Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

“I get that.” My mom had months of the year where she was essentially a single parent, raising all five of us on her own while Daddy played in the pros. But even when he was away, he always praised her. When he was home, he loved up on her constantly. We knew she was pretty spectacular in his eyes, and as a result, she was spectacular in our eyes too.

Sounds like Stevie’s mom didn’t have that kind of support.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t be like her. Yet I still fell into that familiar pattern of putting everyone else first, especially after I got married. I was good. I was a helper. I made myself as small as possible so my husband could take up all the space he wanted. I was doing the good wife thing right.”

“But you were miserable.”

She nods, the sinews of her throat working as she swallows. “Overwhelmed too. Constantly burned out. It didn’t help that my professional wins made Dan insecure. I tried to fix that. Tried to make that smaller. My career ended up suffering, and so did my friendships. He was controlling in many ways—I mean, the guy refused to sign the divorce papers for years. It took three years of separation to finally get him to do it. He said he ‘wanted to take care of me,’ that he wanted to make sure I was safe, but really, he just wanted me to set my life aside for him. When we were together, I felt like I was nothing. No one. Like I didn’t matter. I was so, so lonely, Hank, I can’t even begin to tell you.”

I curl my hand around hers. “Holy shit. You weren’t joking when you said things really fell apart.”

“It was a disaster. But I didn’t get it. Here I was, doing what I was told good women do, but I was unhappy and so was he. At thirty-six, I always thought I’d know who I was and what I wanted, but I was lost. Our sex life was nonexistent at that point. He wanted kids, but I knew from talking to my girlfriends that adding a baby to the mix would just . . . yeah, I knew I’d drown. We tried therapy, but nothing changed. So I left.”

“I’m really sorry, Stevie.”

She swallows again, looking up at me. “I’m sorry I had to go through a divorce to learn what I know now. I never meant to hurt anyone. But I learned I want nothing to do with the demands that come with commitment. I just—” She glances out over the mountains. “Marriage turns me into this, like, fembot Stepford wife version of myself. A Stepford wife who’s simmering with rage and resentment because she has to take care of a man who never, ever meets her halfway.” She squeezes my hand.

The punch lands with devastating force. I see.

I see what her because means.

“This is going to sound like a piece of white male privilege garbage,” I begin.

Stevie scoffs, catching a tear in the crook of her first finger. “Try me.”

“But I’d never thought about marriage that way. Not as a happy ending, but as a cage.”

It’s her turn to nod. “I know that’s not the case for everyone. Some of my friends have genuinely great marriages. Others . . . don’t.”

“Right.” I press my lips together. “And that’s not a gamble you’re willing to make.”

Her watery eyes meet mine. They’re puffy and tired.

“Can I play devil’s advocate for a sec?” I ask.

“Go for it.”

“What if I said I was different from your ex?” I manage a tight smile. “I think I’ve proven I clean up after myself.”

She searches my face. “What if I said I believe you’re different, but I might not be if we were to . . . you know, get serious? I’ve changed, sure. I’ve done a lot of work on myself, but old habits die hard. The demands put on women to be everyone’s perfect everything still exist. I’m not going back there, Hank. I’m not risking what I’ve built. My life is full, and I don’t feel like I’m missing anything. I’m sorry.”

I’m gripped, hard, by the need to take care of her. Not so I can make her stay and convince her that I’m not her ex, that I’m not a lazy piece of shit, that I’m not stuck on marriage so much as sharing a beautiful life with someone I love.

I want to take care of her because it’s the right thing to do.

“Being single is great.” I talk slowly again, choosing my words with care. “Did you not see me in Vegas? I’ve had the time of my fucking life. But it can be hard too. Just like I imagine being married can be hard.”

“It’s definitely a give and take.”