“I don’t see having children with you as a mistake, Maggie. Our children are the best things to ever happen to me. You have been the best thing that has ever happened to me.” She lets out a laugh that is stilted and holds no humor whatsoever—just disbelief. “I’m serious,” I tell her, wanting her to believe that no matter how angry I am.
“I know. That’s what hurts the most.”
I let out a breath of equal parts exasperation and frustration. I’m standing naked in the middle of the woods arguing with a woman who I love more than anything in the world but is driving me mad.
“Let’s get to the truck. I’d rather not discuss this shit while having my dick waving out in the open,” I grumble. This time when I tug on her hand, she follows me.
“How you can be hard out here at a time like this, I have no idea,” she mutters, her head down, looking at her feet as she walks.”
“It’s just a natural instinct when you’re around, I guess. It happens without thought, just like breathing.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be the one to tell you, but your air is poisoned, Bryant.”
I can see the truck in the distance, and I bite my tongue until we get to it. I unlock the doors and get her inside, slamming the passenger door a little harder than I should. I’ve calmed down, but I can’t let go of the frustration. Then, I go to my side. The minute I get in, I reach around back, praying I have some kind of clothes. Unfortunately, all I can find is a jacket. I grab it and spread it over my lap.
“You want to have this out, we’ll do it back at the cabin. You have to be in Dallas in the morning, I’ll take you,” I announce, starting the truck.
“So you just get to decide? I don’t have a say in it? What if I don’t want you to go to Dallas with me, Bryant?”
“I would say tough shit,” I shrug, shoving the truck into gear and aiming it toward the main road.
“I can’t have this conversation with you when you have a tent pole under your jacket,” she mutters, looking out the window.
“I’ll let you take care of it first before we have our talk if you want,” I tell her, just to piss her off.
“That’s so nice of you.”
“That’s me, baby. Mr. Nice Guy.”
She lets out an annoyed breath but doesn’t say anything else. I let her have her silence.
30
Maggie
Pulling back up beside the cabin leaves this sick feeling in my stomach. I know the time has come. There’s no point in holding back any longer. I force myself to turn and look at Bryant.
“Why is your face red?”
“Allergic reaction, I’m guessing,” he says calmly, but his voice is still tight.
“To what?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. I let out a sigh. “You need to let me go, Bryant,” I tell him, letting my guilt leak through my words, unable to even try and keep up any of my walls now.
“What the fuck, Maggie? Do you care for me at all, damn it?” he growls, slapping his hand against the steering wheel.
“Of course I do! I love you.”
“Well, it sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it. I’d walk through the fires of Hell just to keep you, woman. Fuck, I have walked through them. I’ve twisted and turned myself in knots for years to keep you in my life. Yet, every time I turn around, you keep trying to give me away!”
“I never asked you to do that, Bryant! I didn’t want that. You deserve better than me!”
“Bullshit. Come on, Maggie. If you are going to end us, then just fucking tell me why.”
“Because you don’t even know me, Bryant,” I cry. “You’re in love with a woman who doesn’t exist!”
“Sure looks like you’re real to me, Maggie.”
“Will you stop being so obstinate? You don’t know me. You don’t see what a mess I am.”
“God, Maggie. You love me. We fuck more than most people who live in the same house. We have been faithful to one another despite all the bullshit. We—”
“I lied to you!”
“About what? Is this about this asshole in Dallas, Maggie?”
“You don’t understand,” I whimper, fear clawing at the inside of me. If I go through with this, it’s well and truly over. Despite what I’m telling Bryant, that’s not what I want—not at all. It’s what I need to do, though. It’s what I should have done years ago.
“Then make me understand for Christ’s sake.”
I feel claustrophobic. I can’t breathe. My heart is slamming against my chest and a fine sheen of perspiration is coating my skin. I get out of the truck, unable to stay in there anymore. I don’t even realize I’m crying, but I am.