Page 22 of If He Hadn't Cheated
I stare at him and I can see he means it.
No agenda.
Just escape.
The idea is so foreign that I almost laugh.
Instead, I nod. “Give me an hour before closing time.”
By 2:30 a.m., we’re in his black Pagani, windows down, music low. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. I don’t know where we’re going.
We end up at a lookout point above the city. The skyline stretches in front of us, glittering and endless. It’s quiet. Peaceful. I step out of the car and lean against the hood. He joins me.
We say nothing for a while. Just breathe. The silence is clean.
Finally, I say, “I think I’m losing it.”
“You’re not.”
“I haven’t slept right in weeks. I barely eat. I’ve been sober for four days and it feels like my skin is turning inside out.”
“That means you’re waking up.”
“I don’t know who I am when I’m awake.”
He looks at me. “You’re someone who still shows up.”
I scoff. “Barely.”
“Still counts.”
Then I whisper, “I don’t know how to do this without falling apart.”
“Then fall apart.”
I turn to him. “What?”
“You don’t have to hold it together for anyone.”
Tears sting my eyes. I blink fast. “No one’s ever said that to me.”
“They should have.”
We’re quiet again. The wind brushes my hair across my cheek. Knox reaches out and tucks it behind my ear. His touch is light. Careful. Like he knows how fragile I feel. I lean into it without meaning to. He lets me. And for a moment, I don’t feel broken. I just feel human.
I can’t lie to myself and tell myself it’s not because of him being here with me. Because for the first time, someone showed up.
10
It’s the stillness that gets me.
Not the noise. Not the pain. Not even the memories.
It’s the quiet that creeps in when everything else fades . When the drinks stop flowing, when the music dies, when Knox leaves me in front of my apartment and doesn’t ask to come up.
It’s in that space where I unravel. The calm. The kindness. The truth.
They all feel foreign. Too soft. Too generous. Like my skin doesn’t know what to do with anything that doesn’t cut. The doesn’t numb
