Thank you, thank you, thank you. :3
40
- wide awake -
"So, when were you going to tell me you're having an affair with Edward?" my mom asks while we organize items for her garage sale tomorrow.
She asks it casually and calculated like she's thrilled to have this information before I could divulge it on my own. My instinct is to go inside her house, wake up Mikey from his nap, and leave. But I know I can't avoid this conversation forever.
I keep my head down, assuming Jared has told people after all. I guess that was inevitable. I'm a little more than pissed, though, that he felt the right to tell my mother without letting me do it first.
"I didn't want to tell you yet," I say honestly, dumping a bag of old clothes onto the folding table in the garage. "Also, it's over."
This is partially true. Edward and I aren't sneaking around anymore and aren't pursuing anything romantically while we navigate the next steps with our divorces. Despite the initial way we got together, we want to do things the right way for ourselves and our kids. And as ironic as it is, we want to do things the right way out of respect for Gianna and Jared.
Of course, all I want is to sleep next to Edward every night and kiss him every day and start our lives together. All I want is for us to pick up where we left off.
It's just a little more complicated than that.
I haven't seen Jared for over a week, since he left early the morning of our fight. He calls to talk to Mikey, who thinks he's out of town for work, but that's it. He doesn't tell me where he is or if anyone else knows what is going on between us. He merely barks "put him on the phone" when I answer, and I gladly do.
I'm not saying avoidance is healthy, but the space from him has been nice after how intense our last interaction was.
"Jared told you?" I guess, looking at my mom.
"Yes. But my friend Vera saw you and Edward last week at the park with the boys," she replies, her thin brows raised.
Oh.
"We took the boys to the park. That's not exactly scandalous," I say, clipped. I know I'm being defensive, but it frustrates me that she brought this to me first before I could mentally and emotionally prepare myself for this conversation.
She pulls out her phone and taps the screen, then shows me a shitty, zoomed-in photo of Edward and me hugging on the bench. She swipes and shows me another of us standing by our cars, his mouth on my cheek. She swipes once more, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to see the brief peck I placed on his cheek. I push the phone away before I can confirm this.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I blurt, outraged. "What the hell is this?"
"Proof," she tells me, but she doesn't look as happy about confronting me as I thought she would.
"Proof for what? Edward and I took the boys to the park and had a friendly conversation. That was nothing. And Jared already knows! I came clean. Delete that shit off your phone, please. It's weird and unnecessary, and I can't believe Vera would—"
"Don't blame my friend. I can't believe you would cheat on your husband! Poor Jared. I sent him the photos and he called me to let me know what you did, and—"
"Wait a fucking minute," I seethe. "So you went to Jared with this before you talked to me?"
"He has every right to know!" she insists. "Every right."
"I'm not saying he doesn't, but I'm your daughter," I remind her. "Those photos were nothing. Edward and I had already ended it by then. You're starting drama—"
"I'm not starting any drama, honey. You are. I wanted to make sure Jared wasn't blindsided the way—" she stops herself.
"What?"
She shakes her head and starts folding some clothes. "Nothing."
"Oh, now you want to keep your mouth shut?"
"Don't you dare speak to me that way," she snaps. "I am your mother."
"Then start acting like it!" I fume. "I know I fucked up. I know what I did was wrong, but I don't appreciate you getting involved in this or taking Jared's side."
"Of course, I'm going to get involved. I love Jared. You two have been together for ten years. You have a son together. A life. And you're throwing it all away for what—a fling with your neighbor?" she asks, disappointment dripping from her last five words.
I bite my tongue.
I refuse to let her know just how deep I am in this with Edward because she's not going to get it. She won't understand. She'd rather I stay in a miserable marriage than spend my days with someone who truly sees and loves and appreciates me.
"I hate that I hurt Jared, but people don't always get it right the first time," I tell her. "I'm not the first person to ever get divorced."
She looks stunned I'd use that word. "You made a commitment. You need to stick with it. Put in the effort to not let your marriage fail and become a statistic, Bella."
