Page 77 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“Okay, Alex.” She finds some resolve. “I hope you’re happy together.” Is she fucking clueless? Fat chance of that now.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” I say under my breath. “Are you going to tell Damian?” She shakes her head no. That would be her burden to carry. Fuck both of them.But fuck her especially.

“I have to go.” I take a step back. And I see the heartbreak in her eyes. It wasn’t going to be our time. It never would.

I don’t wait for her to leave first; I just turn around, walking back to our side of the path, calling out for Delta who comes running.

I love Emma. I really do. She’s the best person I know.

I just also love Jess…even against my own will.

I stare at the text messages.Have I told you you’re the best husband lately? Because you are.I’m not. I’m the fucking worst. I lean back against the couch, letting my head fall back as I debate: What to say? How to say it? Do I wait till she’s home?

A

How was it?

She should be back at the hotel by now. Three little dots appear before disappearing, only to return a minute later.

Em

Not what I was expecting.

My stomach turns.

In a good way or a bad way?

It wasn’t good. It’s been a horrible day. Can you talk on the phone? Or are you at your sister’s?

I panic. Nausea and disgust with myself are the only prevailing feelings I have. I can’t do it; she’ll be able to hear it in my voice.

In the middle of something, but if you really need, I can pause.

No, that’s okay. Tell everyone I said hi.

I love you, Emma.

I love you, too.

I’m going to hell. Straight to hell.

I don’t end up flying to Las Vegas to meet my wife. I don’t drive there either. The Friday after Thanksgiving, I pick her up from the airport.

She walks out of the secure area and into baggage claim, a soft smile planted on her face as she looks around for me. She looks tired but happy to be here.

But her smile falls when her eyes land on me. I hadn’t slept in two days. I hardly ate. I wanted to punish myself. And now, all I want is to fall at her feet and beg.

Instead, the second she’s close enough, I wrap her up in my arms wordlessly.Would this be the last time I get to hold her?Tears leak out as we embrace, holding her tight against me, one palm on the back of her head, the other on her hip.

“What happened?” she asks hoarsely.

I nod, not able to form the words.

Her hands tremble as she adjusts her backpack, then she picks up the handle of her carry-on she’d dropped seconds earlier. I offer to carry her bags for her, but she declines.

The gut feeling howls.

We walk to the car, both of us looking like death. Probably feeling like it, too.