Page 11 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Eva

The BeanBag Coffee & Co. It was such an odd name for a coffee shop—eclectic and fascinating.

The name matched the interior with its mismatched chairs, scuffed-up tables, hanging potted plants, and colorful bookshelves filled with old books.

I liked it. It wasn’t a place I would’ve normally gone to, but I liked it.

Younger me would’ve lived in a place like that. Funny how things changed.

Before even going in, I took a picture of the place and sent it to Elliot to provide proof that I had followed his suggestion.

ELLIOT : Oh, you went ALLLLL the way across town.

You said to get out of my comfort zone.

ELLIOT : That’s a whole taxi ride away.

I don’t like to drive. Everything is a taxi ride for me.

ELLIOT : Touché.

ELLIOT : Are you excited?

I chewed on my lower lip as I thought about how to answer. Was I excited? It was just a new coffee shop. It shouldn’t have been such a complicated question to respond to.

Maybe?

A little?

I don’t know. It’s cute.

ELLIOT : You’ve got this.

You say that now…

ELLIOT : I have all the confidence in you, Eva Marie Cartwright-Ashwood.

I smiled to myself. Ever since I’d given him that little tidbit of information, he’d gone out of his way to include it in our conversations. Every conversation . Somehow, it was the little reminder I didn’t know I needed.

ELLIOT : Go kick some ass.

It’s not that kind of situation.

ELLIOT : Every situation is an ass-kicking situation once you reframe your thinking.

ELLIOT : Love you, short stuff. You’ve got this.

Love you too.

Fir st step: a new coffee shop.

Next: get divorced.

Yeah, I hated the sound of that. But that was the road I was on, even if I hadn’t signed the papers. I just had to accept it. My husband wanted to date men, I needed a new coffee shop, and that was that.

“Here I go, here I go,” I whispered to no one in particular. Pushing my sunglasses atop my head, I hugged my clutch close to my sternum and made myself walk inside.

Note to self: chocolate in coffee? Absolutely an atrocity.

It was like drinking chocolate milk, and I hated chocolate milk. I hate milk in general. I didn’t even like coffee. I drank tea. I should’ve gone with the tea. But no, I’d been determined to try something completely different—outside of my comfort zone—just to prove I could.

And I didn’t like it.

I pushed the steaming cup away from me and folded my hands. Why did such a little thing feel like an omen of what was coming for me?

I found myself enthralled with a couple at a nearby table.

Their laughter was boisterous as they shared a sandwich and talked about whatever.

Both men were so captivated by one another that the world could’ve ended around them, and they probably wouldn’t have known.

From their rings, they were married. Married and living their best life.

Was that Logan’s future? Was I just his first wife? Well… first spouse? Would he find a man he loved and marry him? Would he marry Elliot?

Would he be happy?

For as angry as I was with him and with the situation, some of those emotions had begun to ebb and fade away. Something akin to sadness replaced it. Sadness for myself, but also sadness for him. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. What he had to be thinking.

In the more recent years, his anxiety had grown exponentially. I could only begin to imagine how intense it was as he navigated this alone. He deserved better than that.

“You know, staring isn’t polite.” A woman’s voice—stern and unhappy—pulled me from my thoughts.

“What?” I blinked, shaking myself out of my gaze.

The woman sitting at the table across from me watched me closely, her mouth turned down in a deep frown.

She was pretty with a soft face and fire in her dark eyes behind a pair of crooked glasses.

Ashy blonde hair showed off her dark roots, and wild strands framed her face, sticking out at all angles.

From where I sat, I could see at least three pens sticking out from the clip holding it up.

“You’re staring.” She tipped her head in the direction of the oblivious couple. ”It’s rude. And if you’re staring because of the relationship they have, you’re—”

“No, no,” I interjected and waved her off. “I wasn’t… okay, I was, but I wasn’t. Not really. Honestly, my head is a million miles away.”

Boy, I sucked at this.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Her head tilted slightly as she continued to scrutinize me.

“I’m fine,” I lied. The words came out so casually that I almost believed it.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Who was this woman?

“No,” I said. She made a small sound like she didn’t believe me. While I hoped she’d leave me be, the woman grabbed her tote bag and her coffee mug. She left her table only to join me at mine. “Oh… hi. Hello. What are we doing?”

I wasn’t in the mood for making friends with a complete stranger.

“Some people are horrible liars,” she replied softly. “You’re one of those people. I’m Amelia, and you are?”

“Eva. My name is Eva.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Eva.” Her smile was warm and inviting as she leaned forward. “Would you like to talk about it? I’m a great listener.”

“Are you always so forward?” I countered.