"Put in the effort, the way you and Dad did?" I unfairly ask. I know I'm shifting the spotlight, but if this is about not wanting Jared and me to end our marriage, she's being a hypocrite.
My mom falls silent and stops folding.
I know I overstepped, but so did she.
"I didn't want to divorce your father. I begged and pleaded and tried to change. Tried to keep him interested. Tried to keep him happy," she says quietly. "I told him I could get over the affairs. I could move past them, and I meant it, too. But he left us anyway."
Her words stop me cold. "What affairs?" I push, though I'm not even sure I entirely want to know.
"Your father cheated on me for years with multiple women, and I was blindsided and devastated when I found out."
The second she says it, so much shit adds up. So much shit that I'd repressed as a child. Their fights. His late nights. Days of him being gone and then coming back without any explanation. A sudden uncomfortable memory of him grabbing my friend's mom's ass during my seventh birthday party comes to mind, too.
"How did you find out?" I ask her, throat dry.
"I went to stick an updated insurance form in his glovebox and found condoms. When I asked him about it, he didn't even deny it. He ended up telling me more than I even wanted to know, but…" Her gaze grows distant. "But I was willing to overlook everything and try again. He didn't want to. He was done with me," she says simply, and though she looks sad, I can hear from her tone that with time and distance this no longer affects her the way it used to.
Stunned, I move to sit on a step stool. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Why would I? I wanted to shield you from it. Protect you. But now, you're going down the same path as your father, and I refuse to sit by and do nothing. Maybe if he had someone to talk some sense into him… maybe we'd still be a family."
My mood shifts and anger surfaces again. "Going down the same path?" I ask rhetorically. "I'm not having multiple affairs that have lasted years, Mom. It was less than a month. It was one man. It's Edward. I fucked up but I was honest with Jared. This is completely different, and if you can't see that I don't know what to tell you."
She holds my gaze. "You're caught up in it. It won't last. It never does. Why do you think your father is still alone?"
"It will last," I say, fiercely determined, because won't it? I know we'll make it work when Edward and I can finally be together. We operate differently than Jared and I do. We communicate. Listen. We respect each other and know exactly what we don't want out of a marriage.
Edward is the one for me and I know without a single fucking doubt I'm the one for him, too.
"What makes you think it will last, Bella?"
"Because we want it to" I defend. "Because we're in love."
She shakes her head in disappointment. "Did you forget Edward cheated on his wife with you? What makes you think he won't do it again?"
I just know it. I feel it in my bones. That thought or fear has never even crossed my mind because it's so fucking different with us. He's my best friend. We'd be companions and lovers and equals. There'd be no reason for either of us to ever stray.
"Don't you even want me to be happy?" I ask her.
"Yes, but not at the cost of Jared's unhappiness. He's like a son to me," she insists.
"He's barely ever around! And I've been alone for so long. I basically raise Mikey by myself. Not to mention—"
I abruptly stop talking when Jared's black BMW pulls into my mom's driveway.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask her accusingly. "You told him to come here?"
"Yes. You two need to talk and stop avoiding this," she says, not even appearing guilty before she goes inside the house.
I fume with anger toward my mother and stand as Jared gets out of his car. He's in a full suit meaning he left work to come here.
"Hey," he says, walking closer until we're a few feet away from each other.
He looks tired. Cheeks unshaven. His suit is unkempt and slightly wrinkled. I've never seen him look so undone; remorse sinks in knowing it's my doing.
"Hi," I mumble.
Silence.
It's awkward and stifling, and I don't know how we were ever around each other before without it always feeling like this.
"Your mom said you wanted to talk to me?" he prompts, looking expectant.
"What? Uh, no, I—" I stammer. "No. I mean, yeah, we do need to talk, but I didn't ask my mom to bring you here. I was unaware you were coming over."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Fucking Renee," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. "I knew it was too good to be true when she said you wanted to work this out."
More anger for my mother rises for giving him false hope.
I stare at a crack in the garage floor, how the concrete is split despite how solid it's meant to be.
"Where have you been staying?" I ask, looking at his face now, noting how similar his brooding pout is to our son's when he's upset.
