Page 5 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Logan

I wasn’t a scotch man, but it was all the hotel bar had that wasn’t cheap or beer. If I was going to drown my sorrows in liquor, it’d be expensive liquor. Really expensive liquor.

God, I felt like crap. Worse than crap. I hated making her cry.

It was on the list of things I actively tried to avoid.

Eva had cried enough in her life. I never wanted to be the reason.

But here I was… breaking her goddamn heart because I was…

what? Selfish? It felt selfish. But wasn’t it also unfair if I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me?

I downed the rest of my drink and flagged the bartender for a third. A fourth? Maybe it was the fifth. All I knew was I was drunk, and it still wasn’t enough to drown out the guilt.

Logically, I needed to reframe my thinking—a hard thing to do while drunk. But I kept a list in my head just in case. I was no use to anyone as a partner if I didn’t understand myself, especially Eva.

I had the right to be selfish.

I had the right to figure out what was wrong with me—not wrong. I shook that clinging thought free, though it kept trying to come back. There was nothing wrong with me if I liked men as much as I liked women.

Had to keep that at the forefront of my mind.

Hiding it from Eva, that would’ve been wrong. My feelings and desires were valid. Even if they were complete douchebags for waiting until I was in my late thirties and going on my eighteenth year of marriage to make themselves known.

My phone vibrated violently against the bar, and I answered it despite my better judgment. I didn’t need to be talking to anyone in this state.

“ Tell me you hate me, ” Eva begged between sobs. Fuck . “ Please. Just tell me you hate me, Logan. ”

“I can’t,” I said. I ran a hand over my face. The self-loathing I felt deepened with every wet sound she made. Why couldn’t I be Logan Ashwood, the man she married? Not… this . “I can’t tell you I hate you, Eva. I couldn’t if I tried.”

“ Please, ” she whispered. “ Please… just hate me. Tell me I’m not good enough… something. ”

I swallowed hard as emotions clogged my throat. I deserved the space to understand myself… no matter how much it hurt getting there. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

“I can’t hate you, honey,” I told her, my voice cracking. “I don’t know how to hate you.”

“ Then why? I don’t understand. ”

“I know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and blinked hard to keep back the tears that threatened to fall in the bar. I wouldn’t break down. I couldn’t. “It’s not you, Eva. I mean that. You’re… you’re perfect. But it’s just… it’s not…”

“ Not enough? ” Eva finished for me, and I nodded as if she could see me. “ I’m not enough… ”

“Fuck,” I muttered. The bar swayed as I got to my feet.

I dug out my wallet and tossed a wad of cash for the bartender to find.

Maybe too much cash. I unsteadily followed the signs to the lobby entrance and wandered outside.

The bitter chill of the night was a stark contrast to the heat inside—a welcome difference.

“ Logan? ” Her meek voice ruined me. I just wanted to make her understand, but I didn’t know how.

“You’re enough, but that’s not… it’s not the same.

I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s not the same, you know?

I just… I need to know. I have to know, and we…

we can’t have it all, Eva, and I just… I have to know.

I can’t have both.” I couldn’t have both, and I hated it.

I didn’t want to give her up. “You deserve a better man, Evangeline Marie. You don’t deserve someone like me. ”

“ You’re wrong, ” she said. “ I deserve you, Logan. I want you. I want our life. ”

“Right,” I scoffed drunkenly. “Our life. Do you know what I miss about our life? The treehouse. And getting yelled at for staying out too late. And cereal. Life was simpler back then, Eva. So much simpler.”

And back then, never once had I thought I’d end up here.

“ I have cereal… ”

“I know.” I couldn’t help but wonder just how much of it she’d eaten already, drowning in the only thing that could bring her comfort. My voice broke as I whispered, “I love you, Eva. So fucking much.”

She said nothing, but I could hear how her sobs increased. God, I was a horrible person. I couldn’t just listen, so I hung up. I ended the call without a word.

And then against all my better judgment, I walked my drunk ass the ten blocks back home. I crawled into bed with my sobbing wife and held her because the idea of her crying herself to sleep was awful.