“I think that we as a society are all responsible for one another,” Amelia said. “We’re so used to handling everything alone because that’s what the strong do, right? I think it takes more strength to lean on others than to handle everything alone.”

“ I mean…” That was hard logic to argue with. “You don’t even know me.”

“Why does that matter?”

“I don’t…” I shook my head. I didn’t have a good answer for that.

“I’m happy to listen if you’d like to talk,” she reiterated once more. I chewed my lip as I considered her offer. Honestly, it was appealing. I had no one else I could talk to—no one that didn’t know Logan.

“They… the couple… they reminded me of my husband,” I told her, keeping my voice quiet. “A few weeks ago, he told me that he thinks… or feels like… he’s attracted to men. And he’s asked for a divorce.”

That was the first time I’d ever said any of those words out loud to someone who wasn’t Elliot and already aware. They hurt to say. I blinked back tears.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia whispered. “That’s a tough situation—for both of you. How soon after his admission did he ask for a divorce?”

“He asked for the divorce first,” I scoffed.

“And only after I lost my temper did he tell me. I don’t think he planned to tell me at all.

Not that I blame him. I didn’t handle it well.

I accused him of having a midlife crisis, which I know how horrible that was.

He can’t control it. It’s not something he just woke up and decided, you know?

I just… we’ve been together our whole lives.

Met at eleven, started dating at fifteen.

That’s over twenty years together. How did I miss this? How… how did he not know before now?”

“Sexual orientation isn’t black and white,” she said and took a sip of her coffee.

“The human experience is so unique to every person that nothing can be considered the standard of existence. Sexuality is a messy, wild, and beautiful thing. It changes as we grow, as we become more sure of ourselves. I know the societal norm is to figure all of these things out when we’re young, but that’s so far from the case.

There’s no reason we can’t go through all those same discoveries when we’re older, when we’re more developed and settled into our lives.

There’s no reason we can’t go through those discoveries a few times over. ”

“You sound like you’ve thought a lot about this,” I commented. That was far too eloquent for a random coffee shop conversation.

“Ironically, this is my field of study. I’m a professor of psychology, but my focus is on human sexuality and relationship science.” Oh. “I find people fascinating, but I find the lack of resources available—especially in the queer community—to be frustrating. Education can go a long way.”

“It can,” I agreed. “So… do you think I did anything?”

“ While I understand your lack of confidence in yourself as a result of the situation, he’s the only one responsible for his sexuality,” Amelia stated.

“You changing in any way wouldn’t suddenly invite his interest in men.

The heteronormative narrative in our society is strong and often undeniable.

So many men and women convince themselves they’re straight simply because it’s a culturally reinforced concept at every turn.

Contrary to popular belief, you can’t turn a person queer.

It just doesn’t happen. The truth is, your husband has probably always been attracted to men.

The capacity for his attraction was likely there, but not in a way he understood or was even aware of.

Something sparked it—set off a chain reaction that ignited the awareness. ”

I nodded knowingly. Elliot almost kissing him was Logan’s moment.

“The capacity for understanding sexuality has grown immensely, even in the last decade alone,” she continued. “We’ve come to understand so much about sexuality, attraction, gender… it’s amazing if you think about it.”

“It’s overwhelming,” I muttered.

“It is. And if you’re overwhelmed, imagine how he has to feel right now.

Any journey of self-discovery is riddled with depression, confusion, anxiety, worry…

the list goes on. The journey of discovering one’s sexuality when the concept can be received so poorly can be particularly stressful,” she told me.

“Are you upset because he is attracted to men?”

“No.” I sighed and drummed my fingers on the table.

“I know I didn’t handle it well, but I’ve never done well when I’m blindsided.

I think… I’m more worried about him than anything else at this point.

Sad and worried. He wants to explore this part of himself—date men and such.

And I just… I just want to be there for him.

I just… some part of me wishes my marriage didn’t have to end. I love him. I’ll always love him.”

I blinked rapidly to push back the tears. None of my makeup was waterproof. The last thing I wanted to be was a sobbing mess in a coffee shop while talking to a stranger. It wasn’t a good look.

“I have a lecture next week that you should come to.” She rummaged through her bag until she came out with a business card and another pen.

As she scribbled on the back side, she said, “I host a free-to-the-public seminar once a month at the college. Usually, they’re a commodity with the college community, but anyone is welcome.

I also teach classes, and we can just pretend that you’re observing the class, which you will be.

I think you’ll find my next lesson to be quite educational. Maybe it can give you some direction.”

“ Okay.” I took the card, but didn’t have a clue what I was agreeing to.