Page 44 of Before We Were Us

Mr. Webster leans back against the wall and I remember the short window I have to make my plea.

“Work got crazy with a case, a family murder suicide. I was pulled in and then it was one after another, keeping me at the office for days at a time, leaving little left for home life. That can be hard on any marriage.”

“Still not an excuse for anyone to run out on their husband.” It was the first time he’d spoken since we entered the room.

“I came home to find a man leaving, offering my wife a kiss before he walked down the steps toward his truck. A truck that my neighbor later informed me had been there all night long and many occasions before.”

His scowl softens.

“That was more than a year and a half ago. I tried to get her to move out, considering the place had been one I’d bought with money that was left to me when my father passed. She wouldn’t go so after six months of hell, I packed my bags, left behind everything I’d worked for and found a shitty stale apartment. I filed for divorce and for the last year I’ve been fighting to get it finalized.”

“And?”

“She is contesting it, she’s used every excuse as to why, from things not being split fair, to wanting to reconcile and go to counseling.”

“What do you want?”

“I want it to all be over,” I confess. “I never should have married Chrissy in the first place. We aren’t good together, she’s vicious and I’m more than sure she married me for security and not for love. But losing isn’t in her nature and a divorce in her mind means she’s lost even though she’s the one that has some man living in my house with her.”

Gerald shakes his head.

“I know not telling Brynn from the start was wrong but Chrissy has managed to screw up the last several years of my life and I didn’t want her anywhere near Brynn. She’s like a tick, she finds something, she digs in and refuses to let go. The last thing I ever wanted was for her to see Brynn as a new target. And sir, that's what she will do because in her warped mind she see’s Brynn as a threat.”

“I have no doubt that my daughter can handle her own."

“I don’t doubt that either, but the thing is she shouldn’t have to. This is my mess, my hell and I never wanted to bring that into Brynn’s life. I should have told her about Chrissy, but things were so new and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Well, that backfired for you, didn’t it.” Her father chuckles, which surprises me. “I’m not going to help you get to her, but I also won’t stand in your way. It shouldn’t be easy, you made this mess. You should have to work a little to clean it up.”

With that he turns and walks out of the room leaving me there to stare after him. He reminds me a lot of my own father and I admire him a little more for that.

twenty-seven

. . .

Brynnlee

“Oh my goodness,” Marco squeals right before his hands go into my hair. Combing his fingers through the recently conditioned, colored, and styled locks. “I love the purplish burgundy ombre.” He is in awe and I’ll admit I feel like it was a risk that paid off. I’m in love with the new look. “So soft,” he adds, still touching my hair.

The lights of the club flash all around us, I am sure only adding more attention to my hair.

“I’m in love, girl.” He side-eyes Taylor and I choose to ignore the look they share. This is not a cry for help because I lost the guy!

“You two can stop with the shared hidden conversation you have going on.” I grab my whiskey and take another sip. “I did this for me, not for any other reason than I wanted a change.” I don’t even buy my excuse but I play it out.

“Love the red highlights too.” Marco ignores my comment and gives Taylor a wink. “Fiery, just like you.” She blows him a kiss then raises her hand to signal our server for another round.

I’ll admit we’ve been going out a lot more than usual. But sitting at home in our apartment only makes me think and right now this is the thing I need. I should have listened to my gut from the start. I should have avoided any type of relationship. With my track record I should have known from the start it would blow up in my face. Somehow, someway it always does.

“So.” Marco takes a seat at the high table with us and the way he is glancing between the two of us makes me nervous. Like I’m about to be bombarded with some kind of intervention where they proceed to tell me I’m falling apart at the seams, or we are hitting up an AA meeting downtown.

So yes, I have been using work and alcohol as a way to cope. Neither are a great option, but sitting around crying all the time isn’t in my DNA.

“I met someone.” The minute the words leave his mouth, relief washes over me from head to toe.

“Tell us more.” Taylor leans in and gets this eager look on her face, eyes focusing solely on him, smiling so much that her dimples are popping.

“His name is Keeton,” Marco states and his smile is infectious. “He is a pediatric surgeon and just transferred here from Boston.”

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