Page 68 of Inspiring Izzy

"I don't know what to do with this information," I say to him. My heart hurts. It hurts worse than it did when I boarded that plane to California ten years ago.

He lets my hands go and backs up, giving me space. "I...I should have told you. I should have forced you to listen to me."

I take a deep breath. "We can't keep doing this, Brady. We can't keep saying we wish we would have done things differently. It doesn't help our situation. It's not helping anything."

"I know," he agrees. "But I wanted you to know everything. I don't want there to be secrets between us. They were—are—too heavy for me."

I place a hand on my chest, willing my heart to stop stinging. All these years, I thought I had ruined Maya's life. I thought I was the reason she didn't get her happily ever after with Brady. I thought I had caused someone the worst kind of pain.

"Is there anything else?" I ask him,

Brady moves closer again and nods. "Yeah. I didn't sleep with Maya. Not once while we were together. I didn't even kiss her. I couldn't bring myself to. It felt like I was cheating on you every night I slept next to her. It was...I was trying to find a way out of the wedding, but she wouldn't talk to me. She wouldn't listen to me. I didn't know what to do. She just kept making wedding plans with my mom, and I couldn't stop it."

"Brady," I tilt my head to the side as his chest rises up and down, "it's OK."

"It's not," he scratches the back of his neck. "You deserved so much better than me. And now that you're standing in front of me, it's just..."

"Painful," I finish for him.

He slowly nods. "It doesn't help that Steve was a shitty husband to you."

I slide my hands up Brady's chest. "Steve was a shitty husband, but he also gave me my daughter."

"You were doing it all on your own."

"And now," I smile, "I don't have to."

We stare at each other as the cool breeze wraps itself around us. I'm not sure how long we stand there, but eventually, Brady breaks eye contact and motions to the trail.

"We should keep going."

Reluctantly, I try pulling away from him, but he grabs my hand and tangles our fingers together.

There are so many unanswered questions swimming in my head. Why didn't Brady try harder to tell me the truth? Would I have let him? Would I have cared? What does this mean moving forward? Should we be holding hands right now?

"Can I ask you a question?" I say to Brady.

"Yeah, anything."

"Why didn't you ever introduce me to your parents?"

Brady shakes his head. "Because I loved you, and my dad liked to pick apart all the things I loved."

"But you loved Maya," I argue. "Did he pick her apart?"

"No, he didn't. Maya knew how to suck up to him. She learned early on what to say to make him happy."

"I didn't get the suck-up gene."

"Neither did I," Brady sighs.

"I need to know what this is," I hold up our twined hands.

"What do you want it to be?"

"I'm not sure," I admit. "My life is messy right now."

"And we have rules," he reminds me.

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