Nerves hit my gut as I cross the street, pass through the small gate, and take the stairs to the front stoop in one step.
In and then out.
I can do this.
And when I get back, I’ll have Beau there waiting for me.
The thought of Beau launches the nerves into butterflies, and the lightness helps me to lift my hand and knock.
There are quick footsteps on the other side, and just as I hear them reach the door, I brace myself, prepared for that familiar hit of nostalgia when I see his face. Or a surge of rage. Or the bottomless pit of betrayal.
But when the door opens and there’s Kyle looking exactly the same as he ever has, I feel … nothing.
Huh.
“Hello.” My voice comes out strong and impersonal. It takes me by surprise, but damn do I like it. I lift the papers I’m holding. “You wanted to see me?”
He steps aside. “Yeah, come in.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Payne …” Kyle widens his eyes. “Please. I want to talk.”
“Why? Are you planning to give me a step-by-step on how you cheated on me for years?”
He recoils like I hit him. “You’re angry, I get it—”
“I’m not. Being angry at you gives you a right to my feelings, and … I’ve decided you don’t have that right anymore.”
He reaches up to tuck his longish hair back and then tugs on the ends like he does when he’s nervous. It used to be enough to get me to back down from whatever fight we had. Now I can see it for the manipulation move it is. “Please come in. Just give me five minutes. Surely after twelve years together you can spare me that.”
“Actually, I don’t owe you a second of my time,” I say but step into the house. “You do owe me answers though, so let’s do it.”
I don’t wait for his reply as I make my way down the short hall into a living area. I’d say I have no idea how he afforded this place, but I’m not that naive.
I stand in the middle of the room as he perches in an armchair.
“You can sit.”
“I won’t be here long enough to get comfortable.” I drop the papers on the table and cross my arms. “You’re also signing those while I’m here.”
Kyle sighs and pulls the papers toward himself. “I guess you want to know why I did it.”
For the last few months, hell, even for the whole drive here, I’ve wanted the answer to that question. I wanted to know why. I couldn’t wrap my head around how he could betray me like that.
Now … holy shit. I don’t actually care. “Explain if you want to, but nothing you say will be a reasonable excuse.”
“I’m not trying to excuse my actions—”
“Of course you are. You want me here to hear you out so you can fool yourself into thinking you tried. But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for you to try and feel better about yourself. What you did was fucked-up, and there’s no way you didn’t know that the whole time it was going on.”
“Can you blame me?” He throws himself back in his chair, and while his tone sounds wrecked, the expression on his face doesn’t change. His skin is flawless and eerily still.
“I can.”
“You weren’t an easy man to be married to.”
I almost ask what the hell he means by that, but I’m not falling into that trap. “I’m sorry you thought so. It’s a good thing I brought papers that will make all of that go away.”
“Do you even care what I have to say? Don’t you care why our relationship was so terribly off track that I had to turn to other men?”
“Surely I made it clear since I arrived that I really, really don’t.”
“Right.” His eyes go shiny like he’s about to cry, and it kills me I can still know him so well, even when he deceived me for so long. “I made a mistake.”
“Mistake? You think doing the same thing for two whole years is a mistake?” The burning rage I’ve felt since the separation is bubbling up inside me again. He’s trying to draw it out. Trying to force an argument that might escalate to makeup blow jobs like it often has in the past.
But that will never happen again.
And maybe I wouldn’t be so strong if I didn’t have Beau, who knows? But I also think he’s onto something with letting people help where they can, and the thought of him has never been more welcome.
“All I’m asking is that you give me a second chance. That we work on things. Don’t throw away twelve years together and make me out to be the bad guy when you’re not exactly innocent in all this.”
“Work on things?”
“Yes.” Kyle pushes to his feet and takes a tentative step forward. “I’ll delete my account, and we’ll go to counseling. I want to try. Maybe this had to happen so we’d take this time to miss each other and remember what we had.”
Is he … holy shit, he’s serious. I’m suddenly very, very grateful that I haven’t seen him before this moment because I know there’s a small part of me that would have agreed. That would have done what I needed to make this mess go away.
“Let’s say we did take each other for granted. Let’s say the romance was dead and we didn’t show each other the attention we once did. What then? We go to counseling and I spend that time learning how to trust you again, while you … what?” And suddenly, the calm I was feeling snaps. “Fuck our counselor?”
“Baby—”
“Don’t baby me. Maybe we were shitty to each other, but I’m not the one who slept around with other people. I’m not the one who went back on our vows. And I’m not the one standing here and trying to blame you for the shitty thing I did. There isn’t enough money in the entire fucking world that would entice me near you or your cheating ass ever again.”
His bottom lip trembles.
“Save it.” I pull out my pen and shove it into his hand. “Sign the goddamn papers. There’s no point in us talking anymore because you’re clearly set on trying to save something that no longer exists.”
Kyle sniffs but thankfully doesn’t fight me. He pulls the papers toward himself and signs the marked spaces. “All I wanted was an adult conversation.”
“Here’s an adult conversation for you. If you’d asked me before you started all that shit, we could have done it together. Who knows? Maybe it would have brought us closer, maybe we would have ended up right back here anyway. But if you ever date someone again, I hope you’ve learned your lesson, otherwise you’re going to end up very alone.”
Kyle rolls his eyes. “Like you can talk. Might want to remove that stick from your ass if you ever want to be boyfriend material.”
I take the paperwork and tuck it under my arm before he can think to change his mind. “I dunno, I think Beau likes the stick I have shoved up there.” I wink. “It’s easier to fuck me with.”
I turn on my heel and leave, and as I reach the front door, I hear him say, “If you mean Beau Rickshaw—”
The front door slams behind me, cutting off his words and that chapter of my life.
It might have been petty, I might not have handled that the way I wanted to, but damn it felt good.