I was starting a business with Ryan, which was a stupid ‘fuck you’ to my dad, even stupider since Samantha worked at his firm. It was a spot he wanted me to fill, but, really, she was so much more qualified, and she did so much better than I would have. We were both so busy, working so many hours, that it seemed normal for her to come home late, or spend the weekends catching up with her friends, or to make excuses for why she didn't want to, you know…”
“Luke.”
“Then one day, we're having dinner, and I ask about the wedding, if she wants to set a date. She starts crying, really bawling, and she tells me she's having an affair.”
“Jesus.”
“It gets better,” he says. “She was fucking my father. Had been fucking him for years, even before I asked her to marry me. And she loved him, she loved him so much, in a way she'd never loved me. She gave me all that cliché bullshit about how she didn't mean to hurt me, but she was fucking my father.”
He tries to hide the pained look on his face, but I can see it. Is that what I'm going to do to Ryan if I confess? Is that what I'm going to do to Ryan if I leave him? Am I any better than this woman who broke Luke's heart?
“And, even though she wasn't sure he'd have her, she had to leave me and take that chance. Poor girl had no idea what an asshole he is. He wouldn't risk his reputation to be with her, even though he'd been a widower for years. It wouldn't look good, a Senior Partner with an associate. She offered to leave the firm, but he wouldn't do it.”
The tea timer dings and Luke takes the excuse to pour us two cups. He spoons honey into each.
“I was too pathetic to end things with her. I knew she didn't love me, that I was a second choice, and not even a close second, but I still wanted to be with her. Then, my father got sick. Lung cancer—the idiot smoked a pack a day for years. It was already Stage 4. He didn't make it much longer.”
He takes a long sip of his tea, stirring his spoon mindlessly.
“She was so sad after he died, and every time I saw how sad she was, I felt like she was stabbing me in the heart. She was broken up over this asshole who rejected her for his reputation. And the asshole was the same asshole I'd hated my entire life.”
“Luke,” I say. “Are you with her or not?”
“Let me finish,” he says. “The point is—I knew something was wrong, really wrong. I knew it was more than grief over her ex-lover's death. But I was angry and jealous, and I was upset about my dad's death, too. I had more right to be upset than she did. He's my fucking dad.”
He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes turning towards the sunny day outside. “I was practically ignoring her,” he continues. “I wanted space, but I wanted her to love me, and I wouldn't give her any room to get over it. I worked all the time. I couldn't sleep. I got this prescription for heavy duty sleeping pills, and they worked, but they gave me nightmares, so I stopped taking them.”
“Luke—”
“I'm not telling you all this so you feel sorry for me. I want you to understand why I failed her. She needed me. It wasn't in the way I wanted her to need me, but she needed me, and I ignored it. She was so sad, so much sadder than normal. She even started calling in sick to work. I knew, but I didn't…”
He shakes his head, his eyes on the floor. “I left my bottle on the bedside table. It's not like I did it on purpose, not exactly…But I left it right there, right where she'd look, where it would be so easy for her. I knew I should’ve hidden them or locked them in a drawer, but I didn't think she would…I hoped she wouldn't.
“Then, one day, it was a Friday, I think… I get this call from the hospital. Some doctor tells me she's in the ER. Samantha had swallowed my bottle of sleeping pills. I don't even know who found her. They pumped her stomach. She was okay. She lived. There was this note by her bed, our bed. Everything you'd expect.”
I feel my heart in my throat.
“That was only a month ago,” he says. “She's still in the hospital.”
All the air leaves my lungs. I try to move my fingers, but I can't feel any part of my body. I can't feel anything. Luke's fiancée tried to kill herself a month ago. He left out his bottle of sleeping pills. He left them there for her. He must have known…
How is this possible?
“You're still engaged.”
“Technically, we never broke up,” he says.
“Technically?”
“It's been over for a long time. We both know it's over.”
“No, you're engaged. There's no over. There's engaged or not engaged.”
“You're engaged,” he says.
“But you knew that. You knew I was engaged and you decided to go ahead.”
“You're right,” he says. “I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I didn't think…”