Page 110 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
But her tone is almost heartbreakingly gentle.
“Please don’t do this.”
I open my mouth to ask do what but she keeps talking.
Probably for the best, because her next words highlight how supremely stupid that would have been.
“Don’t discount my emotions,” she says more firmly. “Don’t try to gaslight me into thinking that what you’ve been dealing with since I came into your life isn’t going to be—or maybe already is—a huge gulf between us.” She exhales, gentles again. “You’ve been perfect, Gray. Freaking wonderful from that first moment at the hospital and ever since.”
“So what’s the problem?” I ask edgily.
“You’re keeping a huge part of yourself back.”
“That’s not fair,” I say even though she’s not wrong.
Her brows just lift in challenge.
“I’ve been more honest with you than I’ve been with anyone else in my life.”
Her head cants to the side and she studies me for several heartbeats before she murmurs, “I believe that.”
“Then drop this shit and?—”
“I can’t. I can’t.” Teeth nibbling into her bottom lip. “I want to give you an out, want to let this go. But I love you, Gray and I can’t stand by and watch you tear yourself apart?—”
“I’m not?—”
“Honey, I saw your face when Courtney came to the baby shower, when she watched us through the window in the kitchen, even when you locked her out tonight.”
“Red,” I rasp, heart seizing.
“So you can’t possibly think I’ve missed that you thought I was going to flip out when you turned and saw me there at the bottom of the stairs, that it almost seems as though you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop and things to go bad between us.” An exhale, her voice gentling. “Or that I’ve forgotten you told me no woman in your life has ever stood up for you.”
I close my eyes.
“And I definitely haven’t forgotten how you react to the old stories in the news or the videos online or the way you look at me sometimes, as though half-expecting me to disappear.”
My pulse is pounding through my veins, through the tightly clenched muscles of my jaw.
“I’m here,” she says, settling her hand above my racing heart, my lids flying open. “I see you. I love you.”
I want to say those words back.
But they won’t come.
I can’t do anything except stand there, frozen, as terror grips my insides.
“Why are you so afraid of her?”
“Courtney is?—”
“Not Courtney. You. Why are you afraid of her?”
“I told you. We’re toxic together and?—”
“No, Gray. What are you feeling when she shows up?”
Bile begins to burn the back of my throat.
