Page 111 of The Promises We Break

I don’t need to tell him about Vegas or why we stayed married or that I have divorce papers burning a hole in my carry-on the size of his home state.

I glance out of the window again, seeing the infinite ombre sky.

Flying at dusk is exquisite.

For a brief time, you can see the world as a universal whole. Dark and light battling each other in a limitless landscape.

The extreme palate change of the horizon is telling, as we fly into the darkness of the east, leaving behind the radiant setting sun that creates an ocean of pink and orange in the west.

It mocks me.

And because the world is cruel, lightning strikes in the dark sky, like I’m flying toward further agony. By choice.

“I was once on two different paths with my ex.” Corbin’s confession catches my attention, and I turn back to him, now realizing he was studying me that entire time.

“Really? What happened?” I ask curiously.

He presses his palms into his seat as he shifts forward, then recrosses his legs. Sitting back, like he has to get comfortable for this.

Naturally, I lean into my armrest and give him my full attention.

“We met in college. Both graduated the same year, and when I got a job at Ford, we moved to New York together. He didn’t want to move to New York. He loved Georgia and wanted to stay there, but moved for me, for us.” Corbin’s smile was brief with that memory, like he was recalling the conversation they had when his ex chose him.

“I climbed my way up. The company was expanding quickly. The growth was exponential, and work became more and more demanding, but I was good at it, and it became my full focus.” He weaves his fingers together, holding his own hand in his lap, his fingertips pressing aggressively into the base of his knuckles.

“He wanted to adopt and have kids. I wasn’t against this, but adoption is incredibly hard to accomplish for any two people, especially two gay men. We spent a couple of years trying. Well, he did. My focus was still on work while his focus was… well, on that path.” He gives me a light smile, using my own analogy.

“He found a woman that was willing to donate an egg and be our surrogate. After a few rounds of IVF, she became pregnant, but we lost the baby at fourteen weeks.” A heavy breath falls from his lips as his shoulders deflate. I want to run and hug him. God, how horrible.

“I lost myself in work to hide the anguish, instead of getting lost in him. He became extremely depressed, and we couldn’t get ourselves aligned again. The years of living in a place he didn’t want to live, working toward something but constantly feeling defeated, weighed too much on him. I loved him. I loved him so much. But I used my job as a crutch because it was easier to drown myself in work. One day, he had enough and moved back to Georgia.”

At some point in his story, my hand moved to cover my chest, which still rests there. Like I need it to hold in my heart.

“I’m so sorry.” My words are raspy and broken. Corbin’s so kind and happy. There is such a kindness behind his eyes all the time. I would have never assumed he would have gone through so much pain. But I guess that’s the thing, you never know what pain someone is hiding.

“I don’t regret any decision I’ve ever made in life…” I flinch at his statement. How can someone not regret anything in life? I regret what I pick for lunch some days. “But I regret letting him walk out that door and out of my life. I regret being too stubborn to follow him. I regret not fighting for him.” He leans forward, his hazel eyes burning a passion so bright, like he’s trying to inspire a room full of people and it’s not just him and I. “Ajobwill always be available for people like us. But theone,”he holds up his pointer finger, “that supports you unconditionally, loves you unconditionally, that will weather the storm with you. That’s irreplaceable.”

My mother spent years berating me, insisting marriage—and only marriage—was the right path. That our job as women was to stand behind a man, let him make the money and do whatever he needs. I fought this because that never felt right. I never wanted to rely on a man to take care of me financially, chain me to a monthly allowance, and be at whatever beck and call he needed.

It sounded like a prison, not a partnership. Never once did she ever talk about marriageandlove. Not like Corbin just did.

I was raised to believe they aren’t the same thing. But that’s so far from the truth.

The fear that’s been ingrained in me by my mother was always because I never wanted to be put down or shadowed by a man. I never wanted a life she described.

But that’s not the life that Hudson and I would have. I don’t fear loving him. I fear the life my mother said I would have with a marriage.

But she never talked aboutlove.

I was never taught how to love.

And I never even felt loved. Until Hudson.

I’m lost in my dazed confusion when the anchor from the news channel catches my attention.

“Robert Riley, running candidate for Governor of the State of Missouri, is being arrested for fraud, misuse of public funds, and tax evasion.” I gasp as my jaw drops. The video clips over to him being walked out of his home—my childhood home—with his arms cuffed behind his back. He’s glancing between all the cameras, yelling at them from a distance. “I’m innocent of all charges. My life, my entire life, I’ve spent serving the public, and my first priority has always been my commitment to this community and my state. That’s all that’s ever mattered. I am innocent,” he states one last time, as the police officer places his hand on Robert’s head to guide him into a police vehicle. My mother is in the background with her hands covering her face, in a completebreakdown, tears streaming down her face with dramatic sobs.

She is shaking her head at the people standing around her, probably claiming her innocence along with his.

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