Life After Taylah(68)
“Where are you?” she asks.
“I’m out,” he answers.
“You didn’t stay long last night. I thought you would after what we did . . .”
My world spins. He came back last night? Last night? He went to her? He . . . oh, God. He looks up quickly and sees me shaking my head and backing towards the bathroom. He quickly barks, “I’ll call you later,” into the phone before snapping it closed and taking a step towards me.
“Avery . . .”
“I’ll ask once, and once only, Nate,” I whisper. “Did you get home last night?”
He nods, his eyes pained. “Yeah, I did. I needed to see Macy.”
“And you . . .” I swallow, because it hurts. God, it fucking hurts. “You fucked her?”
He closes his eyes and drops his head. “I didn’t fuck her, I . . . she . . .”
“She what?” I say, my voice low and gravelly.
“It doesn’t matter, Avery. It meant nothing. She was trying to make it better, trying to fix this and . . .”
“What did she do?” I say, cupping either side of my head and shaking it from side to side.
“I’m not telling you, because it’s not worth the pain.”
“Did she suck your cock?” I cry, irrational.
His face answers everything for me.
“Does it...” I swallow, trembling. “Happen a lot?”
“No it doesn’t fuckin’ happen a lot. Shit, Avery – this is the first time since you. I barely kept it up and ended up walking out half way through, making a pathetic excuse to leave. You have no fucking idea how hard it is. How could you? You’re naive and young, and you’ve never lived through what I have.”
I take another step back into the bathroom. Reality—this is fucking reality. I’m a mistress. I’m the other woman. I’m the one he goes to when he’s feeling down, but he always, always goes home to her first and who the hell am I to judge him for that? She’s his fucking wife. Tears glide down my cheeks as I realize what a fool I’ve been.
“Avery,” he whispers, stretching a hand out. “It wasn’t what you think.”
“Leave, Nate,” I gasp through sobs.
“It’s not . . . She’s my fucking wife – how can you be angry at me for that?”
“I know that,” I sob, trying not to scream. “I should have paid more attention to that all along, and then I never would have ended up in this situation. This is my fault—all my fucking fault.”
“Avery, don’t say that. It meant nothing. Fuck, it was empty and emotionless . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” I wail, shaking my head from side to side. “Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter. It hurts, Nate. It hurts like you’ve just been with another woman behind my back. It feels like you’ve cheated, and yet you haven’t. This is my own stupid fault; I am a naive, pathetic girl who should have realized sooner that you were never going to leave.”
His eyes become panicked. “I never said that. Shit, Avery, I never . . .”
“Leave, Nate.”
“No. I’m not leaving until you listen; you need to listen.”
“Listen to what?” I scream, unable to hold back. “To you telling me it’s okay? It’s not okay. Now leave.”
I hear footsteps on the stairs and so does he. He looks torn, his eyes darting to the door and back to me. Then he closes his eyes, clenches his fists and turns, lifting my window and disappearing out of it like he was never here. A second later a knock sounds on my door. I don’t move; I don’t want to move. I can’t hold back my emotions, can’t pretend anymore.
“Avery?” Kelly calls. A moment later, the door opens and he steps inside, followed by Max. I’m standing pitifully in the doorway, tears running down my face.
“Shit,” Kelly says, rushing over and pulling me into his arms. “Honey, what happened?”
“It’s nothing,” I lie. “I just had a massive fight with Jacob on the phone.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry.
It’s not him who should be sorry. It’s me who should be sorry.
~*~*~*~
AVERY
They say bad things happen in threes. Two weeks ago my life felt real. Nate was with me and I felt a love I’d never felt before. Now it’s been three days since I told him to leave my house, and I’ve not heard from him since. A part of me, a huge part of me is praying that he’ll call. The agony ripping through my chest is something I can’t explain. It burns every second of every minute of every hour of the day.
He’s broken me.
Yet a part of me is so sure he’s coming back. He loves me. I love him. Maybe he’s leaving Lena; maybe he’s going to come to my doorstep any minute and tell me we’re going to be happy together, forever. That moment doesn’t come—no—but he does come to my doorstep. His eyes are broken, his face completely lacking in emotion. I know even before he says it. I know . . . I fucking know.