Page 91 of Every Silent Lie

I wrench it out. “Leave me,” I snap, losing my footing and grabbing a nearby chair to steady myself.

When I’ve found my balance, although still terribly wobbly, I turn back around. She’s seen me too, and her face falling tells me she knows who I am. Whether from a picture or because I’m staring at them like I hate them, I don’t know. My ability to walk has left me again, and I stand here in the middle of the restaurant a blank, shaking mess of a woman wanting to scream.

But I can’t scream. I’m not “unreasonable.” I laugh on the inside, a sick, dark howl. I need to get out of here before I start throwing plates.

“Camryn,” Dec says, appearing in front of me, hands on my shoulders, hunkered down to get my eyes.

“My husband,” I say without thinking. It sounds wrong on my tongue. A nasty word spat out to be rid of it.

Dec pulls back, his face a map of lines, and looks over his shoulder. His shoulders lift from an inhale of realisation. “Okay, let’s get out of here.” Wrapping an arm around me, he puts me on the side farthest away from them and starts to walk me out, but we make it only two steps before I’m a statue again, Dec’s efforts to keep me moving futile.

“Camryn, come on, let’s go.”

My husband rakes a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. “Cam, I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

My eyes won’t leave the woman with him.

And her swollen, pregnant stomach.

“Fuck,” Dec breathes, his hold of me loosening, his focus on getting me out lost momentarily as he takes in what I’m looking at. Piecing it together. Getting a clearer picture.

She’s pregnant. Heavily pregnant. He’s moved on, and she’s pregnant. They’re going to have a child. Be a family.

I can’t have children.

“Dominic?” she says quietly, moving closer to him, her arm curling around her belly, as if she’s afraid I might try to harm their unborn child. How crazy do I look right now? How unhinged?

The lump in my throat wins, choking me, as my eyes burn with tears. I look at him. Hate the guilt and shame and sadness I see in eyes that aren’t familiar to me anymore. I shake my head ever so mildly, showing him my disbelief. My desolation. Suddenly, his urgency for the divorce makes complete and utter sense.

He needs me to help him hurriedly move on.

“Cam,” Dominic says softly.

“I don’t think you should be talking right now,” Dec says, his voice on the dangerous side of cool. “In fact, never speak to her again.” His arm lifts, a barrier between me and them. I push it down and walk out of the restaurant into the frigid air. I try to breathe but can’t seem to get air into my lungs.

Walk.

I need to walk.

I don’t know where to. Just away.

Far away.

* * *

Far away is a hotel bar. It’s not familiar to me. Not one where I’ve drank myself into false peace before. I walk in, aware of the looks I must be getting in a dress, no coat, my face a busy canvas of pain and anguish, my skin probably blue from the cold. I can’t feel it, if I’m cold. I can’t feel anything except the constant stabs to my heart. “Two dirty martinis,” I say to the bartender, sitting on the end stool. I look at the empty one next to me. I don’t have a coat to put there, no bag.

She’s pregnant.

I close my eyes and resist touching my stomach where I know the small scars to be. Two small incisions each side, just big enough to slip in the scissors that would cut my useless womb away so they could suck it out of me. I swallow hard, sniffing and roughly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

My drinks appear before me, and I slide the spare to the place next to me, ridding mine of the olive and knocking it back. “Another.” I place the glass down and tap the bar impatiently while she frowns at the untouched martini next to me. “Another,” I repeat, and she quickly gets to work, sliding it across. “I’ll do another,” I say, throwing my second back, waiting for the inevitable numbness to take hold. It doesn’t come. So I take a third. And a fourth.

“Enough.”

I still at the sound of Dec’s voice and turn to find him in a chair across the bar, sitting quietly, our coats draped across his lap, watching me trying to drink myself into a coma.

“Enough now, Camryn.”