Page 102 of Dirty Husband
That's one way of putting it. "It is."
"You don't seem happy."
I stand. Move around the table.
It's a big room, but there's still not enough space. I don't want to be near his implications.
I go to the other window. Take in the view. Yellow lights against the blue sky. New York at night. The city that never sleeps. It's most alive at night.
"Shep?" he asks.
"Was that a question?"
"Yes."
"I'm happy." I hate that he's right. I'm not capable of happiness, but I need to pretend. I need to convince everyone I'm madly in love with my fiancée. That she's madly in love with me. I need that glow Nick and Lizzy have. The one that screamswe're in love and the world loves us because of it.
"You don't have to lie to me." His voice is soft and firm at the same time. That parental voice that meansyou can trust me with anything, because I will take care of you. "I'm not going to tell anyone."
"You lost the right to say shit like that a long time ago."
"I know. I'm sorry."
My chest tightens. He's sorry? Does he think that makes a difference? Does he think I didn't hear him the first three thousand times?
Sorry isn't enough.
Sorry doesn't erase what happened.
Sorry only brings it back.
I don't need that. I need it gone. Dissolved.
He took that from me. Took the only thing that helped.
Fuck him and fuck his sorry.
"I know that doesn't mean anything, but I am. If I had known… I would have killed him," he says.
"I don't want to hear it."
"I know. But you need to."
"Fuck off."
He takes one step toward me. "He's going to be at the wedding?"
I turn to my brother. Take in his posture.
It's all soft, comforting, like he really believes he looks out for me.
"Are you going to say something?" I ask.
His face screws with confusion. He considers it a ridiculous question. "No."
"Lizzy knows."
"Yes."
