Page 90 of Where Happiness Begins

“I need space.” My hands have started trembling, so I tighten them at my sides, then squeeze my eyes shut. “Just looking at you hurts.”

He curses, then releases a shaky breath. “All right. I’ll give you space.” His shoes squeak against the linoleum floors as he takes one step back, then another. “But the second you feel ready to talk about this, I’m right here.”

I keep my eyes closed. It feels silly, but it’s the only protection I have against him right now. The only thing that keeps me from unraveling. My emotions are a boiling tin can threatening to explode. Anger and pain swallow me from all sides, toward Carter who betrayed me, and toward my father’s lies, and toward my mother who left, and toward the life that just can’t give me afuckingbreak.

I don’t move, and eventually, he starts moving. His scent fills me before his body heat, like an aura, beckons me to come closer. His breath is warm against my cheek as he says, “But just so you know, it was real.Allof it.”

When I open my eyes, he’s gone, and I don’t feel even slightly better.

Chapter 36

I’ve always loved this house. The shaggy carpet I used to play with my dolls on when I was a kid, the salmon-colored paint on the bathroom walls Dad let me choose at ten years old, the cozy wood stove in the basement, the chipped kitchen countertop from all our afternoons spent baking… It’s part of the reason why I got married, after all. I couldn’t find it in me to get rid of it.

But for the first time in my life, I think I might despise this place.

It’s been a week since I told Carter to give me some space; since I learned the entire fantasy I’d created in my head was built on lies. And ever since I came home from the hospital, I’ve felt lonelier than I have before. It’s as if the house is taunting me, making me notice everything I’ve lost at every corner. It’s one thing to know you could possibly, in an alternate universe, have a partner by your side, but it’s an entirely different one to have lived it and then to lose it. I look at the basement door and see Carter walking out of it, with bed-mussed hair and his scowl that lessens when he notices me. I look at the couch and focus on the two indents in it from the last time we sat there, watching the 2005 version ofPride & Prejudice, which Carter had picked because it apparently had one of the best soundtracks of all time. I even open the cupboarddoor to get the flour for my stress-baking session and see Carter replacing the doors so I could have a modernized kitchen. He’s everywhere, and it feels suffocating to just exist in here.

I stop mixing the dry ingredients for my banana bread as a wave of exhaustion crests over me. Even this isn’t helping. Nothing is helping. I’ve been avoiding my online job because every time I log in, I see all the messages and questions about my husband, and even though it’s always been fake, now it feels more real than ever.

I let my head hang between my shoulders as I catch my breath. My body feels so freaking heavy. Even when Ethan texted me earlier today to let me know that Crash & Burn had been nominated for some big award for their first album and would be celebrating by hosting a show at The Sparrow in a few weeks, I couldn’t get myself to be excited. It was all for this, and yet I feel like I’ve lost more than I’ve won.

I push the mixing bowl away. I won’t even eat the bread anyway, and I’ve got no one to share it with.

Pressure builds in my chest once more, and I fight it off like I’ve been doing all week. I can’t keep feeling sorry for myself. It won’t lead me anywhere.

It’s the middle of the day right now, so all my friends are probably working, but I know someone who’s always free to see me.

I pick my phone up from the counter and dial her number. “Hey, Nan. Would you mind if I came over?”

“My darling girl,” Nan says as she answers the door, her voice bringing me the comfort I’ve been craving since leaving the hospital. She pulls me in for a hug, and even though I’m short, I have to bend in order to rest my arms around her back. “I was so happy you called. Come in. I made that soup you like.”

I follow her inside, the smell of Italian wedding soup wafting around me. I’m not actually a fan, but it makes her happy thinking I love her food, so I’ll bring that secret to my grave.

With her stilted walk, she makes her way toward the kitchen area of her condo. “I was just coming back from playing shuffleboard—people there were dull as bricks.” She pours me a bowl, and when I go to take it from her, she pulls it away and gives me a face likeno way am I not serving my granddaughter. I let her bring the bowl to the table, her arm shaking as she lowers it.

I thank her, then pick up my spoon. My stomach grumbles, loud enough that Nan chuckles. I don’t remember when I ate last.

“Where’s that handsome man of yours? There’s enough for him too.”

And just like that, my newfound appetite is gone.

I didn’t want to talk about Carter today, but then again, I should’ve expected it by coming here. Nan’s a hound dog. She would’ve found it regardless.

I put my spoon down, and as much as I try, this time, I fail to keep a blank face.

“Oh, darling,” she says, her pained expression probably mirroring mine. She lowers herself to the chair next to mine, thentakes my hand in her warm, dry palms and squeezes. “Tell me everything.”

When Finn came to the hospital last week, I was barely able to string two words together. Even so, I never would’ve been able to tell the entire story. I kept it brief, only telling him Carter and I were probably over before we’d even had the time to figure out what it was between us, but I couldn’t go into details. The pain was too much.

But today, it pours out of me like a perforated water balloon.

I tell Nan everything, from my fake marriage to my real feelings and to the betrayal that Carter was actually my donor. I skip over the part where Dad was his AA sponsor, only mentioning that Carter knew Dad and felt like he owed him after Dad helped him through a rough patch. Anyway, I still don’t know the whole story, and I’m not sure I ever will. I want to know the full truth, like Carter offered, but I don’t know if I can stomach it. I want to bury myself away from those feelings, not dive into them.

“I don’t know what to do, Nan,” I say once I’m done, voice raw, the bowl of soup now cold and forgotten.

My grandmother gives me a pitying look before scooching her chair closer to me. “And why do you think he lied to you about it?”

I shrug. A question I’ve been asking myself for days.

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