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Chapter twenty-three

Patrick

She loves me.

Fuck.

She loves me.

The words won’t leave my head. They’re everywhere, bouncing off the inside of my skull, thudding like a second heartbeat.

She loves me.

It keeps replaying in my mind. The way her voice cracked, the look in her eyes, the way she meant it.

After all this time, the quiet holding back, the times I said it in my mind every time I touched her—those three little words are finally ours.

No more swallowing them down, hiding them beneath my teeth, pretending they weren’t burning a hole in my chest.

They’re mine now.

And I’ll say them every chance I get, so she never even has a chance to second guess them.

I love you, Levana.

I can whisper it into her hair, murmur it into her skin, say it into her mouth while she’s gasping under me.

I’m so full I could burst. Like my ribs can’t hold it in, like my skin’s stretched too tight to contain it.

She said it back.

My fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, soaking in the heat of her skin.

My cheeks ache from smiling. I could stay like this forever.

But not yet. I need to tell Mara.

I slide out from under the blankets as carefully as I can, easing my arm out from beneath her without waking her up.

The door groans faintly on its hinges as I pull it closed, and I wince, freezing in place for a second, waiting to see if Levana stirs.

Nothing.

I make my way down the hallway toward the back bedroom.

The doors unlocked— again.

Of course it is.

I step inside and pull it shut behind me with a near silent click.

Mara’s slumped awkwardly in the armchair, head tilted to one side, chin resting against her chest.

“Mara…” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her face.

No response.

I stroke her hair again, slower this time, fingers dragging lightly against her scalp.

“Mara.”

Nothing.

“Mara,” I say again, closer to her ear.

Her eyelids flicker, then flutter open slowly. She squints toward the window. The blinds are drawn, but the night still seeps through the cracks in slivers of cold blue and grey.

“Are you fucking serious, Patrick?” She groans. “It’s the middle of the night. Leave me alone.”

I can’t help but smile. She’s never been a night owl—never wakes up happy, especially not when I’m the one doing the waking.

She levels me with narrowed eyes and a completely straight mouth.

I lift my hands. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

She sighs and drops her head back against the chair. “What do you want?”

The words just tumble out in a flurry of excitement and eagerness. “She said it. She actually said it,” I laugh, shaking my head. “And she meant it. Shit, Mara, she actually meant—“

“Nope. Too much. Too fast,” Mara cuts in, lifting a hand. “Can we just stop a minute?” She gestures towards me, “Move.”

I step back as she stretches out her legs, letting out a long yawn. She shifts upright, rubbing her eyes, then adjusts herself.

Finally, she looks up at me, giving me a silent ‘ go on.’

“She loves me,” I whisper, like I can’t believe it myself. “She loves me, Mara… she said it back.”

She lets out a heavy breath. “I know.”

“What?”

“I heard,” she says, jaw tight.

My stomach flips. “What do you mean?”

“When you were fucking her.”

The words hit like a sharp slap to the face, and I open my mouth to respond, but she doesn’t let me.

“On the couch,” she snaps. “That couch. The one we bought when I told you I was pregnant with Alexander.”

My mouth dries up completely.

“The one you almost passed out on when I told you the treatments worked, and I was pregnant again, remember that? You cried, Patrick. You cried and you told me you were so happy our family was growing.”

My chest tightens. I can barely meet her eyes.

“The one my cousin spilled wine on, and you lost your mind trying to clean it before the baby shower. The one we slept on for two weeks when my parents needed somewhere to stay, so we gave them our bed.”

Her voice cracks, sharp and hot with fury.

“You fucked her on that couch. You made her moan your damn name and tell you she loves you into the cushions we picked out together.”

Shame blooms in my chest, twining its way around every single rib.

“Do you even care?” She spits. “Do you even give a fuck that I’m sitting here, listening to the man I married fall apart into someone else’s body?”

My mouth opens too fast. “You were on board with it. And I told you go to your parents’ house with the kids to wait this part out.”

