Chapter Twenty

Ella

Present

I have half a dozen missed calls and voicemails when I finally turn my phone back on later that night. Luke's beseeching voice bleeds through the tinny speaker as he begs me to call him. The last message in the queue is from Jamie. I hold my breath as his voice fills my ear.

"Hey, it's me," he sighs. "I know I screwed up. I know you don't want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you, though. Please, Ella, please meet me at the café tomorrow. I'll be there at three."

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stare down at it as I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his request. TypicalJamie, I sigh, always screwing things up then begging for another chance to make an even bigger mess of things. I set the phone down on the end table and head down the hall to the bathroom. Filling the tub, I sit on the edge staring at the swirling water gradually filling the tub.

I need to clear my head. Luke will be home in less than twenty-four hours and I need to figure out how I even begin to tell him this story. Disrobing, I slip into the steaming water and slide down until my head rests against the back of the tub.

Torment and despair battle through my body. Memories of everything I lived through with Jamie over the course of our relationship float through my mind. Everything I never told Luke fights for attention. I think about every decision I made that brought me to this moment. I made a hundred bad judgment calls and not a single one that could be considered a good one.

Jesus, this situation went from bad to worse with every passing second. I might consider myself lucky if Luke didn't tell me to go to hell and file for divorce as soon as possible. The thought of living without him made me heartsick, yet any decision he made he was completely justified in making. I made a lot of bad decisions not only over the last few months but years as well. I made this bed, prettied it up and now the time came to lie in it. Regardless of the outcome.

I needed to start making things right. I had to cut all ties with Jamie, first and foremost. I have to tell him goodbye and let him go forever. Sitting up quickly, water sloshes over the side of the tub as I cautiously climb out and hurry down the hall for my phone.

Snatching it off the table, I dial Jamie's number quickly before I lose my nerve. When he answers on the third ring I waste no time blurting out, "I'll meet you tomorrow. We need to talk."

"Uhm, ok-ay," he agrees casually. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I rush on, "I think we need to talk. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hanging up without waiting for his response, I drop the phone back on the table and return to the tub. My hands shake as I yank the plug from the drain, watching as the water swirls, forming a tiny cyclone around the drain.

How did I ever doubt my love for him? How did I ever think that my life would be better without Luke?

Tearing my eyes away from the swirling drain, I turn and enter the bedroom. The comfortable space was decorated in more my style than Luke's, yet everywhere I look, his face stares back at me, smiling from the photos scattered around the room. I want to cry but no tears come, the urge to hit something or someone overwhelms me, but my body is too tired to fight anymore. Shaking my head sadly, I shuffle to the dress and pull on one of Luke's shirts then climb into bed.

I spend the first nine hours of the day vacillating between anger, fear and despair. Luke's due home later tonight and I'm on my way to officially end things with Jamie. There will be no friendship, no relationship; nothing between us anymore but the memories of what we used to be when I am done.

If I was honest with myself, a small part of me finds delight in the possibility of breaking his heart for a change. However, the adult-oriented side of my brain tells me that there will be no pleasure derived from the act I am about to perform.

Parking on the street in front of the café, I sit in the car for a moment while I gather my wits and words. I have no idea what I'm going to say to Jamie when I see him, and perhaps that's for the best. He'll know what I'm saying is honest and not something I rehearsed in front of the mirror last night.

Taking a deep breath, I turn the car off and glance up. Jamie sits at an outside table despite the fact that outside the weather is a chilly forty-six degrees. Maybe he knows that he won't be staying long. His gaze is directed down at his hands, his phone glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. He looks in my direction, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes unreadable from here. I run my hands through my hair and step out of the car, and head toward the table he's occupying.

As I approach, he glances up, a smile breaking across his face and for a moment, I'm thrown. God that smile; that smile was the one thing that always managed to hook me time and time again. Part of me would never get sick of seeing that smile and part of me would miss it when it was gone.

