Page 53 of The Affair
But loving him isn’t one of them.
I know you might think differently when you read these words, but they’re part of me now. Part of the legacy I leave in these leather-bound books.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that love is a messy sort of thing. There’s no one clear-cut path, and perhaps I took the wrong one.
But I chose.
And this is the story.
—Mom
I’d readthe words more than once, but they still hadn’t sunk in.
“Did your grandma have an affair?” Sawyer asked after also reading the letter that had been folded up and tucked into the leather journal we’d uncovered.
“I-I don’t know,” I managed to say, still staring down at the letter. “I’ve typed so many of my nana’s words. So many journal entries. After a while, I thought I was getting to know her, you know?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
“But this?” I said, holding up the letter. “It’s like I’m reading someone else’s words. It’s weird.”
Sawyer pulled out one of the other journals, his hands running along the detailed leather spine. “It’s definitely different. If the handwriting wasn’t identical, I would have sworn these belonged to someone else.”
There was a long pause, my mind reeling with questions until Sawyer asked the one I’d kept coming back to in my head.
“Are you going to tell your mom about them? Your aunt?”
I swallowed hard, biting my bottom lip. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on what’s inside.”
“This letter was meant for them,” he reminded me.
“Yeah, but my mom has already been through enough with my dad’s death,” I argued. “I don’t know if she can take this right now.”
“In my life, I’ve found that withholding the truth is never a good thing—even if it’s well-intentioned.”
I knew he was right, but I just couldn’t stomach the idea of having to deliver another bombshell to my mom.
There was a reason she’d locked all that stuff from her mom in the guest bedroom. I’d always assumed it was just a classic case of avoidance, but maybe it was something more.
Did she know?
“I’m going to go take another nap. I don’t think that Advil did the trick,” I announced, no longer in the mood for talking.
I folded the note back into the journal and set it on the coffee table before rising from my spot on the sofa. I could see Sawyer’s eyes follow my every move.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
“No, I’ve got it,” I assured him.
“Okay.”
“Do you want me to go?” he asked, and I knew this was him giving me an out.
Just like that, I could send him on his way, and when I returned to the store, it would be back to the cordial employer/employee status we’d established over the last two weeks.
“No,” I answered, surprising even me. “Stay.”
“Okay.”
