Page 56 of Embers in Our Souls
“Hey,” she says, her tone a little clipped. It catches me off-guard.
“Hi. You okay?” I can’t help the way I look at her a little confused. Did I miss something between when I texted her after leaving the station to right now? “I brought coffee.”
I hold my hand up to show off the peace offering, but it does little to break her icy exterior.
“Thanks. Sorry, but I got pulled into a last-minute meeting. Come in.” She motions for me to follow her in. “Let me try to wrap this up. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll be right out?”
She gives me a small smile, but then she disappears off down the hall to what I assume is her office or room. I go into the kitchen and set the coffee cups down, not sure what to do with myself as I wait for Indy to return.
Soon I feel a little body move next to my legs. I look down and discover Darth zig-zagging between my calves.
“Hey, little guy,” I say, bending down to offer a scratch under his chin.
He leans into my affection, his purrs getting loud the longer I scratch him. I proceed to pet him behind his ear. He leans in further, enjoying the attention. Soon, he’s sprawled on his back, letting me give him a little love on his belly. This cat is more dog than cat and it’s hard not to smile at the way he’s letting me give him so much love today.
He’s got bright-green eyes, and a flat face. Darth lets me pick him up and I’m cuddling him when Indy comes out to greet me again. She stops in her tracks.
“Hey. Look who came out to greet me,” I say, my hand scratching under the cat’s chin, his purrs now loud enough for both of us to hear.
“That’s surprising. Darth has really imprinted on you.” Indy walks over and points to the coffees to see which is hers. I jut my chin at the one I brought for her. “Thanks for grabbing me one. I needed something fancier than the Nespresso I made this morning.”
“Everything okay at work?” I ask, seeing she’s only slightly less stressed than she was when she answered the door.
“Already putting out fires and it’s not even ten in the morning.” She rolls her eyes. “We had an author go rogue in an interview and the PR department was not happy. Sort of causes an uproar, but I couldn’t go in today so I had to handle it from here.”
“We could’ve rescheduled. I don’t mind,” I say as I let the cat jump from my arms.
“That’s appreciated, but you’re not the reason why I had to be home. I have my infusion for my Crohn’s medication today; I do it with home health. The joys of chronic illness,” she says on a sigh. “Anyways, my nurse was supposed to be here earlier, so I was running around getting my workout done, then getting Noah to school. But then my nurse had to push the infusion to later. Add this emergency at work, it threw off my whole morning. I don’t like when my schedule gets discombobulated.” Indy moves through her kitchen, filling up her water.
“I remember,” I say, sipping my own coffee.
She looks over her shoulder, drawing her eyebrows together. I don’t know if it bothers her that I know her so well. Or maybe she doesn’t like that I remember these little parts of her.
“Do you want to sit down in the living room? It might be more comfortable,” she offers.
I nod and grab my coffee. I follow her, where I see Darth is now perched in a cat tower near the window.
Indy sits down on a portion of the sectional and I take a seat further away, giving her some space. I wish I could sit closer to her, but I’m treading lightly.
“I’m going to jump to the chase, Tyler. I feel like each time we get together we get interrupted. I don’t want that to happen this time. And something about you—honestly us—I feel like I have a weak spot when it comes to you. I want to hear you out before we move forward with the divorce.”
So, she’s planning on moving forward with divorcing me. Something about that leaves me feeling unsettled. I look down at my cup of coffee. I don’t know why I feel a part of my heart break knowing this thing with us will be ending, but I was naive to think it would continue. What I did to her was a betrayal, evenif it was a lie on my end. She didn’t know that, and she’s lived believing I was something I wasn’t.
“I hurt you and I’m sorry,” I start. “I wasn’t in a good place when I wrote you that last letter.”
She sits there, her eyes trained on me, her back straight, and I can see she’s trying hard not to react. Then she looks down at her cup, fiddling with the lid. She stays silent, so I continue.
“If I’m being frank, I lied in that letter,” I tell her.
Her head snaps up, surprise etched on her face. “What? Why?”
“I wrote that letter shortly after losing Georgie. I spiraled. I was numb and reacted badly. I allowed my emotions to guide me and I pushed the best thing in my life away from me instead of keeping you closer.” I keep my eyes trained on hers, hoping she feels the sincerity in what I’m saying.
She sits there, not wavering from her spot for a few beats, until she finally stands and walks off. I’m thrown by the reaction. I follow her frame with my gaze, wondering if she’s simply done with this conversation, but soon she’s back with a piece of paper in her hands.
“So, you’re telling me that this letter”—she holds out what I now see istheletter—“these words you wrote me meant nothing? What part was the lie Tyler? There were quite a few things in that letter that I take issue with.”
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.