Her eyes flash with rage. “Yeah, I was. And I know you did. I wanted all of this too. But now I’m hiding in my own house like a dirty secret, having to sneak to the damn bathroom when she’s asleep, living off snacks, while you get to have all this…” she gestures all around her. “… fun. You get the girl, the sex, the declarations of love—while I sleep in a chair and have to keep my mouth shut all day.”

The words hit so fucking hard my chest caves.

I feel it in my throat before it reaches my eyes. That thick, awful pressure that swells behind your bones and creeps up your neck.

I blink fast, trying to stop them in their tracks.

But it’s too late.

Tears are burning, blurring my vision.

I swipe at them quickly, like that’ll somehow make it less pathetic. But more keep coming, spilling over before I can hold them back

Mara takes in a sharp inhale, like she’s not sure whether to keep going or stop.

But I’m already falling apart, quiet and miserable, hands dragging down my face like I could somehow wipe all of this off—the guilt, the grief, the shame.

“Patrick,” she says. “I’m sorry. This is just… it’s so stressful.”

“I know,” I whisper, wiping at my face again. “I know it is. I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to—”

She steps forward and wraps her arms around my waist. She’s so short she barely reaches my sternum, but she clings to me like she’s holding me up and it guts me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I wrap my arms around her, gripping the back of her head.

“Me too. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just—” she sighs into my chest, “—I’m tired, Patrick. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

I pull back just enough to see her face. “What?”

She won’t meet my eyes.

“It’s too much,” she says softly. “All of it. And I don’t think it’s worth it.”

My chest tightens. Heat spikes in my gut. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah,” she says, lifting her eyes to mine. “I’m deadly serious.”

“You take that back. Right now.”

“No, Patrick. I won’t.”

“I can’t believe you’d say something like that. You’re heartless.”

“I’m heartless?” she snaps.

I clench my jaw, stepping back.

“You want to give up? Fine. But not yet.” I swipe at the last of the tears drying on my cheeks. “Give me a little more time. Just a few days to figure things out.”

She stares at me, for a minute, jaw twitching. Then sighs. “Fine.”

I nod, already turning for the door. My hand’s on the knob when I pause, glancing back at her. “And lock the damn door this time.”

When I’m out of the room, my spine presses against the wood and a second later, the lock clicks into place.

The breath spills out of me, heavy and long like it’s dragging my soul out with it.

A flicker of light at the end of the hallway catches at the edge of my vision.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” I jolt, hand shooting to the wall to steady myself, pulse skidding sideways. “What the hell?!”

My eyes struggle to focus without my glasses.

Oh, fuck.

It’s Levana. She’s standing just outside the bathroom, arms hugged to her chest, eyes wide and startled. Her whole body’s tense like she’s bracing for impact.

“What are you doing?” I snap.

“I went to the bathroom,” she says quietly. She’s deep-breathing now, trying to calm herself.

More guilt sears through me.

She was just going to the bathroom. And I scared her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Shit,” I breathe. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Her eyes flick toward the door Mara’s behind, then back to me.

“What’s going on?” She asks softly.

I don’t answer. I just walk down the hall and pull her in, wrapping my arms around her.

My eyes sting again.

I blink hard, pressing my face to the top of her head, breathing her in.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I love her. I love her so much.

She loves me.

I fought so fucking hard for this. For her. For us.

Everything I’ve done—every lie, every risk—all of it was to get here. Right here.

But now it’s slipping.

Mara doesn’t want this anymore.

She’s done.

And if she’s done… then none of this works.

We’re never going to be okay.

Nothing’s ever going to get fixed.

The future’s just going to be nothing but broken void filled with aching misery.

I sniff hard, trying to swallow it all down before it breaks the surface again.

Her arms tighten around me and she starts rubbing slow circles along my back.

“Patrick,” she murmurs against my chest. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I can’t. I can’t tell her a fucking thing.

So I bypass it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She shifts slightly under my arms. “It’s okay.”

I pull back just enough to look at her. “Come back to bed with me?”