The plates clanged as I stacked them, loaded them into the dishwasher.
Karson sat and watched me as I did so. I sensed he was savoring the moment too.
With my back to him, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to have the strength not to ruin this. It had been long enough. More than long enough. I should be strong enough to try. Brave enough.
I braced my hands on the sink for a moment longer before I turned. Karson had been watching me the entire time, his eyes solid, his posture tight.
The fantasy was over.
“I’m sorry for last night,” I said quietly. “Really fucking sorry. You did not deserve that.”
He stared at me a long time. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I’m not going to listen to an apology. That needed to happen.”
I chewed over his words. He was right, of course. If I’d held on to all of that for much longer, it would’ve turned even more toxic inside of me. Would’ve seeped into my cells and changed me for the worst.
I regarded Karson. The man who kept coming back for me. Who kept fighting for me. Who continued to forgive me. Who deserved, more than anyone, a family.
“I’ve traveled around the world since it happened, looking for something to believe in,” I said quietly. “Searching faiths and gods for a world in which what happened makes sense. A world that has a god who lets things like that happen. I didn’t find anything to believe in.”
Karson surged forward as my voice broke. His hands gripped either side of my neck, eyes burning into mine. “Believe in us,” he demanded, emotion making his voice rough. “You don’t need to search for a higher power, a fucking god. Because what we have is something more than that. It’s tangible. It’s real. It’s right fuckin’ here. I’m right fuckin’ here. I’m not going anywhere. I will follow you wherever you go. I will worship at your altar.” His hands moved down my neck, skimming the sides of my body. His thumb brushed over the area where my clothes covered a scar.
I jerked back.
“I will not lose you,” he whispered, his voice as broken as I’d ever heard it. It seeped inside of the cracks that he’d made in my shield. “I cannot lose you. Not after we lost her. I will not let the death of our child kill us too. I refuse.”
My lip trembled at his words, as I fought against the urge to burst into tears, to jump into his fucking arms and let him fix everything.
But I clenched my fists, stayed still. There was nothing left to fix.
“Don’t you see, baby?” I asked on a whisper. “We’re already dead.”
And it being the hardest thing I’d had to do since leaving the hospital, I turned on my heel and left him.
I snatched up my purse on the way out, intending to head to the nearest Nordstrom, buy everything I needed for New Zealand then meet the girls at the airport.
Me running away to another country. It was like fucking Groundhog Day.
Self-destruct. Let Karson put me back together. Rip him apart. Leave. Repeat.
It repulsed me.
I wasn’t going to ruin Richard’s wedding by being a depressed, heartbroken asshole. I’d done enough of being a depressed, heartbroken asshole. This whole thing had dragged on much longer than I’d intended. I hadn’t expected to heal, not completely. That would never happen. But I did expect Karson to eventually give up. Get on with his life. I didn’t think so little of him to think that he would forget her. That he wouldn’t mourn for her for the rest of his life.
I knew that he would.
My villain had a heart. A huge one. And it was broken. Pieces scattered everywhere inside of him. And he wouldn’t be able to breathe without them cutting his insides for a long time. If ever.
But I thought I was giving him a chance at a different kind of life without me. Thought I was being kinder by pushing him away. Or maybe I was lying to myself and being utterly selfish
Whatever.
I’d done what I’d done.
Damned myself.
Yet he was still here.
He was still fighting for us.