Standing sharply, Katrina lets her hands hang relaxed at her sides. “How do I feel now?” She laughs a little. “I guess you’ll have to read the new book. It’s the closest Nathan and I come to honesty.”
She walks out of the room, heading straight for the stairs.
I sit, silent. While the waters her confession plunged me into have started to calm, I’m still deep beneath the surface. I float, suspended. For the first time, the first moment I can remember of my entire life, not a single sentence strings through my thoughts.
44
Katrina
I walk upstairs to my room, feeling like I’m dreaming. It’s not a nice dream. I hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears. When I close my bedroom door, my breathing unsteady, I press my palms to my face. Heat sings from my skin.
I can hardly believe what just happened. Years of silence and lies, and I finally, finally told the truth. I was downstairs in this house I almost hate, listening to the reporter’s questions, knowing Chris was hearing every word of the lines we’d specifically prepared . . . and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand the thought of one more half truth passing Nathan’s lips, not when he’s spilled his soul onto his pages in ways he never would out loud. I couldn’t stand my own lies, either. The ones I tell myself about my feelings for Nathan, so familiar I sometimes forget they’re lies.
Above all, I was done lying to myself about my relationship. Lying awake next to my fiancé last night, I realized with searing clarity I hate what we’ve become.
I don’t move when I hear the door open.
“That was brilliant,” Chris says, moving into the room with evident delight in his quick steps. “You knocked it out of the park. Really. Liz is going to be ecstatic.” His green eyes glitter when they fix on me, waiting for me to share the victory.
This dream isn’t over. Its warped energy compels my next words. I look up, right into Chris’s chiseled face. “You honestly think I told a reporter I was in love with Nathan to make Liz happy?” I laugh, harsh and humorless. “I’m done. I’m done with this. It’s over, Chris.”
I watch him, cataloguing his every reaction. He’s stunned. Not hurt, yet. Indignation and defensiveness steal into his features.
“You’re firing me?” he says.
I say nothing. I don’t know how I could have possibly been unclear. In my silence, Chris steps forward with a smile like dark honey.
“Kat, babe,” he croons, “don’t be ridiculous. Even if you did fire me, I’d still be the agent on this deal. You know it’s my contract.”
I step back, like we’re partners in a spiteful dance. “That’s really all you care about, isn’t it?”
“Should I be ashamed for caring about my career?” His demeanor has darkened. “I know you don’t relate, Katrina, but honestly. The rest of us want to succeed. You just want to hide.”
It is, surprisingly, what I needed. His cruelty is liberating. It opens up something in me, some spring from which joy surges forth. I knew what I wanted to do. Now I have the strength to do it.
“I’m not firing you, asshole,” I say.
Wordlessly, I reach down to my left hand, where I wrench off the diamond engagement ring I’ve had for two very long years. I hold the piece of jewelry out to him, no uncertainty in my intention.
“We’re done,” I say softly.
Chris falters. I see some cord in him snap, and rage hurtles into his eyes. “Now that’s a fucking joke. What? For Nathan?” He doesn’t take the ring.
It’s perfectly ironic. He’s jealous? After weeks of saying I could do whatever I wanted with Nathan? Of course this is what gets to him. Chris wanted his future wife to be a writer. Having an affair didn’t factor into it. But now, when that goal is taken from him—now, he’s upset. “Not for anyone,” I snap, placing the ring on the dresser. “Except for us. We don’t work.”
Chris squares his shoulders. “I stood by you when you were nothing. When you couldn’t even get out of bed. When you cried to me, saying you’d never write again. When you weren’t yourself, I stayed. Now, you’re back to writing, and you’re done with me? Fucking hilarious, Katrina.”
“I was myself,” I reply hotly. “You just didn’t like who I’d become.”
He slams his fist on the dresser, which rattles against the wall. The ring jumps. I can’t help startling. I step backward, half fearful. While I know Chris would never hurt me, this conversation is going nowhere productive.