Page 135 of Marrying Off My Husband

It echoed in the empty house, reminding of the empty rooms, the quiet solitude I’d surrounded myself with.

I snatched the television remote and toggled it on, grabbing my game controller and firing upMystic Realms. Whenever I felt alone, I always had my virtual world to immerse myself in.

I’d never had a problem that I couldn’t play away.

I smiled as the familiar title loaded on the screen before the thunderous drums pounded to announce success, and my world filled in around me.

My breath caught in my throat as my on-screen avatar opened his eyes. I still sat in Eve’s living room, on the couch I’d gifted her the night we’d built this house together.

Next to me, a sleeping Eve sat, her little avatar like her in so many ways. Every memory of her smile, her laugh, the way her cheeks reddened when I complimented her, that slight shrug she’d give when she was embarrassed, it all came rushing back to me the moment I spotted that pixelated image.

I realized I’d pushed her away, and it was like someone had plunged a knife into my heart. I switched off the television, unable to bear even my own game–one that had so often been my reset button for the world so many times in the past.

Instead, I sat alone, in a darkened room lit only by the occasional flashes of lightning as the storm raged on outside, mirroring the turbulence that reigned inside me.

I sank my head into my palm, grabbing my phone. As I toggled it on, I realized there was no one to text, no one to call.

I’d isolated myself. I couldn’t text Eve. I’d pushed her away in a desperate attempt to protect myself from the one woman who had genuinely cared about me.

And I couldn’t contact Louise. My heart pinched as I recalled her angry words, her pinched features.

“You are a coward, Spencer Whitaker,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “And you do deserve to end up alone.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as a shiver snaked down my spine. With a glance around, I realized that this would be the rest of my life. I was staring at the inside of my own tomb, quiet and empty.

A shaky hand rose to press against my lips as the ominous sound of thunder rumbled overhead, taunting me.

The knock on my door barely registered over the deep rumbling. My stomach jumped, and I sat, wide-eyed, for a moment, until the pounding sounded again.

Could it be Eve? Or Louise? I’d take either at this point as long as I still had a friend and a shot at redeeming myself.

I raced to the door and pulled it open, my heart racing with anticipation.

I froze as I spotted the figure hovering on my doorstep. Theo, his shoulder-length hair dripping from the rain, glared at me.

“Theo?” I asked, wondering if I was seeing things. Was this some sort of A Christmas Carol-like experience? Was Theo the ghost of girlfriends past?

“Spencer,” he answered, rain dripping off his chiseled chin. “Can we talk?”

“Uhhh, I don’t know.” I really had no desire to visit a crying Eve or go back over all our dates. My mind had already put me through this torture. Or maybe Theo was here to show me that Eve would go on to become a scrubwoman after she fell apart from my bad treatment.

Theo’s eyebrows shot up as he studied me. “You’re seriously going to leave me standing out here in the rain? Lou may have a point.”

I creased my forehead.

“Yeah, she told me,” he added. “And I’m here to tell you that you’re a complete fool.”

I stood, my fingers still lingering on the door handle until I finally snapped out of it and stood aside to let him in. “Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t expect you to drop by. And I was wondering if maybe I was imagining you or if I was having a supernatural experience a la Charles Dickens.”

I offered him a weak smile and a chuckle as he strode into my foyer, his wet shoes squeaking on my marble and his wet clothes dripping on my floor.

“What?” he asked, his features squashing.

“You know, ghosts of girlfriends past type of stuff? Never mind.” He had clearly never read the classics, nor seen any of the movies based on them.

“What are you doing, man?” Theo asked, his arms stretching to the sides.

I winced, knowing I deserved the harsh words that were about to flow my way. “Making a mess of things?”

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