Jamie rises from his chair, reaching for me. "I was beginning to think you stood me up," he smiles weakly.

"Just running a bit late," I respond.

"I ordered you a coffee. I wasn't sure if you wanted one or not." He motions to the table, his fingers brushing mine as he gestures to the steaming paper cups of coffee waiting on either side of the table.

The contact burns, scalding my skin. Yanking my hand away, I stuff it in the pocket of my coat. "Thanks," I murmur.

Jamie glances at my hand now safely stowed in my pocket and frowns. "I guess we should sit," he says dejectedly. "You said you needed to talk to me."

Walking silently to the table, we sit across from one another. I wrap my hands around the steaming cup and take a deep breath. "Jamie, what happened the other night-"

"Was a huge mistake," he finishes for me. "I'm really sorry."

"I appreciate that, but Jamie-" I stop and sigh.

I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to let him go even though I should I have a Ph.D. in letting go of him. I've been letting him go for fourteen years. Somehow, though, this time, is different. I know with undeniable certainty this will be the last time I ever let him go. This time, I won't get him back.

I take a deep breath, sucking the cold winter air into my lungs and square my shoulders. "We can't see each other anymore," I began. "We can't be friends, we can't talk. After what happened the other night...It's just clear that you want what I can't give you and I don't think that's ever going to change. I can't keep doing this with you. When I leave here today, I'm leaving everything behind.

You and I are no more. We aren't lovers, we aren't a couple and we aren't friends. Coming into this, I wanted to find a way to forgive you for what happened four years ago. I still don't know if I have and truthfully, I don't know I ever will forgive you. But I think I have a sense of peace about the whole situation.

I can't live in the middle of an emotional tug of war anymore. I love my husband and when he finds out about you, the baby and the whole messy past, he's going to be devastated. I can't have you lingering in the fringe hoping for yet another chance. I'm sorry."

The second I stop speaking, time crawls to a halt. The roar of the cars on the road, the other underlying ambient noises all cease. All I can hear is the thunderous booming of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears.

Jamie's smile falls in slow motion as shock and disbelief crash across his face. I watch his hand slowly reaching for mine and me paralyzed, unable to move it. His hand lands on my fingers, gripping tightly as he encases my hand in warmth.

"Ella, please," he breathes.

I glance down at his fingers wrapped around mine, then back up. "Jamie," I sigh at the same time a voice riddled with confusion says-

"Ella?"

In that instant, the noise clicks back on, flooding my ears with sound. A truck sits near the curb, growling as it idles, blocking the flow of traffic. Horns are honking as angry drivers shout. Turning my head haltingly, I search for the source of my name.

Luke stands on the sidewalk, his arms hanging limply by his side as he stares at me and Jamie's hands. His face is pale, his eyes wide and empty. I see the storm brewing in them as his fingers tighten into fists, his mouth twisting in rage.

"What's going on? Who is that and why the fuck is he holding your hand?" Luke lifts his hand to his hair, dragging his fingers through his tied back strands. Staring at me in disbelief he mutters, "I cannot believe this."

Turning, he starts toward his truck, then stops suddenly and rounds on me. He opens his mouth to say something then snaps it shut, his teeth clicking together. Eyes full of rage, he turns again and stalks toward his truck, his footsteps echoing on the pavement.

Snatching my hand out of Jamie's embrace, I trip out of the chair as I run toward him, reaching for his arm, my fingers digging into the muscular skin of his forearm.

Luke pulls his arms from my grasp and scalds me with a single look. "Don't," he shouts, pointing at me, warding me off, his other hand fisting his hair. "Do not fucking touch me right now, I swear to God."

"It's not what it looks like, Luke," I protest feebly.

"Not what it looks like?" he parrots, his eyes going dark. "NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE?!"

He glares at Jamie, staring at him like he would kill him if he even thought about breathing. I step between the two men, my past and my present, and reach for Luke.

"It's not what it looks like," I repeat weakly.

