It came out stilted. Everything was coming out stilted. Before, he’d always been so easy with me. Flirty. Forward. Why weren’t we that way now? I wanted to be that way. Wanted to be coiled around him, our clothes disheveled or missing. We should be making up for lost time, not anguished and distant.
Or maybe it was only me who was anguished.
And because I didn’t know how to be with him or how he wanted me to be with him—because I was pretty sure he didn’t want me to be anything with him in the future—I put up my defenses.
“So. Justin.” His real name was still strange to say, and it came out bitter when I meant it to sound guarded.
He lowered his eyes, and I almost regretted the coldness in my tone. “No one calls me that anymore.”
“Who did?” But I was really asking, did she?
“My parents. Grade school teachers.” He paused. “Corinne.”
And there she was. The ghost in the room. The real barrier between us. The cause of his need to get me over with, possibly. Probably.
I didn’t realize she would come up so easily, even when I’d directed the conversation there. Now that it was there, the tense undercurrent flared into a tidal wave, and I realized I was angry. Pissed. For so many reasons, and not all of them invalid. The urge to throw accusations pulled at me. You should have told me, sat at the tip of my tongue. You left me because of her. You didn’t tell me it was for her.
Then the one that really burned at me—You still love her. Not me. Her.
How could anything I ever meant to him equal what he’d felt for her? For the woman whose loss had killed him inside? No wonder he wanted to officially end things. He knew our relationship was as impossible as I did. Then why didn’t he just tell me and get it over with?
Yes. There was a lot to say.
But then her name brought up another thought, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked it first. “Did the jury come back?”
“Yes. About an hour ago.” He smiled, but it felt forced. “Guilty. They found him guilty. The sentencing will be in another few weeks, but they took him into custody.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact about it, so casual that I wondered if I missed something. “Is it over then?”
“Uh, yeah.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Mostly.”
I should have been relieved. I should have been grateful that he was finally safe. But ribbons of turmoil continued to curl in my stomach, and I had the distinct impression he was holding something back. Again.
“Well, then. Congratulations.” I didn’t even try to sound enthused.
“Thank you.” He was just as formal and restrained. “I’m still processing it. It went on for so long that it’s hard to grasp it’s finally done. I guess it hasn’t hit me yet.”
“It will. Give it time.” I was cold. Indifferent. Numb. It may have been a defensive reaction, but it was necessary. Because he’d left. He’d been gone for a year. He’d left me hanging, and when he returned he hadn’t brought me apologies or explanations. He hadn’t tried to reassure me. He’d come back but he’d brought the distance with him.
So I had to be bitter. Otherwise I was going to be furious. Otherwise I was going to be destroyed.
With an iciness I hadn’t heard in myself for some time, I broached the next subject that he should have addressed without me asking. “What about your wife?”
“Yeah…about that…” He scratched at the back of his neck, and I gripped the edge of the table with my hands, preparing myself. “It’s actually quite funny.”
“What do you mean?”
He let out an awkward laugh. “It’s embarrassing, really.”
“More embarrassing than you getting drunk-married?” Until that moment, I’d trusted that nothing had happened with her. But what if it had? What if they’d had sex? What if he’d stayed with her? What if she’d gone with him to wherever he had to hide and the funny story was, Now we’re totally in love?
But he said, “No. That was worse. For sure. That you thought I was married was very much worse.”
That just confused me more. Because there was nothing funny about his marriage. And what did he mean by you thought I was married? “I thought you were married because you told me you were. Are you saying you lied?” The bitter edge in my tone was now also laced with frustration.
“No, no. I didn’t lie to you. But when I went to the chapel the next day to figure out how to get it annulled...” He waved his hand dismissively then pulled his phone out from inside his jacket. “It sounds hokey. They gave me a DVD that I can forward to you. That should explain it.” He swiped a few times across the screen then hesitated. “Uh, do you have your phone with you?”