Page 89 of What He Always Knew

Even on the hardest days, on the days when I saw her in his arms, or watched her watching him from across the room, I still believed. That belief was solidified after our weekend away together, and given a little ray of hope again after I told her the truth about Natalia.

But that belief was like a small candle flame, and it had been snuffed last night after the gala.

It wasn’t that I was accepting the fact that she would likely choose to be with Reese, but more that I was preparing for it. I spoke my peace with Reese, letting him know that if she were to choose him, he had better never treat her like less than a queen. I’d also given Charlie a little piece of me — of our family — to take with her, should Reese be her choice. And right now, I was packing up a bag with enough supplies to get me through a week, just in case she walked through that door and told me it wasn’t me she loved anymore.

For all intents and purposes, I was ready.

But I knew I’d never be able to truly let her go.

I could pretend. I could smile for her, bow out and let them be, and try my best to move on with my life. Her happiness was all that mattered to me — and that was something I didn’t have to pretend to believe. It was as true as my belief in God above, and even if it killed me, I would walk out of her life if she told me it would make her happier — thathewould make her happier.

After last night, the likelihood that those would be the words she said to me was enough to knock me to my knees.

I’d asked for two months, and truth be told, I wasn’t sure I’d done enough. Even with talking to Patrick, with digging through my dark caves to pull out whatever I could offer, with telling her the truth about Natalia, with reminding her about the life we’d built together — I didn’t know if it was enough.

I’d let Reese get in my head. I’d let him shake me from telling her about Natalia the first time, let him get under my skin at the hospital and again after the gala last night. I should have taken Charlie home, should have spent the evening cherishing her — like it was my last night, or like it was the eve before our new life began.

But I didn’t.

I was flawed, far from perfect, and though I’d done all that I felt I could, I looked back on the months that had passed with the overwhelming want to try again. I wished for a redo button, for an extra life, for a rewind and pause — but I couldn’t have any of those things.

All I could do was trust that smothered belief deep down inside me that felt Charlie would come home to me.

I folded another shirt and tucked it into my suitcase, trying my best to keep my eyes off the clock in our bedroom. It was late, the sun had set hours ago, and I still hadn’t heard from her.

Maybe she won’t come home at all,I thought, but just as it crossed my mind, I heard the front door open and close downstairs.

And then, I felt her.

Charlie’s presence always hit me the way I imagined a drug would hit an addict. Just being in her vicinity had my entire body alert, my senses locked in, my hands and eyes searching for her — wanting her, needing her.

My ears perked up as her feet hit the stairs, and I continued packing, listening to every step. She called my name somewhere down the hall, but I couldn’t answer.

I thought I was ready.

I thought I could do this.

But I couldn’t.

I heard her as much as I felt her step inside our bedroom, but I kept my back to her, stuffing ten pairs of socks into my bag.

She was here. She was standing in our bedroom, in a place where we made love, and I already knew by the energy rolling off of her what she had come to say.

Time was up.

I was too late.

This is where it ends.

Charlie

“Hey,” I breathed, still leaning against the door frame that led into our bedroom.

Cameron’s back was to me, his hands busy organizing the suitcase he had laid out on our bed. It was the same one he’d packed for our honeymoon, the same one he’d packed for our getaway trip back to Garrick.

He paused at the sound of my voice, turning just slightly, enough to offer me his profile. “Hey.”

I’d never felt more like a stranger in my own home.