"Ella, you're sitting here with this David fucking Beckham looking mother fucker, holding his mother fucking hand and it's not what it looks like? How about you explain it to me then, because to me it looks like exactly what I think it is."

I glance around helplessly. "Please calm down-"

"Ella," Luke bites out, "I am calm."

"Then let's go home and I'll explain everything."

I close the distance between us, cautiously stepping toward him until I can smell the body wash lingering on his skin. "Please Luke, I can explain everything."

He stands before me, his chest rising and falling erratically, anger pulsing off of him in waves.

"Please," I beg again as I reach for his hand.

Luke shakes his head, his tense body winding tighter as I slip my hand into his. He jerks away at the last second, yanking his hand from my grasp. Jerking his chin toward the idling truck, he says through gritted teeth, "Get in the truck."

"Come with me," I plead.

"I will, in a second. Now go get in the truck."

I release his hand as warning bells clang in my head, screaming cautioning words at me, begging me not to leave Luke and Jamie alone together.

"Go on Ella," Luke urges gently. "Everything's fine. I swear."

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I do as he asks and make my way to the rumbling semi. Grabbing the handle, I hoist myself into the passenger seat, turning to glance out the window. Luke takes a step toward Jamie, his fists clenched by his sides.

Pressing my hand against the cold glass I beg, "Don't hit him."

Across the street, Luke remains where he is as Jamie nods, his hands flying through the air. Luke appears to say something, which Jamie nods in agreement, staring down at the table top. Luke's shoulders sag as he nods, then snatches my purse off the table. He turns abruptly and walks back toward the truck. My bag swings with his long furious steps as he crosses the street, his expression stormy.

The door opens with a high-pitched squeak and Luke's head pops up. He tosses my bag into the truck and slams the door as he settles behind the wheel. I reach for my purse when he stops me, his voice cracking like a whip.

"Don't."

Yanking my hand back, I clutch them in my lap as the truck shifts into gear, the café fading behind me. Silence buzzes as we ride home wordlessly. Before I realize it, we're in the driveway, the truck idling in the too narrow space.

I turn to him, expecting him to shut the engine off or talk to me or...something. He grips the steering wheel, his knuckles ghostly white, blue veins bulging to the surface. He stares out the windshield, his jaw ticking.

"I'll be inside when you're ready," I murmur.

Luke nods, his lips pressed into a thin, firm line, his eyes still trained on something in the distance. My legs quake as I climb out of the truck and make my way up the walk. Automatically reaching for my purse, my hand closes over empty air.

It's in the truck, I sigh inwardly. Wrapping my arms around my waist, shivering from fear and the cold, I wait for Luke. He glances toward me, realization dawning in his eyes. The grumbling truck dies a shuttering death and sits in silent judgment as he climbs down.

Making his way slowly up the steps, he squeezes by me on the narrow porch and unlocks the door. I follow him inside and go immediately to the couch, resting on the edge while Luke takes a position near the door, his hip resting against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently.

"Are you going to sit?" I ask.

"Are you gonna start talking?" he shoots back.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod. "I really don't know where to start," I admit weakly.

"The beginning is typically a pretty good place to start," he states coldly.

"Uh, yeah, sure; okay." Shifting toward him, I set my hands in my lap. "So," I begin, my voice shaky, "that guy is Jamie. We've known each other since our sophomore year of high school. We used to uh, date." I lick my lips and glance up at him. "I think you should sit. This is kind of a long story and there are parts - things - you don't know and I really think you should sit."

Luke sighs in exasperation, throwing himself down in an armchair across the room. A thousand emotions flit through his eyes as his gaze catches mine.

"Happy?" he mutters.

"No, trust me, I'm not. I never wanted this to happen. Hell, this is the reason I asked you to come him. If you could stop being an asshole for more than five seconds and let me explain, you might understand."

"Oh well forgive me for being an asshole," he mutters. "Excuse me for coming into town and seeing a woman who looks a lot like my wife sitting at a table holding some guys hand. I thought I kinda have the right to be a dick at this particular moment."

