Page 90 of A Lie so Dangerous and Fragile

“Good.”

“How are you feeling about everything?” She looked at me over the rim of her cup.

“It’s overwhelming, but I’m taking it all in.”

“I’m really happy for you, deciding to keep the twins. I know it was a tough decision. I love seeing Tristan so overjoyed and himself again. You gave him that, and I can’t thank you enough. I’m sorry we hurt you. I hope you can forgive us one day.”

I nodded, fidgeting with the hem of my uniform.

“It was all me. I convinced him to keep you around because you were like an escape from all his nightmares. You made him feel human again. I couldn’t let him let you go after seeing the happiness and life you had brought him. He never wanted to lie to you, but I made him, so please, whatever resentment you feel toward him, pass it to me.” She sobbed.

I wanted to move on from what had happened, but everyone kept bringing it up and apologizing. It made it hard for me to forget.

“It’s fine. My goal right now is for the twins to have a better life and for me to be the best version of myself for them. I don’t wanna dwell on the past.” I stood up and walked to the couch. I sat next to her and hugged her.

“It’s okay,” I whispered as she cried.

I noticed a big photo album beside her. My eyes were glued to the toddler smiling so big with deep blue eyes and golden-blond hair.

“Is that Tristan?” I asked.

She pulled away and grabbed the album, wiping her tears away. Her lips tilted upward at the corners as she brought it closer for me to see. She told me about the picture, talked about Tristan as a kid and how she had wanted more kids before she lost her husband. I looked through the album as she talked about her love story. I could tell she wasn’t still over her husband’s death and missed him terribly.

I stayed with her for a while before leaving. I walked into the twins’ room and gave each of them a kiss. I took a glance at Tristan’s room when I stepped outside the kids’ room. I wondered if he was awake and if it was the right time to talk.

I found my feet leading me to his room. Every step increased the thumping in my chest, like an inflating balloon. I paused in front of the door and raised my small fist to knock, but I stopped myself. I wasn’t ready. I should sleep over it. I heard movement from behind the door, and the lights came on. I froze, praying he hadn’t heard me. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath till I tiptoed to my room.

I sighed with my palm on my chest. I stripped and went to take a shower. The water sprinkling on my skin felt like new thoughts raining on me. How was my conversation with him going to go? He had told me at the hospital that he never stopped loving me. Even if we were to get back together, whatever trust I’d had for him was no more.

Things had been different in Cuba with him. Since we’d returned to Beverly Hills, he’d been distant, but I could feel his hot gaze on me every time we were in a room together. It burned my skin and made my stomach act weird.

I exhaled deeply and dressed up for bed. Even if my body was exhausted, it was still hard to catch any sleep with the questions swirling in my head like a thunderstorm.

I jumped down from the bed and grabbed the duvet and a pillow. I walked to the twins’ room and slept on the floor in between their cribs.

26

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TRISTAN’S POV

I checked the wall clock hanging above the closet doorway for the hundredth time, counting every second to when she returned from the diner. My ears waited in anticipation for the sound of her footsteps. I lay in the dark, staring into the blackness that had become my best friend. It was now like a routine, waiting every night for her, like a kid waiting for Santa to sneak through the chimney with a Christmas present. I was hyperaware of every sound as I lay on the large bed.

I wished she’d quit the job at the diner and focus on school. I knew she’d never accept my help or anything from me again, but it was getting harder every day, watching her work like she had no one. I’d asked her to take one of the cars, but she’d refused. If I wasn’t trying to take things slow, I would have driven to the diner every night to pick her up even if I had to carry her inside the car myself. I had imagined every possible worst-case scenario that could happen to her, coming back so late by herself.

I knew she’d leave here soon and return to her apartment, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of not having her here with the kids. We hadn’t talked about the kids’ welfare, but I already knew what she’d want. She couldn’t even look at me for more than a millisecond since we had returned from Cuba. It was as if the closure and moments we had shared in Cuba never happened. I wanted to go at her pace. I wanted her to decide what she wanted, but I wouldn’t stop fighting for another chance foruseven if she probably hated me.

I had no idea what she had gone through, keeping the twins, and it made me hate myself for what I had put her through. I didn’t deserve any piece of her, and I was ready to give my life away for her to be happy again. I had taken it all away, and as much as it hurt to admit, I shouldn’t be in her life, but I was too selfish to let her go. To watch another man give her everything I couldn’t.

She’d told me she forgave me, but I knew it was because of the kids. I’d spend my whole life trying to earn her forgiveness if I had to. I didn’t want her to feel pressured to be with me because of the kids. We could co-parent. I’d appreciate any glimpse of her and the kids I could get because God knew I didn’t deserve them, but I was going to show them every day, every hour, minute, and second that they were my universe, and I was going to keep fighting to prove I’d grown from the past and I was better now. Better for them, for her. And if given the chance, I’d put everything on the line to make her happy. I didn’t care if I had to burn the whole damn world to ashes to put a smile on her face. I wasn’t letting go of her.

I heard a door opening downstairs. She was back. My heart filled with relief and warmth as I sat up on the bed, waiting to hear her come upstairs and enter her room. There was no sound of her footsteps, and each breath I took grew with worry. Maybe she’d stopped to eat something. Would she even accept me making her favorite food for her? I didn’t care what the time was.

I stood up after five minutes of no footsteps or the sound of her door opening. I walked to the door and tried to open it to check on her, but I didn’t. I gave myself another five minutes before leaving the room to see if she was back and if she needed anything. I was about to turn the door handle when I heard her soft voice and the footsteps I’d been anticipating. Every cell in my body was begging me to open the door and take a glimpse of her even if I’d see her tomorrow. I wanted to tell her how good she looked, how she made heat flow to my groin every time I saw her in the fitted waitress dress. I counted the seconds till she entered her room, not knowing I was waiting for her at the other side of the door, dying to talk to her about her day, to give her a hug and massage the stress out of her body. Her footsteps stopped. Did she know I was awake? Was she staring at my door with longing or hatred? I heard her footsteps approaching my room. I held my breath, fighting every muscle urging me to open the door. I’d open the door in a flash, just hearing her skin brush the hardwood door.

Maybe she didn’t know I was awake. I moved closer to the light switch two feet away and flipped it on. I saw her shadow behind the door. I waited for her to knock, begging the universe for the sound of her fist on my door, but she didn’t. My heart sank as I heard her footsteps retreating.

I clenched my fists and rested my forehead on the door. She’d never depend on me for anything. I’d lost her trust and her love, and she couldn’t even approach me for anything.

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