“Hi,” I greet him a little awkwardly while my mind goes to war over hugging him.
He doesn’t reply, but rather simply stands there, staring at me as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
And then—“I’m married.” His voice cracks on the two words a woman never wants to hear, and where I should be pissed off at his confession, I know deep in my gut that there’s more to this.
I’m not sure what to say, so I say nothing.
“Her name is Jolene…” He stumbles over her name as if it’s the last word he wants to escape from his lips. I sense his distaste and instantly dislike Jolene while wondering what she did to him to make him feel this way.
The silence swirls around us and the winter chill of the July night cuts through to my bones. Or maybe it’s the thought that a married man kissed me two nights ago, and all I can think about is kissing him again. And even though it’s wrong and I’ve always sworn I’d never get involved with a married man, it feels so damn right, and that scares the hell out of me.
I remain silent, waiting for him to say the words that could make this all ri
ght.
We’re separated.
That would work.
“We’ve been married for five years,” he says, and I hear the same emptiness in his words that I can see in his eyes. “Fuck!” He shoves his fingers through his hair as he snaps, and I sense the fury punching through his body. I’m guessing those five years haven’t been the happiest five years for him.
“So you’re still together?” I hold my breath waiting for his reply.
“No. Yes… No, not really. Shit, Callie, it’s so fucking complicated.”
My patience is wearing thin. I don’t understand what he’s trying to tell me. A person is either married, or they’re not. My frustration turns me a little snarky. “I’m sure that’s the line every married man uses, Luke.”
He takes a step as if to enter my apartment and when I don’t move to let him through, he pauses and asks, “Can I come in so I can try to explain this fucked-up situation to you?”
“So long as your explanation involves more than ‘it’s complicated’.”
His lips pinch together. “It will.”
I step aside and usher him in.
A moment later, he blows my mind with his revelation.
“Two years ago, my wife was sent to jail for murder. More specifically for the murder of her own mother. I did everything to fight the charges. Hired her the best lawyer money could buy, had a private investigator look into it. No stone was left unturned, and yet, she was found guilty. I’ve spent the last two years trying to fight the conviction. It’s been hell, but I’ve clung to her innocence. Everything I’ve done has been geared towards proving that.” He stops talking and begins pacing while holding the back of his neck.
I’m stunned into silence. Never in a million years did I expect that.
He stops moving and turns to me. His nostrils flare, and his eyes fill with anger. “But she’s not fucking innocent,” he says, stunning me even further.
“How do you know that?”
“We found new evidence proving it was her.”
My mind swims with more confusion. “Okay, back it up, and tell me everything. I’m not really grasping all this.”
“Yeah, that’s two of us.” Defeat snakes its way through his words. “I only discovered Jolene’s lies six months ago when we discovered the new evidence, and I’m still trying to piece it all together.”
I frown. “Why would she kill her own mother?”
“I have no idea.” His anger is extreme, and I don’t blame him. I’d be gutted if I discovered my spouse had done what she has.
I try to process what he’s said, but I struggle. “This is the kind of stuff you just don’t think happens in real life. Like, it happens in the movies and books, but not to people you know.” I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s been going through all this time. He’s never shared anything about his past with us.
We grow silent, each consumed with our own thoughts. I have a million questions but don’t want to bombard him. Sharing this information is clearly a big step for him, and I know he’s not a huge talker, so I decide to wait for him to share more without prompting.