “Is this a done deal? Both of you or neither of you?” My head rears back.
