Forget Me Not

Even if I do hate her.

“Not hate.” I can hear my therapist’s voice in my head, scolding me for the harshness of the word.

“Why are you so okay with this?” Bennett commands and I can hear the unspoken questions. Why are you okay with me having a girlfriend? Why aren’t you upset? Why aren’t you fighting for us?

“Trust me, I’m not. But…she gives you something I can’t, and I think you care for her on some level.” I bite my bottom lip.

“There’s no way I feel for her what I feel for you.” My brain, my heart, my soul, nothing misses the fact that he’s speaking in the present tense but I try to ignore it.

“I believe that.” I nod. “But she’s helping you get through…this.”

“Is that what the asshole out there is doing for you?” He nods towards the door and I swallow as I think about the man in the waiting room. I did not ask for him to come, why is he here?

“Alright, that’s enough of the lovefest,” Wren says as he comes back in with two other Doctors in tow. “We’re going to go down to run some tests, and then we can continue getting acquainted when you get back. How does that sound?” The sarcasm drips from his voice, especially as I know he caught the tail end of this conversation, but Bennett just stares at me.

“Are you staying?”

“Umm…” I start.

“There’s no need for her to stay, Bennett. I’m here. If she needs to leave, I won’t be going anywhere,” his mother interjects.

He doesn’t even look at her. “Are you staying?” he repeats. The pleading look in his eyes implores me to stay. To never leave his side again.

Fuck, this is too much.

I look at the four other people in the room all staring at me, waiting for my response. “Yeah, I can…I can stay.”

He nods and I can see the relief in his eyes and his body language. “Can you do me a favor?” He asks, his eyes trained on me. “Can you get rid of him? I’d rather not see him when they wheel me out of here.”

I bite down on my bottom lip and nod, preventing myself from mentioning that they’ve met before.

It was far from pretty.

I make my way out of the room, pressing a hand to my chest as I close the door behind me. It’s been a very taxing forty-five minutes and I feel like the air is fresher, less complicated outside of this room. I take a deep breath.

“Liv,” I hear my name, and I look up to see David Jacobs sitting on the bench outside of Bennett’s room.

David is kind and sweet and treats me like the very broken princess I am. He was a gentleman from the very first time he saw me crying into my hands and a box of Krispy Kreme’s in Central Park. He’d sat down next to me and slid a flask across the bench. We became friends instantly.

We’d been intimate, yes. But it was few and far between, always ended with me sobbing uncontrollably, and never in an orgasm for either of us. To be honest, I’m not sure why he still keeps me around. He’s gorgeous in a different way from Bennett. Blonde hair versus Bennett’s dark brown. Blue eyes versus his green. Closer to my height versus Bennett who towers over me at six foot five. He works for a non-profit organization, unlike Bennett who works for a real estate firm that basically rules New York.

He’s the opposite of my husband in every way.

I have a love-hate relationship with the sentiment.

He stands and begins walking towards me. I pull him down one hallway and another that ran perpendicular so that we’d be out of sight when they wheel Bennett towards the elevators. “What are you doing here?”

“You texted me—”

“Yes, but I didn’t ask you to come,” I whisper. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful when all he wanted was to be there for me, but I couldn’t handle David being here on top of everything going on with Bennett who I was legally still married to.

“I know, but I just wanted to be here for you. Are you hungry? Have you eaten anything?” He brushes my hair behind my shoulder and cups my cheeks gently before he attempts to kiss me, but I back away slightly.

“David, this isn’t the time or place. My mother-in-law is running around like a woman on a mission, and Bennett just woke up and I’m sorry…” I shake my head. “It’s just too much.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” he whispers as he pulls me into a hug. I reluctantly allow it because I think I need it. I press my face into his chest and cry for the inability to catch a break. I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally. A divorce will make you feel like you’ve just gone to war and I’m more than ready to wave the white flag of defeat.

I want it over.