"That was a mistake!" I shout at him.

"That?" he parrots. "Meaning what, precisely? How many more sins are you planning on confessing to?"

"Huh?"

"Mistakes, Ella. How many "mistakes" did you make? One? Two? Fifteen?"

"I don't know, Luke," I shrug weakly. "More than one, I'm sure."

"Then it isn't a mistake; it was a fucking decision. You decided to do whatever you did."

"That's the thing I'm trying to tell you. I didn't do anything. At least not whatever you're thinking."

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his hands folded. "That's funny," he grins maliciously. "Because I recall you telling me this old friend was a female."

"No, Luke. You assumed it was a woman; I didn't correct you."

"And why is that?" He pretends to think about the answer, then says, "Because you knew full well there was no way in hell I would let you run around with some guy you knew way back when. Did you think about me at all when you made the decision to see him? Did you not think about how it would gut me?"

He shoves his hands into his hair, tugging at the band that holds it back. He shakes his head slightly, his hair cascades down, framing his face with the wavy blond locks. Coupled with the rage and fury in his eyes, he looks like a feral animal; wild and dangerous.

"You are killing me right now," he groans.

What do I say to that? What words do I have to make this right? I sigh, twisting my wedding band around my finger. I have nothing, my mind is a wide open field of blank space and empty words. Glancing up at Luke, tears shine in his eyes, gutting me.

"Four years ago I was in a horrific car accident."

"I know," he murmurs.

"Yes, yes you do," I answer quietly. "But what you don't know is at the time of the accident I was pregnant." I take a deep breath, summoning the will to utter the next sentence. "And the baby died."

Luke's head snaps up, his eyes finding mine. "What?"

I nod wordlessly, glancing back down at my ring. I can't stand the look in his eyes. I hate that look. I saw it every time I looked in the mirror and I never wanted to see it again.

"You heard me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell anyone," I shrug. "Even my dad doesn't know."

"Jesus Ella," he breathes. "Why didn't you tell your dad? Actually, how does he not know? He was at the hospital with you, wasn't he?"

"I was a legal adult. The doctors didn't have the right to tell him and I didn't want him to know. He was already scared and stressed out about my situation. He didn't need the added emotional burden of a dead baby as well. I kept it from him to protect him." I hold my head up and meet his gaze, my shoulders squared in defiance.

"And that guy?"

"Jamie," I supply.

"Yeah, that asshole. How does he fit into all of this?"

"We dated off and on throughout high school and a few years after. Our relationship was...tumultuous, at best, a clusterfuck at worst. We'd dated and broken up then would get back together for a while. At the time of the accident, we were doing well; or so I thought. The night of the wreck, he'd told me he was offered a job on the west coast and that he'd accepted it."

I stop and take a deep breath. This is why I never told him about what happened. It's too hard, too painful; almost like reliving that night all over again.

"I had no idea. None. And when he told me it was like...I don't know, being blindsided I guess. Things were said in the heat of the moment and I reacted poorly. I should have known better. It was raining, more like a torrential downpour. I ran out of the cabin. I could barely see two feet in front of me so I pulled over to the side of the road. Then bam, the car is sliding down the embankment toward the river. My dad said he came to the hospital that night, but he left and I never saw him again. He was the baby's father. That's how he fits into all of this."

Tears are sliding down my cheeks. I reach up and wipe them away, glad that the worst part of this was over.

"I haven't seen him in four years, Luke. I haven't seen him or talked to him; I didn't even know where he was. Then a few months ago he reached out to me over the internet and I saw it as an opportunity."

"To do what?" he asks, his voice is tight and thick with emotion.

I shrug, staring down at my jeans. Picking at a stray thread I wonder how he is going to take what I say next.

