Page 108 of The One I Want
“I do.”
“This is how you show someone you love them? By pushing them away?”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy!” I’m now screaming because I can’t with him anymore. “Every moment except for this fucking fight I have been happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Why would you think that I’d leave? How could you think that? Don’t you know how much I love you? How much I love the kids?”
He looks up at me, his eyes now completely void of emotion. “I thought she loved us too.”
“Fuck you, Wes,” I say, fighting back angry tears. “If you for one second think that I don’t love you, and I’d pull the same shit she did, then maybe I should leave. Hell, maybe I’ll take the interview! It’s what you want, right?”
He doesn’t say anything for a second.
“Right?” I ask. “Isn’t that what you want?”
He looks up at me and I almost break, seeing the range of emotions in his eyes. It reminds me of the night the divorce was final. Hurt, sadness, and anger. The only difference now is I know my eyes have the same look.
“Deep down, it’s what you want,” he says. “You just don’t know it yet.”
I laugh, but it doesn’t have an ounce of humor in it. “Of course it is. Because everyone knows what I want better than me.”
I storm toward the door, grabbing my keys and slipping on the shoes lying on the mat.
“Betsy! Wait!”
I turn around and shake my head. “I’m sorry she did what she did to you. She’s a horrible person. But to even put me in the same sentence as her…after everything we’ve been through…that’s the worst thing you could have ever said to me.”
Before he can respond I march out the door and get in my car and start driving. Angry tears are blurring my vision, but it doesn’t stop me. Somehow, I end up at Whitley’s. But I don’t even make it to her door. As soon as I open the Jeep and step to the ground, my legs give out.
And I just sit in the driveway and cry.
Chapter39
Wes
“Fuck!”
I rip the tie off and toss it on the counter. I’ve tied ties probably a thousand times in my life. Hell, I’ve already taught Hank how to do it. But for some reason today I can’t seem to get this damn thing to go on right.
“Dad!” Magnolia comes stomping into my room. “You owe the swear jar like, a gazillion dollars!”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I say. “I’m just trying to get my tie on for the wedding.”
“I bet Betsy could fix it.”
I look down at Magnolia, who is tilting her head at me, daring me to challenge her.
“Magnolia, we talked about this.”
“I know. I still don’t like it.”
I take a breath, wondering how I’m ever going to make this right with them. Betsy texted me a day after the fight saying that she was going to stay at Whitley’s this week—after she “got back from Birmingham.” She asked that we not make any more decisions, or speak again, until after the interview and wedding.
I nearly threw my phone across the room when I read that. Even though I know everything she’s doing is because of me.
That doesn’t make it any easier.
When the kids asked where she was and I told them, they each gave me a look like they knew I was full of shit. Even Magnolia. Later that night Emerson asked me if we were broken up. I told her we weren’t, that she was just staying at Whitley’s for the week. It’s not a lie, but I think she could tell that I wasn’t exactly being honest.
