21. Teysha

21

TEYSHA

An eternity might as well pass us by. That's how long the moment feels as Logan and Rita turn their attention onto me. I let go of Logan's arm and stitch together the best response I can. It's full of ums and uhs and I settle on coming clean.

Sort of.

"I… I told her we were, um, working things out," I say. "But that's because… I thought… weren't we?"

"We were waiting to hear back from the clerk's office. You said you'd keep reaching out to them for an update."

Rita prods the scarlet frames of her glasses higher up her nose. "That's not what happened. I have called you both several times over the past few weeks. Your voice mailbox needs to be emptied out, Mr. Cutler. Your wife did eventually answer her phone, but it was to tell me the annulment case no longer needed to move forward."

The sticky summer air shifts from uncomfortable to outright unbearable. I wipe my brow, grateful I haven't eaten today as the sick feeling in my stomach intensifies. I'm being put on the spot when I wasn't prepared; it wasn't part of my plan to run into Mrs. Lewis-Castillo.

"I didn't mean to… I was just…" I trail off, unsure of what else to say.

The muscle in Logan's jaw tics. He nods at the clerk and says, "I'll be reaching out on Monday."

Then he's off. He strides away, cutting a forceful path through the bike show crowd. My heart explodes in panicked beats as I rush to go after him. Rita catches me first, stepping in my way. Her lips have thinned, her eyes sharp.

"So you're aware, this will be documented. The court does not look favorably on liars."

I inhale a breath to find panic quickly spreading. "Please… just… move out of my way."

I scurry my way around her, accidentally stepping into another man who happens to be passing by. Murmuring a quick apology to him, I scan the area for the direction Logan went in. The bike show becomes a maze of strangers that block every conceivable path I choose to go down. I squeeze myself between a family of four, finally reaching the parking lot.

Logan's headed for his pickup truck.

"Babe, where are you… wait for me!"

I catch up to him as he's wrenching the driver's side door open. "Teysha, go back to the bike show."

"We should talk. I promise I can explain."

"Who says I want to hear that explanation?" he snaps.

"I really did think… I was hoping…"

"You thought wrong. You hoped wrong. I trusted that you were telling the truth. But apparently it was bullshit."

"Logan, can we please talk about it?"

Stragglers wandering the parking lot take notice. I fumble with the door handle on the passenger side, desperate to climb inside before he takes off. I make it just as the truck engine roars to life.

But my hope we'll talk fades away.

Logan glares out the windshield, his focus on the road. The truck swings around the street corner in a wild turn that burns rubber and makes a nearby car honk its horn. My pleas fall on deaf ears the entire drive home.

He's retreated into silence, shutting me out. It's like I don't exist. I'm invisible to him.

I can't take a breath. When I go to try, my lungs fail me. I'm fractured on the inside as heartbreak finally bursts free. It cuts deep, rocking me to my core, leaving me breathless and aching.

How do I begin explaining myself? How can I make him understand all I wanted was a chance?

I wasn't trying to deceive him to hurt him. I just wanted to love him…

For him to love me in return.

I'm a wreck by the time we reach the apartment.

Logan spares me no second glance. The driver's side door slams shut as he jumps out and heads up the staircase to an apartment I'd started to think of as home.

I trail behind him, feeling even sicker than before. Once inside, he finally addresses me. His tone is cold and hollow, like I'm a stranger, not his wife.

"I made it clear from the beginning this wasn't permanent. You disrespected that by lying to me," he says from over his shoulder. He's gone straight for the fridge in the kitchen. "I'm guessing you thought I'd never find out."

"You have to understand. It wasn't malicious?—"

"I don't have to understand a damn thing. You lied to me . For weeks! "

I flinch at the volume of his voice, feeling dazed and unprepared for this moment. The moment where I'm forced to face reality.

"Did you think I'd fall in love with you? That what you were hoping for? That we'd live happily ever after like some fucking storybook?" He's opened the fridge to reach for a can of beer, popping the tab as he casts me a look that's so honest and brutal, what's left of my heart shatters. "I've got news for you, Teysha. Storybooks ain't real. What's real is what I told you from the start—this was never gonna last."

There it is, right there.

The truth of the matter summed up in a single withering look. In five simple words.

The disappointing reality can no longer be bathed in the rosy tint of hopes and dreams. My fantasy was just that—a fantasy where we beat the odds and made this forced arrangement work. We'd fall in love like a real husband and wife love each other, like I've dreamed of since I was a little girl.

We'd give meaning to the vows we took even if they were empty the day we married.

But I've run away with these delusions. I've let them rule me.

I ignored the inescapable reality that my husband wanted the opposite. He wants nothing to do with me.

"I'm… sorry…" I stammer out.

"Look," he sighs, setting the beer can down and planting his hands flat on the kitchen counter. "Wires got crossed somewhere. You got confused and started thinking things you shouldn't've. It's best if you go stay somewhere else. Away from me. I'll call up Mace. He and Syd have that extra room."

"Oh… okay. "

"It'll be better this way. Keep things separate. Then when the marriage is dissolved?—"

"I'll just go home. Back to Boulder."

"Might not seem like it now, but it'll be easier on you. Give you time and space to move on."

I can barely bring myself to nod as he walks out of the kitchen and disappears into his bedroom. Probably to go make the call he's mentioned. Tell Mason and Sydney all about how I've lied and dreamed up some delusion about our marriage.

I almost wish for his anger to return. For him to show some passion. Some feeling. He can't even bring himself to raise his voice anymore.

It's truly over between us.

My eyes squeeze shut at the emptiness inside me. The hole that's so unfulfilled, so profound, it hurts. I brush more beads of sweat from my brow, feeling sick to my stomach, and walk toward the second bedroom where my things are—the duffle bag I've often packed and unpacked over the past few weeks. Barely bothering to check what's inside, I zip it up and hoist it over my shoulder.

The door to Logan's room is closed. His throaty rasp pierces through the door anyway, traces of a phone conversation reaching me.

I don't let myself listen in.

Logan was right when he said it'll be easier if I have time and space. But, for once, I'm going to find my own way.

I'm going to finally accept what I've fought against. Everything I've ever believed was a lie.