My heart is hammering against my chest when Ryle approaches. I don’t even try to hide behind a fake expression when I look him in the eye.
He holds my stare for a few seconds and then side-eyes Lucy. He nudges his head toward my office. “Can we talk?”
“I was just leaving.” My words come out quick and firm. “I have to pick up our daughter.”
I can see Ryle’s left hand grip the edge of the counter. He squeezes it, and the muscles in his arm flex. “Please. It won’t take long.”
I look at Lucy. “Wait for me to lock up?” She gives me a reassuring nod, so I turn on my heels and walk to my office. I can hear him right behind me. I fold my arms over my chest and suck in a breath before I can face him.
I’m so sick of his remorse. I want to wipe that stupid frown off his face, I’m so angry.
“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and winces, coming closer. “I had too much to drink at an event last night and…”
I say nothing.
“I don’t even remember sending those texts, Lily.”
I still say nothing. He begins to fidget, growing uncomfortable in my silent anger. He slides his hands into his pockets and stares at his feet. “Did you tell Allysa?”
I don’t answer that question. If anything, it infuriates me even more. He’s worried what his sister will think of him more than what kind of damage he’s doing to me? “No, but I told a lawyer.” I’m lying, but it’ll be the truth as soon as he leaves this building. From this point forward, I’m documenting everything he does to me. Atlas is right. Ryle looks perfect on paper, and if he’s going to continue with abusive tactics, I need to protect myself and Emerson.
Ryle’s eyes slowly journey to mine. “You what?”
“I sent them to my lawyer.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Seriously? You pinned me against a door on Sunday, and then you sent me threatening texts in the middle of the night. I have done nothing to deserve this, Ryle!”
He pulls his hands from his pockets and squeezes the back of his neck as he spins to face the other direction. He stretches his back while he sucks in a breath. He seems to be holding that breath in while he silently counts in an attempt to subdue the anger building in him.
We both know how those techniques have worked in the past.
When he turns around, the remorse is gone. “You don’t see the pattern, here? Are you really that blind?”
Oh, I definitely see a pattern, but I think we’re looking at different ones.
“We’ve been fine for a year, Lily. We didn’t have a single issue until he showed back up. Now we’re fighting all the time, and you’re getting lawyers involved?” He looks like he wants to punch the air.
“Stop blaming your behavior on other people, Ryle!”
“Stop ignoring the common fucking denominator for all of our problems, Lily!”
Lucy appears in the doorway of my office. She looks from me to Ryle, and then back to me. “Are you okay?”
Ryle lets out an exasperated laugh. “She’s fine,” he says, irritated. Ryle walks toward the door, and Lucy has to press herself against the doorframe to avoid being bumped into. “A fucking lawyer,” I hear him mutter. “Let me take one guess as to whose idea that was.” Ryle is walking toward the door like he’s on a mission. Lucy and I both exit my office, most likely for the same reason. To lock him out once he exits the shop.
When Ryle reaches the front door of the building, he spins around and stabs me with a sharp glare. “I am a neurosurgeon. You work with flowers, Lily. Remember that before your lawyer does anything stupid to threaten my career. I pay for that fucking apartment you live in.” His threat is punctuated by his hands slamming open the door.
Lucy is the one to lock it after he finally leaves because I’m frozen from the impact of that last insult. She walks back to me and pulls me in for a sympathetic hug.
I realize in this moment that the hardest part about ending an abusive relationship is that you aren’t necessarily putting an end to the bad moments. The bad moments still rear their ugly heads every now and then. When you end an abusive relationship, it’s the good moments you put an end to.
In our marriage, the few terrifying incidents were blanketed by so many good ones, but now that our marriage is over, the blanket has lifted and all I’m left with are the worst pieces of him. Where our marriage was once full of heart and flesh that cushioned the skeleton, all that’s left is the skeleton now. Sharp, bony edges that slice right through me.