Page 77 of Where Happiness Begins

“He was suffering, and he never let me help.” My voice is steady like all the tears and sleepless nights I’ve spent over this have finally settled into quiet acceptance.

“I’m sure he had his reasons.”

The smell of Carter’s detergent is a balm against my bruised heart. I pull back, enough that I can look him in the eye. “I need you to promise something.”

He swallows, then nods.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if you’re ever struggling again. Don’t leave me in the dark.”

“I promise.” He then presses a gentle kiss to my lips, one that feels like a seal to the deal.

Music resumes once more, like this conversation doesn’t trouble him. He’s not scared of broaching the harder topics, of seeing the parts of me I never let out of this house. He trudges on.

Now that the box doesn’t loom above me so much, I tuck my legs to me and snuggle while I pull my phone out of my pocket. I need to answer messages from potential collaborators I didn’t have time to respond to before.

The song he decides to play is one I love, an old rock classic, making me move my feet to the beat, but my body stills as a rock when I open my phone and see missed texts from Finn and Lexie, among others.

Lexie: Are you okay? I’m here if you need to talk. x

Finn: Need me to go beat up his ass?

Finn: That fuckface.

Finn: I’m sorry. But I also wish you’d let me beat up his ass.

I frown, entering my password before opening my social media platforms, knowing somehow that I’ll find my answer there. I’m right. The first thing I see is a picture that’s been shared by so many people I follow, one of a beautiful brown-haired girl showingoff her massive ring while the man I used to call mine sits next to her, smiling as he presses a kiss to her temple.

I recognize her after a few seconds. She’s also big on social media, a beauty influencer I’ve crossed paths with at a few events over the years. To be honest, I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. I don’t follow him, and except for reshared posts here and there, I have no idea what he’s doing with his life. At the end of our relationship, with the cheesy excuses he gave me for dumping me—I need some time to figure out what I want with my life, it’s not you, I swear—I’d guessed another girl had caught his eye, but I never thought it would become something serious.

And here he is. Engaged.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

“Lili.”

My heart stutters at the nickname as if he fought using one for so long but finally lost. Still, he didn’t use the same one as everyone, like he wanted something that was solely his. Solely ours. It fills me with warmth, enough that I feel okay saying, “My ex just got engaged.”

Even though I’m not looking at him, I feel the physical way he takes this in, the muscles I’m leaning on contracting.

“Are you okay?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.”

Another pause, then, “Do you still love him?”

“No! God no.” I pull back so I can look at him. I hate that the thought even crossed his mind. “I don’t even miss him.” In fact,I haven’t missed him for a long while, and once Carter came into my life, he flew right out the window of my thoughts.

Carter doesn’t need to speak his next question. It’s written all in the careful, confused way he’s studying me.Then why are you reacting like this?

I look at the photo once more. They both look so happy, so in love. Did he ever look at me like that? Or was I blind?

“He kept telling me he didn’t want to get married, ever.” I let out a short huff of air, but there’s no humor in it. “I guess he just didn’t want to get married tome.”

“Then he’s even dumber than I thought he was.”

I smile, squeezing his tense thigh. “You’re sweet.”

---