Page 73 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

Take care of yourself, Angel.

Nox

The paper crumples in my hands as I drop them to my lap. You would think after four weeks I would have gotten this crying bullshit in hand, but no. I wipe my face with my sleeve. God, I miss him. More than I ever thought possible.

“Why don’t you just go back?” Dash sips his coffee, leaning his elbows on the Formica. “Go see him.”

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“Show me the note?” Dash holds out his hand and waits for me to hand it over. He scans the page with the same speed he scans a computer monitor full of code. “There’s nothing here that says he doesn’t want to see you. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say either.”

“Maybe.” I glance at my phone as a reminder for my appointment with Doctor Ross shows up as a text message. “I better get ready. I have a meeting with my therapist.”

“Today I’d like to talk about what’s happening with your divorce,” Doctor Ross says, pouring coffee into handleless mugs that sit on matching white saucers before gesturing at the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Do you feel up to that?”

It isn’t the first time we’ve broached the fact that I can’t bring myself to sign the papers. Even though Nox finally did at my insistence. Normally when she asks me whether I’ve come to a decision I dissolve into a hot mess that can’t manage a word that doesn’t sound like bubbles of saliva popping.

I glance out the window behind me. It’s the same street I’ve seen for the past four weeks, and every single time I wish for oranges. I guess I ran as far and as fast as I could, but I never truly left. Part of my soul is still in Reverence with Nox. It always will be. “I can’t sign them.”

“Perhaps if you did, you would find some closure,” she suggests. “Sometimes we want to hold onto the past because it’s easier than facing what’s ahead of us. With Nox you had some certainty of what was coming, or at the very least you believed you did. It must be hard to let that go when you’re not sure what will happen next. But you’re making great progress, Beckett. You’re strong enough to handle life on your own.”

“No. It’s not that.” I reach for my handbag and plunk it on my lap so that I can rifle through it, looking for the note Nox sent me. I pull out my makeup case, packets of tissues, tampons, loose tubes of chapstick; strawberry, cherry, and watermelon flavors. A notepad. My phone. Car keys and a spare pair of panties. It’s in here somewhere.Oh God, please tell me I haven’t lost it. What if those are the last words I ever have from him?

“Are you okay, Beckett?” she asks.

“Yes. Just give me one more second.” I drop my wallet and a bunch of receipts on top of the small pile on the table. Grope around the inside of my bag until my fingers find something hard like a pebble only... not a pebble. A square rock connected to a slim circular band. My heart starts to race as I grip the ring through the satin. The one I was so certain I lost and would never find again. “No way. Just no freaking way.”

“Beckett?”

Doctor Ross is staring at me as if I’m about to have a meltdown. I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time, so she has ample reason to assume that might be the case. “Do you have scissors?”

She looks startled by my question. Although I’m a little shocked at that considering she helps people who aren’t in particularly good places mentally.

“I just need to cut my bag.” I tip it in her direction. “My wedding ring is stuck under the lining.”

“I think I have some.” She gets up, smoothing her hands down her skirt and moving toward the desk behind her. She opens a drawer and finds a pair of manicure scissors that she hands to me.

“Thank you.” I nick a hole in the thin material and cut away until it’s big enough to free the ring. After handing her back the scissors, I slide the ring onto my finger. Feels like an age since the first time I saw it there. Like the entire world shifted on its axis during that time. I was so certain of who I was and what I wanted from my life. Now, I can see that that girl was scared and broken and grieving. Dealing in the only way she knew how. I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her that everything will be all right. She’ll find a good man who will tear down her walls and make her feel again. And then she’ll find her way through her trauma and her grief.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks as she takes her seat again.

“Um.” I can’t rip my gaze away from my wedding band long enough to look for the note. Nox never wanted to sign the papers. He never wanted to let me go. But I forced him to. If I went home would he forgive me for not being strong enough to stay in the first place? Would he want me? I can’t be certain. I have no idea what my future holds if I go back and put my heart on the line. There might not be anything left to go back to. But I have to. The unknown might be terrifying, but not following my heart right now would be worse. If there’s any chance. “I have to go.”

“We’ve still got forty minutes, Beckett. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to stay and finish your session?”

“I’m sorry.” I start dumping the debris on the table back into my bag. “I have to see him. I have to find out if there’s any chance of saving my marriage.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that? We’ve made great strides, but—”

“Remember when you told me that emotions can be both a driving force for good and for bad?” I stand up and hoist my bag onto my shoulder. “I ran because I couldn’t bear the idea of someone I love getting hurt. I couldn’t bear the idea of having to live with that pain. But every day I’m here, every moment I spend without him, I feel that pain anyway. I’m grieving him when I should be loving him. If he’ll have me again.”

“What if he won’t?” she asks.

One thing that therapy hasn’t had an effect on is my ability to be dramatic. I take a deep breath and drop back onto the couch. We spend the rest of the session talking over coping strategies that I might need, and the setbacks that I might go through if Nox turns me away. It could be like losing him all over again. But I have to see him. I can’t sign those papers if there’s any chance we could make this marriage work.

“There’s a counsellor out that way if my memory serves.” Doctor Ross taps her pen against her bottom lip. “I met him at a conference a few years back. He’s a bit gruff.” She leaves her chair to go to her desk. Taps a few buttons on her computer and grabs a yellow sticky note to write on. “He’s very good though. You might consider looking him up if you stay. Or perhaps if you and Nox decide to reconcile. Couples counselling could be beneficial.”

“Thank you.” I cross the room to meet her near the door to her office. “I’ll look him up when I get there.”

“I really think you should.” She hands me the sticky note and squeezes my arm. “You’ve made great progress, Beckett, but I’d like to see you make more.”

Before I drop the note into my bag I glimpse at what she’s written on it. “Doctor Finn Casey?”

“Yes. If you decide to see him I can send him my notes.”

“Thanks.” I smile as I walk out the door. Can’t imagine Nox would be too pleased at the idea of his brother being my counsellor. That’s if Nox is pleased to see me at all. But at least I know who to ask for a recommendation when I get there.

---