"A lot of things, I guess. I'm so mad, Luke, all the damn time. I'm mad at him for leaving me all those years ago, for making me lose the baby. I know deep down it wasn't his fault, but I am so damned mad at him. I wanted closure. I wanted to know why he left, why he never came back, why he didn't even have the decency to make sure I lived. I am sick of carrying that around with me. It is eating me alive. Every day a chunk of me is consumed by that darkness and I'm sick of it. And I'm mad at you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I'm mad at you for being gone all the time. I'm married to you but I never see you. You've missed countless birthdays and our last anniversary. Hell, you almost didn't make it home for Christmas last year. And sometimes," I sigh, "sometimes I think I hate you. I hate that I'm stuck here and you're out there doing all kinds of things, seeing all the places I want to see. Meanwhile, I'm shackled to this town like a parolee on house arrest. Honestly, part of me resents you in a major way. A bigger part of me wonders why you even married me if you didn't plan on being here to enjoy it."

"Ella."

He gasps my name, grunting painfully as if I'd mortally wounded him. I glance up, my eyes roving over his face, taking in his pained expression.

"It's true, Luke. If I'm being honest, part of me wanted to know what it would be like with Jamie after all these years. He was here and you weren't. I did spend time with him, trying to work through all the crap from the past and trying to figure out what it is I want, exactly, out of life. I thought maybe it was Jamie I wanted. I thought maybe he was what I needed. I spent so much time wanting him, thinking maybe we were supposed to be together or maybe not, but I needed to know for certain."

I sigh, my body weak with the confession. Across the room, Luke rolls his eyes, his shoulders belying the anger he is fighting to keep at bay.

"Well if you want him so damn much, you know where he is. Go get him, go be with him."

"You see, though, that's the thing. As much as I hate this life we're living, I realized I don't want him. He kissed me-"

"He fucking did what?" he roars, surging out of his seat.

"The other night," I squeak. "He kissed me, and for a brief second it was almost as if the last four years hadn't happened. Then I saw your face in my mind looking at me just like you are now, and I felt sick to my stomach. Everything I felt changed in the blink of an eye. I...I don't know. The rose-colored glasses I wore finally came off and I could see everything clearly again. I ran out of there as fast as I could then I puked my guts out in the parking lot. I realized then, sitting on the frozen pavement, that I want my life with you.

I met him at that café today to tell him that I don't want to ever hear from again. I told him that our chapter - mine and his - was closed. I had my explanation and a form of closure I don't need anything else from him. And he crossed a line when he kissed me. I made it very clear to him that I was married and that I love you. He had no right to do that and now I'm sitting here begging you to find a way to forgive me; to not give up on me, to give me one more chance to be a better wife to you."

I glance up at Luke. He's sitting in the armchair, his elbows propped up on his knees, his head in his hands. He's staring down at the floor, his hair shielding his face. I want to kneel before him and beg him to forgive me. But more than anything I want to know what's going on in his head right now. Tension fills the room as dread pools in my stomach.

The clock on the wall ticks the seconds by, each clicking more ominous than the last. The noise grinds its way into my skull, reverberating around the empty spaces. I can't breathe, can't move. The silence is unbearable, the tension worse.

"Please say something," I beg, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Slowly Luke raises his head and peers at me. He shrugs his shoulders helpless as his lips fight to find that accurate words and string them into comprehensible sentences.

"I don't know what to say. I feel like I left one person and came home to someone else entirely. I need time, Ella, space. I gotta figure out the mess that's in my head right now."

Wearily he rises from the chair, his body slumped wearily in on itself. "I'm going to stay at a hotel tonight. I'll, uh, call you in the morning once all the dust settles."

I sit frozen to the couch cushion as he makes his way to the door. The voices in my head scream at me to move, to act, to make him stay.

To let him go.

His keys jingle softly as he opens the door and shuts in behind him. His heavy boots thud down the stairs and seconds later his truck roars to life, gravel crunching under the tires as he backs out of the driveway. The electric blue truck rolls toward the stop sign on the corner and turns.

Then, when the truck fades from sight, I fall apart.