"In a hotel."
"Oh. I thought you might be with your parents."
"Oddly enough, I don't want anyone to know about this yet," he says flatly. "Although people at work have picked up on my mood. Someone asked if there was a death in the family, and I said yes. Fucking feels like that anyway…"
"Yeah." He's not wrong. There is an impending sense of loss present, I can admit that.
"So, you're still seeing Edward?" he asks bluntly, an edge to his tone.
"No."
"Your mom texted me those pictures of the two of you," he admits. "Please don't tell me that all this time you used playdates with the boys, so you two could fuck?"
I glare, but I know he has every right to ask. I probably would assume the same thing, too. "No. We would never do that."
"Glad you have some self-respect," he quips. "I can't say the same for Edward. Is he so entitled he thinks he can just waltz into my life and take my place?"
"That's not what he's doing," I insist. "That's not happening. You'll always be Mikey's dad…"
"Gee, thanks, Bella. I appreciate that," he snaps, then catches himself and takes a deep breath. "The other week you said you didn't want to be married to me anymore," he mutters. "That you fucking love him. How is he not trying to take my place?"
"Jared…"
"What?"
I stare at the garage floor again, wishing the crack would widen and engulf me.
"You don't even want to try, do you?" he pushes.
"Try for what? Are you telling me we had a good marriage?" I ask rhetorically. "Even if Edward and I never met, I don't think you and I were ultimately good together," I whisper, scared to admit the words aloud. "I don't think our marriage would've survived."
He glares. "How can you say that?"
"Because that's how I feel," I admit. "And you said something similar to me. You wanted to have another baby because you didn't think our marriage would last."
"That's different. I said that because I was pissed. I didn't mean it."
He's lying, I know he is. "Okay, well. I'm sorry but I do mean it."
His jaw tightens. "So, you never fucking loved me. Really? I don't believe that for one second."
My eyes fill with tears. "I'm not saying that. I did love you, and I still care about you. But I think I was so swept up in the idea of having a real family after mine was so fucked up. And you were so…" I pause. "You were normal, stable, and you chose me. I liked that. I loved your parents and the way they included me in things, even early on. But something in you—and me—changed. We've talked about this before—many times. I told you how alone I felt after you started at the firm. How your priorities shifted—"
"Just because I had goals doesn't mean you weren't a fucking priority!" he shouts, and I flinch, stepping back. His face falls at my reaction, likely remembering how out of control he was the other night.
His eyes dart to my arm, and even if the bruises have faded a little, whatever yellowing marks he sees there now makes him clench his eyes shut in regret. When they open a beat later, he apologizes.
"Look. I'm sorry for hurting you, Bella." He whispers it and shifts closer. "I am. I shouldn't have grabbed you, but… I was losing my goddamn mind. I'm losing you, how do you expect me to not fight?" he asks.
"I don't… I don't know." I don't know what to say or think right now. I just want him to go. I need more time. I need to schedule a therapy appointment and be given tools to communicate more effectively and to stand up to him more easily. Because I do want a divorce. I just worry he's going to somehow guilt or bully me into staying. I worry he's going to find things to use against me... like Mikey.
Jared scrubs a hand over his mouth. "I'm just upset, okay? My life is being turned upside down. But as much as I don't want to admit it…" He stalls, and I have no idea what he's about to confess. "I know I'm to blame for some of this, too," he confesses, voice strained.
"Really?" I ask, stunned.
"Yes, really," he says, sounding sincere. "I didn't even truly know you were unhappy."
"But… I told you," I sniffle, and the tears that were welling in my eyes spill over now.
"Yeah, and I heard you, but I don't think I listened. I can admit that. Why would I want to believe I couldn't give you everything you wanted?"
"All I wanted was you, though," I cry. "I didn't need anything else."
His brown eyes soften with his own emotion. "I feel like you didn't give me a chance. If you told me you were that unhappy… that you were falling for someone else, I would've tried. I could have changed. I could've… but you just… you're taking all of this away from me without giving me a chance to fix it."
"I feel like I did, though. Even before Edward, I gave you time. Years. But nothing changed. Not permanently anyway."
