Fall From Grace

PROLOGUE

CARSON

Six Months Ago

“What the fuck are you saying?” I ask Tiffany as I feel like everything inside of me is being ripped apart.

“I-I can’t do this anymore,” she says as she sniffles and wipes away a nonexistent tear.

“You can’t do this anymore? What the hell does that even mean?” I growl as I look at the woman I love.

“You know what it means.” She sighs and takes a step closer to me. “We’ve grown apart over the last year.”

“No, we haven’t.”

She shrugs. “You work all the time.”

I clench my fist at that. She knows I work to give her this life. To give her everything she wants. “Well, I need to be able to afford to keep you happy,” I snap.

“What?” she yells as her eyes go wide.

Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I sigh. “I didn’t mean that, Tiff.”

“No, you did mean it. You think I’m with you for your money. Just like your family is always saying behind my back. You think I don’t know, but I do, I hear it when they think I’m not listening.”

I rub my fingers between my eyes. “No. I don’t think that. And you know I don’t listen to whatever bullshit they say. I love you, Tiff! I thought you felt the same.”

“Obviously you don’t if you think I’m only with you for money.” Her eyes turn dark as she folds her arms over her chest. Her perfectly manicured nails drumming against the sleeves of the designer shirt she is wearing.

“I told you I didn’t… fuck, we are getting married next week,” I stammer.

“And I can’t do it.”

I feel the walls of this three-thousand-square-foot house closing in on me. “Why? Why not? This is your dream wedding. I’ve given you everything you’ve wanted.”

She purses her lips. “I told you we’ve grown apart. And you can’t just buy me things to make me happy, Carson. I need more.”

“That’s total bullshit. You know I don’t buy you shit to make you happy. I do what’s in my heart because I love you. Hell, two weeks ago, I took you away for a weekend to alleviate the wedding stress you felt. We spent the entire weekend between the sheets.”

She bites her lip. “I know. And it was great. It’s just what we have, it’s not enough.”

I take a step closer to her, trying to understand what the hell she is saying. “What do you mean? What am I not understanding here?”

“I don’t feel the spark we had. I-I don’t love you anymore,” she stutters as she drops her eyes to the floor.

I shake my head, frustration building. “No, I won’t accept that. There is something you aren’t telling me.”

She shakes her head as real tears start to fall. “I’m telling you the truth. Somewhere between us getting engaged and all the wedding planning, I realized I wasn’t happy.”

The cracks in my heart grow deeper, giant fissures pulling me in, drowning me. Despite everything my family says, I love this woman. I rush to her and fall to my knees. I’m not above begging for her. “Don’t do this to me, Tiffany. Please. I love you. I want to spend my life with you.”

She closes her eyes and pulls the three-carat diamond ring off her finger. “I wish I could say the same.”

“Tiff…” My words a plea.

She shakes her head and pulls out of my grasp. “I can’t. I can’t do this.” She presses the ring into my hand and presses a kiss on my cheek. “I wish things were different.”

I watch her in silence as she heads to the front door. She grabs the suitcase sitting there. The one I saw when I walked in the door tonight. The suitcase that made me know something was wrong. The suitcase that would shatter me.

I watch her as she places her hand on it and turns back to look at me one more time, sorrow on her face, and walks out of my house.

I don’t move. I just sit there on my knees, staring at the ring in my hand. My head a rampant river of emotion. Anger and heartache raging against every fiber of my being. I crush the ring into my palm as I clamp my hand into a fist. The woman I planned on spending my life with left me. The woman my family warned me about for the last three years. But I was stubborn, I never listened. Because in my heart, I felt something about Tiffany my family didn’t know about. I felt her soul intertwined with mine. Her heart beating the same rhythm as mine. I loved her. I fucking loved her.

I chuck the ring across the living room, not caring where the hell it lands or what happens to it. I twist my body and scream, letting the rage I was holding back rise to the surface. I smash my hand through the glass coffee table I hate that she insisted we buy. Just like half the stuff in this house. Her need to look a certain part, fit into a part of society I couldn’t care less about. But I loved her. Truly, deeply loved her, so I gave her everything she wanted. Maybe she was telling me the truth. Maybe it wasn’t enough. I could buy her everything she wanted, but my heart was never enough for her. My love wasn’t enough for her.

I smash my fist against the glass again and again until it looks just like my heart, ragged pieces of shattered glass haphazardly thrown across the floor. I curse when I finally feel the pain burning through my hand. Shards of glass sticking out of it like thorns. A fitting feeling to the way my heart feels.

I kick the table out of the way and head to the kitchen, blood dripping from my hand along the way. I pull open the cabinet and grab the scotch. Flicking the lid off and guzzling from the bottle as I collapse onto a chair. I stare at the glass in my hand as I let the rage simmer. I stare until I drink the entire bottle of scotch and pass out on the table.