Maybe I needed to have a conversation with him instead of Olivia. If she wasn’t ready to tell me the truth, maybe he would—man to man.
I looked around the large, first-floor guestroom and immediately felt a visceral kick to my gut, my chest tightening. This is where we’d unraveled Olivia’s grief, loving her until she was so raw and vulnerable again, she had nowhere left to hide. God, I’d been stupid to think we could walk away from something like that with no repercussions. As much as I hated to admit it, the jerk was still in my heart. How could he not be in Liv’s, too?
I was on my way out the door when a piece of paper caught my eye from the top of the desk. I picked it up and unfolded it, not sure if I was going to like what I saw. The last time something like this happened, I’d found proof of my wife’s feelings as she bled her love all over the rendering that she’d sketched of him. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she loved him then—and she confirmed it when I confronted her. Because that’s what we did. We told the truth.
That is, until she decided not to. Until she chose to deliberately lie straight to my face when I asked her point-blank if she’d fucked him when I wasn’t there.
No.
Funny how one simple word could decimate a marriage so wholly, so quickly. I saw the way the guilt ate at her since then. Knew she was finally talking to her therapist. I hoped one day she’d start talking to me again, too. Because this in-between business was torture.
I looked down at the paper and realized the letter was addressed to me.
Ryan,
We’ve been through some stuff, haven’t we? Remember when you sat me down at the Crown and Feather and asked me to help you? What was the one thing we promised? Honesty above all else. I’m sorry if I ended up hurting you. I never meant to. Just like I never meant to fall in love with Olivia. You have to believe me.
On days when you’re mad at me, or at her, just remember that we weren’t the ones who started this. But even now, I don’t regret it. Because you were right.
When Olivia’s happy, there is nothing more beautiful in the world. I will always love her, just as I will you. (As a friend, dude, so relax.) As funny as it sounds, this summer was the happiest I’ve ever been. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want you to hate me, either. I know it hurts to see me around, and I wish I could change that. I guess it’ll just take time. I hope someday I can have you both in my life again, somehow. For now, go easy on her. She’s trying, and we all made mistakes.
She loves you more than anything in the world. You know that, so don’t push her away. Forgive her. Keep being the rock she needs. She’s come a long way since I first met her. You have, too. Though you could stand to lose the scowl. (Just sayin’.)
I’ll leave you with my favorite quote from a remarkable human named Stephanie Johnson. “At all times, people are doing one of two things. They’re either showing love, or they’re crying out for it.”
Get clear which you’re doing, what you need from Olivia, and what she needs from you. Then be there for each other. And love, damn it.
If our kids have taught us anything, it’s that life is too fucking short. Don’t waste another day of it holding on to anger.
Take care,
Brighton
I didn’t even realize the tears were falling until one splashed onto his note and smeared the blue ink. I made my way upstairs because I knew exactly what Liv was doing tonight. She was crying out.
And somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten how to listen.
Chapter Three
Olivia
I NEVER HEARD Ryan enter the bathroom. The glass shower walls were fogged all around me, and I was sitting on the tiled floor, my head against the wall, as hot water streamed over me, scalding away all the hurt and pain I was releasing. I was clutching my stomach, as I often did, remembering the feel of my babies inside of me. I could no longer tell the difference between my tears and the water streaming over the long tendrils of my hair, now plastered to my face and chest.
“Jesus, Liv.”
Ryan stepped inside the shower in his tuxedo and sat on the floor with me, pulling me into his arms. Then he did what I’d been needing for weeks. He held me. He rocked me while I cried in his arms. He kissed the top of my head. He told me we would be okay.
When he lifted my chin, his eyes stripped me more naked than my body already was. I clutched his white dress shirt in my hands as I searched his familiar brown eyes. What happened to us? Where did we go so horribly wrong?
Torrents of tears freely fell down my cheeks as I whispered the dark words of truth holding my heart hostage. “Ryan, I need to tell you something.”
“Livy,” he said slowly, his voice breaking, “we don’t have to do this right now. I know tonight was hard enough. I’m sorry I was such an ass instead of helping you through it.”
“I have to,” I said, my eyes pleading with his. “It’s breaking me, Ryan. If I don’t, there won’t be anything left of me—of the Olivia you fell in love with.”
He brushed my lips softly, his beard dragging across the delicate skin of my cheek as he pulled me against his body, holding on for dear life. His hand cupped the back of my head as the water streamed hot over us. Ryan’s crisp tuxedo shirt was now soggy beneath my fingertips. I needed to remember every moment, because there would always be a before and after from this devastation. And I wanted to remember the feeling of my husband holding me, loving me still.
I whispered quietly in his ear, so softly I wasn’t sure he would hear me. “I’m sorry, Ry. I’m so sorry.”
His body racked against mine, and I knew I’d broken him.
I wrapped my arms around the barrel of his chest, sinking farther into him. “When you asked me if I’d slept with him—”
“Don’t,” he begged. “It’s been a long night.”
“I need you to know.”
“Do you really think I don’t?” he rasped. He pulled back so I could see the tears pooling in his eyes. Then he ran his hand over the front of my face, his fingertips resting on my lips.
“You asked me for the truth, so I need to give it to you. I swear to god, I’ve never lied to you before. Not once in our marriage.”
“But you did that day, didn’t you?”
I nodded, my breathing getting shallower with each inhalation. “We were alone together. Without you,” I cried out, my voice breaking. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Ryan.”
My body shook as I descended into a full anxiety attack. My body heaved, as if trying desperately to corral my splintered heart.
Ryan turned me around, so my back was to his chest. He wrapped me in his arms and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Livy,” he said, his voice thick with the emotion he wasn’t letting himself unpack yet so he could focus on me.
“The worst is behind us. Find something to focus on. Tell me what you see.”
He was helping me ground, to come down from my panic attack. “The loofah,” I said, my chest rising and falling as I took short, quick gasps of air.
“What do you smell?”
“You,” I said, resting my head against the hard muscles of his chest as I fought to stay present.