Tell me to stay. Please tell me and I will.
His jaw rippled. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, the pieces of my exploded heart fluttering like confetti. “I guess there’s no time like the present.”
This was the right thing to do. Moving back here didn’t mean we were breaking up, even though it felt like it at the moment.
Most couples didn’t live together so early in the relationship. This was a good thing. We’d both have some breathing room and when we saw each other at work and maybe on date nights, it would be even more exciting.
This was for the best.
It was right.
We’d both be happier this way.
And if Elliot really was pulling away from me, I’d already have my lovely home to live in and nurse my shredded fucking heart.
“Efficient,” Elliot muttered. “Right, well, I have to head to the office for a few hours. I’ll take you back to my place so you can pack your things. Anything big I can bring later.”
I straightened my shoulders and put on a shiny smile. “That sounds like a plan. Let’s get going.”
I could be brave. This was a good thing.
Joey and I had been happy living with Elliot, but we would be happy here too. We would make memories, and if we were lucky, Elliot would be part of a lot of them. But if he wasn’t, if he really wanted out, we’d still have each other.
Chapter Thirty-five
Elliot
Ten p.m. on a Saturday night in the office wasn’t unusual for me. In fact, I used to look forward to the weekends so I could spend late nights alone, in silence, getting my work done without anyone bothering me.
The last few months, things had changed, and home had held far more enticement than work.
Until today.
Without Catherine and Joey, I had no interest in returning. My plan was to work until I couldn’t keep my eyes open then go home and crash.
Rinse and repeat tomorrow.
I’d run the moment I’d left her over and over in my head, trying to find something I could have done differently. She hadn’t been flipping with joy when I’d driven away, but she’d been so fucking enthusiastic about her house I hadn’t been able to see a way to deny her.
We weren’t broken up. That wasn’t what I wanted, and I was nearly certain it wasn’t what Catherine wanted. But our relationship was changing in a way I did not agree with.
I would get used to this.
Catherine and I would still see each other daily, and I would be able to see Joey…well, probably not daily anymore.
“Motherfucker.”
A ball of helpless rage shot me to my feet. My chest was too tight. I couldn’t catch my breath. My hands flexed and straightened at my sides.
I wouldn’t see my baby girl every day anymore.
Before I knew I was going to do it, I had ripped my keyboard away from my computer and hurled it across the room. It landed with an impotent clatter, not even having the decency to break.
“Motherfucker!” I bellowed, ripping at my hair in frustration.
My chest hurt. My stomach ached. My lungs were the size of shriveled grapes. I didn’t want to be in this office. I wanted my girls. My family.
Stalking out of my office, I stopped at Catherine’s desk, my gaze landing on her drawer, and I knew what I needed.
A nice dose of P.S. You’re intolerable.
I hadn’t looked in the drawer since she’d been back from maternity leave, and now I wondered what she’d been writing. If she’d been writing.
She didn’t find me intolerable anymore, that much I was sure of. But Catherine still played a lot of her feelings close to the vest.
Sliding the drawer open, I tossed the tampon box aside and retrieved her secret envelope. It was tan instead of white. Frowning at my discovery, I placed it on her desk and sank into her chair.
This envelope was unquestionably thinner than the previous one I’d invaded. It was newer too, and when I peeked inside, there were far fewer strips of paper.
She must have started a new collection when she’d returned.
I unceremoniously dumped the contents on the desk. Strips of paper with Catherine’s neat handwriting fluttered across the surface. Forcing myself to wait to read them, I arranged the strips in neat rows.
Only then did I pick up the first one.
P.S. I hope your pillow is cool tonight.
That wasn’t an angry message. I read the next one.
P.S. May your bread always toast evenly.
P.S. You have a very cute butt.
I laughed. My heart was across town in a house I despised, but her words still made me laugh.
I kept reading.