He moves closer, standing within reaching distance. "So I'm being punished because I took too long?" he asks, but I don't answer. "After the argument we had about having more kids, I tried to change. I rearranged my schedule. Helped with Mikey when I could. I was home more. But you were so fucking checked out by that point."
Because I was already in love with Edward.
I don't have to say it. Jared knows. He can see it written on my face, the same way he saw it on my face the day I tried to protect Edward from getting punched again.
My stomach twists with agony. I feel sick with guilt and grief, and my mind is on what my mom told me about Charlie. How she wanted to make it work, and he was so done.
But this is not the same. It's not. I have to remind myself of that. Charlie didn't leave Renee because he fell in love with someone else. He wanted freedom. He didn't want anything close to resembling the life he once had.
My chin trembles when I say, "I'm sorry, Jared. I hate that I hurt you. I hate that I did this to us. I'm just... sorry."
He scoffs, just barely, but it's laced with sadness, not anger. "You're sorry," he deadpans. "After ten years of being together… six years of marriage… you're sorry?"
I nod, tears falling down my cheeks. I don't know what else I can say. "Yes."
He turns away from me and paces then spins back. "I love you, and I'll do whatever you want me to do, Bella. We can go to therapy like you wanted. I'll cut my hours where I can. I don't need another kid," he lists off sounding panicked, and I just cry harder, because if this were a year or two ago… maybe? Maybe we could have made it work or bought ourselves a little more time. If Jared tried harder back then, back when I brought our issues to light, I think I could've focused on us and tried to stick it out. But it would've only been delaying the inevitable because we're not truly compatible. And I don't know how I convinced myself for so long that we were.
"Stop crying. Please… stop," Jared whispers.
"I can't," I sniffle, covering my face, my shoulders shaking.
I feel hands then strong arms. He wraps me into a hug, and I let him. I even hug him back, my face buried against his chest. For a second, his comfort feels good. Then I realize he's not giving comfort, he's seeking it. He holds onto me, breathing out into my hair, saying my name and how much he loves me.
"Fucking… stop crying. Please," he begs.
"Why?" I ask, voice muffled against his suit jacket. After a beat, I pull back to look up at him, my eyes wet, and my face hot and sticky.
His voice breaks when he says, "Because you're making me feel like this is actually over. And I don't think I can fucking take that."
His eyes shine with tears, which makes me lose it even more.
He holds me tighter.
Too tightly. Too desperately.
Like he can prove his love for me by hugging me as tightly as he can. Like he can make me change my mind.
"I'm just not happy," I mumble, pulling out of his grip and stepping back. "Deep down I know you're not either. You had this idea of us. This expectation of me. And I tried to be that, but I just... can't anymore. You deserve more, too, Jared. You do. Someone who truly gets you and makes you happy and—"
"I don't want more, I want you."
I wipe my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm… I am sorry. Even if we tried, it won't be the same. It can't be. I can't go back." I'm not the same person after Edward. I don't want to go back. It's unfair and messy, and I'm a shitty person, but it's honest. I can be an honest person from now on. I can.
"You want a divorce?" he says flatly. "That's it, you're done?"
I just nod, inhaling a shaky breath.
He looks away and wipes his eyes. "And you're actually in love with Edward."
"Yes," I say, quiet but firm.
His jaw tenses. "Like… you're fucking leaving me for him?"
"No. No, we will take time apart and deal with everything but…"
Eventually.
One day.
Jared holds my gaze.
I breathe.
And breathe.
I don't know what makes his eyes drift down to my left hand, but they do. I brace myself for his anger and for when he finds my hand is bare.
No ring.
Nothing.
Fury flares.
His entire demeanor flips a switch from heartbroken to infuriated.
But I don't blame him.
He rips off his gold band and throws it at me. It hits my chest, then falls and rolls somewhere in the garage.
I don't go after it.
Neither does he.
He gives me one last look. It's equal parts disgusted and dejected.
Before he stalks back to his car, he spits, "I fucking hate you."
And I don't blame him for that, either.