Page 20 of The Words of Us (Infinite Tenderness #5)

19

EVIE

I haven’t been able to shake the hollow feeling that’s been gnawing at me since last night. The bookstore is supposed to be my sanctuary, but this morning, it feels more like a prison. I’ve been here for hours already, but I can’t remember a single thing I’ve done. There’s a pile of books to shelve, but they just sit in a messy stack by the counter. My hands move automatically, straightening things here and there, but nothing feels real. Not after last night. Not after what he said.

I keep replaying his words in my head, over and over. I’m her husband. It’s like a hammer, each repetition driving a nail deeper into my heart. How could she not tell me? How could she keep something like that hidden from me? I didn’t even know she was bisexual. Or straight? Or whatever she identifies as. Am I her first relationship with a woman?

Not that it matters, really. But I thought I knew her. I knew she had secrets, sure, and I never wanted to pry. But I never ever suspected a husband.

I glance around the store, trying to focus on the familiar surroundings, hoping the comfort of these walls will pull me out of this fog. The smell of old paper, the quiet murmur of the city outside—it’s usually enough to settle me, to remind me that everything will be okay. But today, it feels distant, like I’m disconnected from the life I’ve built here.

The bell above the door rings, breaking the silence. I look up and see Kenneth strolling in, his usual bright smile in place as he waves at me from across the store. He’s carrying two cups of coffee, and the sight of him with those ridiculous pink-framed glasses perched on his nose makes me want to cry for some reason.

“Morning, boss,” he says cheerfully, crossing the room in a few long strides. “I brought caffeine. Figured you might need it after staying late last night.”

I manage a weak smile, though it feels more like a grimace. “Thanks, Kenneth. I...I do need it.” My voice sounds fragile, thin.

He sets the coffee down in front of me and leans against the counter, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. “Okay, what’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. And I mean more than the usual ‘I’m running a bookstore and never have time to rest’ look.”

I laugh, but it’s humorless, barely a sound. “I didn’t sleep much, no.”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to say more, but I can’t. Not yet. The words are stuck, lodged somewhere between my chest and my throat. I take a long sip of the coffee, hoping the warmth will soothe the ache inside me, but it doesn’t.

Kenneth doesn’t move, just stays there, leaning on the counter like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s not the pushy type, but he knows when something’s wrong. It’s one of the reasons I hired him. He’s good with people, good with me.

“Evie,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “What’s going on? You’ve got that look like you’re about to either break down or throw a book at someone’s head.”

I exhale sharply, setting the cup down with a thud. “It’s Sasha.”

Kenneth’s expression shifts, his teasing smile fading as concern takes over. “What happened? Did you guys have a fight?”

I shake my head, feeling the sting of tears at the edges of my vision. “No, not exactly. She...she’s been hiding something from me. Something big.”

He straightens, folding his arms across his chest as he listens, giving me the space to find the words.

“She is married,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “She never told me. Her husband—ex-husband, whatever he is—he showed up last night. At the restaurant. And he told me.”

Kenneth’s eyes widens. “Wait, what? Sasha’s married?”

“I mean I don’t think they are still together. She spends all her time with me. But clearly they were,” I say, feeling the bitterness creep into my voice. “She didn’t bother to tell me that part. He just dropped it like a bomb, right in front of me. And she just stood there, like...like she was waiting for the world to fall apart.”

Kenneth runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process what I’ve just told him. “Damn, Evie. That’s a lot.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, it is. And I don’t know what to do with it. I feel like I don’t even know her. Like everything we’ve had is built on a lie.”

He reaches out, placing a hand on mine. “You deserve honesty, Evie. You deserve someone who’s upfront with you from the start. This sounds like a huge betrayal.”

I feel a tear slip down my cheek before I can stop it. “I just don’t understand why she didn’t tell me. I gave her so many chances to open up, to trust me. And now, after everything, I don’t know if I can trust her at all.”

