She held up her hand, giving us a better look at a ring that was twice the size of mine. My heart stopped, my veins going ice cold. “He was my fiancé. We were getting married next year. It’s my life too, okay?” The tears were back as she pressed her lips to her knuckles.
“Next year? He was still married to me,” I said, shaking my head. It felt like a cruel prank. My jaw tensed, my whole body rife with venom as I willed myself to calm down, though it was hardly any use.
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Becca said, her tiny hands on my cheeks as my tears began to fall. “It’s okay.” She had always loved to comfort me.
“How did you even meet him?” Clara asked Alaina. “You don’t work at the hospital.”
“He goes to other places besides the hospital,” I snipped, my hands shaking, though I had no idea why I was arguing that point.
“My grandmother was one of his patients,” Alaina said, ignoring me. “Not that I owe either of you any explanations.” She paused. “We met two years ago during one of her last surgeries. After she died…Lucas was the only one who was there for me.”
“Two years ago?” Clara asked, anger in her feeble voice for what seemed like the first time. “We’ve been dating twelve years, and you’re the one he proposed to? What the hell have you got that I don’t?”
“None of the engagements matter because he couldn’t be married to either of you,” I cut in, anger seething in my belly. “Lucas was my husband. He was Becca’s father. Now, I don’t know what promises he made to either of you, what lies he fed you, but today is his funeral. I’d appreciate it if you would both just leave so I can grieve with my child. We need to say goodbye.”
Clara’s eyes shot toward Alaina, and she frowned. “I’d like to say goodbye, too,” she said.
“Me too,” Alaina agreed. She looked at me. “I’ll make it quick.”
Without waiting for permission, Alaina approached the head of the casket. She leaned across it, and I couldn’t help picturing her draped across my husband in the same way. A tear cascaded down her cheek and onto the wood. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing the top with her eyes closed. I forced myself to look away, my vision blurring with fury.
When she lifted up, Clara quickly replaced her. Her sobs were loud and obnoxious as she fell over the casket. Alaina walked past me without a word, and I watched Clara fall apart, her cries carrying through the quiet cemetery.
“Would you wrap it up please?” I asked, staring at Becca’s worried expression as she watched the show. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Clara stood, walking away from the casket as she wiped her hand under her dripping nose. “I’m so sorry, Naomi.” I pressed my lips together. What was I supposed to say? It was okay? Nothing about this was okay.
Without another word, she was gone, headed back to her car, and I was left alone with Becca, Lucas’ casket, the confused-looking pastor, and an enormous amount of secrets.
I walked with trepidation toward the box that housed my husband’s body. I was still grieving, of course, but there were new feelings filling me now. Confusion. Anger. Heartbreak of a new kind.
“How could you have done this to us?” I asked, my voice a low whisper.
“What did I do, Mommy?” my daughter asked, touching my cheek again and pulling my face to look at her.
I smiled, twirling a finger through one of her spiral curls. “Nothing at all, sweetheart.”
“Where’s Daddy?” she asked, and I watched her eyes as they locked onto the blown-up photograph of Lucas on our left.
“Daddy’s gone, baby,” I told her with a kiss on her cheek. “But he’ll always be with us.” The knots in my stomach tightened as I realized just how true that was. The repercussions of my husband’s choices, his mistakes, I had a feeling, would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Chapter Two
Clara
I walked into the apartment with a lit cigarette in my mouth. It had been so long since I’d allowed myself such an indulgence. Luke always hated the smell, and my years of medical practice told me of the damage it was causing, but something deep inside of me still craved it on hard days.
Today was an especially hard day.
Meeting Naomi for the first time, discovering the truth about all that Luke had lied about—keeping in the truth of what I had to lie about—it was all that I could do to hold it together. And I had to hold it together.
I was due at the hospital soon for two back-to-back surgeries, but I’d overestimated my abilities. When I received the news of Luke’s funeral, I lost it. God, I lost it. Somehow, learning that he was going to be buried made it all real.
When we met, back when I started my internship and he was already a bright, young surgeon a few years younger than I was, I thought he was a pretentious asshole. As I got to know him more, I realized it was completely true. But he was also charming and incredibly kind.
He didn’t judge me for starting medical school twenty years later than the rest of my class. He told me he was proud of me. Said it was brave to start out later in life. He walked me through my first surgery when I froze up—refused to help, and insisted I could do it on my own. And, of course, he was right. I did it.
It was one of my fondest memories of him—him teaching me to go for it on my own. Little did I know, he was preparing me for a future without him.
How dare you? How dare you do this to me?
I fell to the floor of our living room in agony, the rough carpet scraping my knees and elbows. Everything in our apartment was a reminder of him. The couch he helped me pick out, the curtains he’d helped hang, the kitchen counter from where we’d shoved a cookie sheet to the floor while we were making love just a few short weeks ago.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. My emotions were so conflicted as I ran my hands through the carpet of my home, my body shaking with silent sobs. I thought the worst thing I’d ever experience would be losing him, but I was wrong. Finding out he betrayed me, that he’d lied about so much while having no place to displace that anger, that was what hurt the most. I’d heard before that grief is just love with no place to go. I wondered if they had a word for fury with the same problem. I wanted to be mad at him, I wanted to hate him…but what good would it do? It wouldn’t affect anyone but me at that point.
I was not sure I knew who I was without Luke. He was such a huge part of my life for twelve years. Hell, if I were being honest, aside from surgery, he was my whole life for twelve years.
Now, he was gone, and I was left to figure out how to feel about him and myself, and this whole other life he was living. Two other lives.
How could I have been so blind to his lies? When I’d caught him in a lie the first time, I should’ve walked away. But I believed him. I believed him when he said he loved me. I believed him when he said he’d never lie again. I believed him when he said everything was going to be okay.
But nothing was okay.
Nothing would ever be okay again.
Luke wasn’t to blame for the worst of it, though. I knew that. Still, it didn’t ease the pain I felt.
How much of what I believed about the man I loved was a lie?