Page 6 of The "I Do" Do-Over

What I am mad about, though, is how she up and disappeared without a goddamn word to me in the morning.

I haven't seen her since, but I've heard from her plenty these last few months. She started sending me these letters, asking for a divorce.

She doesn't want anything except her freedom, she says. Freedom fromme.

What in the actual fuck? It’s not like I trapped her, and I sure as hell didn't mean for us to get stuck like this.

But I have a demand too.

Before I sign these divorce papers, I want to talk to Taryn. Face to face, like I’m a human being.

She owes me that after seven years of silence, not to mention a lifetime of friendship before that.

I want to hear it from her directly.

I need to.

She obviously regrets what we did that night in Vegas, but I don't. I’d been wanting to make Taryn mine for years. But we were kids and I knew I was dumb, like all kids tend to be. I didn’t want to ruin things by being too rash.

But when everything went down in Vegas, I thought it was my chance. We must have been meant together, I figured, because once we let our inhibitions go, we’d fallen so naturally into each other's arms.

It's a little funny now, looking back, thinking that I knew so much more at twenty-one than I did at sixteen. And while I can't say how much wisdom I've gained in the seven years since, I know one thing for damn sure: Taryn is the love of my life.

Or at least, she was.

And if she wants to be rid of me, to pretend I don't exist . . . well, she owes me one thing and that's the courtesy of explaining it to my face.

I won't settle for anything less.

Tearing open the envelope from her lawyer, I quickly scan it. Yep, it’s the same old bullshit.

Sliding back behind my desk, I open my laptop and start typing out an email. I address it to Taryn’s lawyer and to Taryn herself. This is not the first email of its kind that I’ve written, but I sure would like it to be the last.

I haven't gotten a response to any of the others. Maybe this will be it. Maybe this will be the time that she finally listens and stops treating me like a mistake.

Maybe what we didwasa mistake. I can give her that — I can even understand it. But she treatsallof me, and our whole friendship, like a mistake, and that’s just not right.

I love Taryn in a ’til-death-do-us-part way, sure. But I also love her as a friend. And damn, her rejection of that lovehurts.

I start typing:

Dear Taryn and company,

Thanks so much for checking in on me. You're so thoughtful. Like I've said before, I need to talk with Taryn face to face about this.

I'll go anywhere, meet her anywhere — but I won't be written off like this.

I’m sure half of Heartwood would love to see you if you came by for a visit. You know where to find me.

Best wishes and warmest regards,

Boone

I sit back with a sigh and hitsend.I’m not trying to mess with her or waste her time. But a man's got his dignity.

And truth be told, I still have feelings for Taryn. I've tried dating. And while some of those relationships lasted longer than others, none of them worked out because I couldn't get Taryn out of my head. I couldn't stop comparing those other women to her.

That was wasn't fair to them — or to me.

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