Kenneth squeezes my hand, his eyes full of empathy. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do here. But maybe she was scared. I mean, hiding something that big...she must have been terrified of what it would do to your relationship.”

I laugh bitterly, wiping at my eyes. “Well, it’s done plenty. She’s gone now, and I’m left here, trying to figure out what the hell is real anymore.”

He lets out a long breath, giving me a look that’s both compassionate and firm. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Take some time, Evie. Let yourself feel everything, and then decide what you want. You deserve to take the time you need to process this.”

I nod, but the weight of his words only seems to press down harder on me. “I’m scared, Kenneth. I’m scared that I’ll never be able to look at her the same way again. And I don’t want to lose her, but...I don’t know if I can forgive this.”

Kenneth is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is soft but steady. “Whatever happens, just remember that you deserve someone who is honest with you. You don’t have to settle for less, even if it hurts to let go.”

I bite my lip, blinking back more tears. “I know. I just... I thought we had something real.”

He squeezes my hand one last time before letting go. “Maybe you still do, but that’s for you to figure out. And you don’t have to figure it out today.”

I nod, feeling a little lighter now that I’ve said it all out loud. The tightness in my chest hasn’t disappeared, but at least I’m not carrying it alone anymore.

“I’m going to shelve some books,” I say, needing to distract myself for a little while.

Kenneth gives me a reassuring smile. “I’ll take over the counter for a bit. Take your time.”

I find myself back in the poetry section. It’s where Sasha and I spent so many evenings curled up with books, sharing quiet moments that felt like they were ours alone. Now it feels different. Every corner of the store is filled with her, with memories that I’m not sure I can trust anymore.

I glance at the stack of notebooks on one of the tables, the ones Sasha left here. Her poetry. Her words.

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the cover of the top notebook. Part of me doesn’t want to read it. What if the words feel hollow now? What if everything she wrote was as much a lie as the life she kept hidden from me?

But then I pick it up, unable to help myself. I open to the first page, my eyes scanning the familiar lines of her handwriting. It’s a poem I’ve read before, one she shared with me the night we first kissed. It’s about love, about trust, about building something beautiful out of fragile moments.

We build our walls with fragile care,

Thin as glass, they’re always there.

A single look, a fleeting glance,

Can break them down with just a chance.

The words hit me differently now. I’d thought it was about us, about the way we were slowly opening up to each other, letting our walls come down. But now, I wonder if it was about her, about the walls she was keeping up all along.

I flip through more pages, reading poems I’ve never seen before. Some are about love, others about fear, about hiding, about running. The lines blur together as I read, my heart aching with every verse. I’m searching for something, for some clue, some explanation that will make it all make sense. But all I find are more questions.

How much of this was about me? How much of it was about her past, the life she never told me about?

I close the notebook, feeling the weight of it in my hands. The words are beautiful, but they’re also haunting. They make me realize just how much I don’t know about Sasha, how much she’s kept hidden behind her poetry.

I sit down at the small table, the one where we used to sit together, and I let the silence wash over me. I want to understand her, to believe that there’s more to her than the secrets she kept. But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can separate the woman I fell for from the lies she told.

As I sit there, lost in thought, the bell above the door rings again. I don’t look up right away, but then I hear a familiar voice—soft, hesitant.

“Evie?”

I freeze, my heart lurching in my chest. I know that voice.

I know it too well.

Slowly, I lift my head, and there she is—Sasha, standing just inside the doorway, her lovely green eyes wide with uncertainty. She looks nervous, like she’s not sure if she should be here, but there’s something else in her expression too. A kind of desperation, like she’s here because she has no other choice.

“Can we talk?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t know what to say. The words stick in my throat, tangled with the anger and hurt that’s still fresh, still raw.

But I nod, because even though I’m still furious, I need answers. I need to know why she did this. Why she kept this part of her life hidden from me.

Sasha steps forward, her eyes never leaving mine. And as she moves closer, I realize that whatever happens next, nothing between us will ever be the same.