Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 36268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
“T-Thank you.” The words are so painfully adequate, but it’s the only thing I can give them. I have nothing else.
Dinner passes mostly in silence, with the couple deliberately giving me time and space to just...be. I finish my croissant without ever recalling its taste. Down my coffee like it’s my only hope for sleep. We call it a night soon after, and I’m ridiculously proud when my voice doesn’t shake as I say good night back.
I even make it to the bedroom with my eyes still dry, but the moment I collapse onto the bed, I’m already crying.
I don’t love you.
I cover my ears, but it’s pointless, with my heart sobbing the words over and over and over.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
I wake to afternoon light and the sound of voices downstairs the next day, and for one disorienting moment, I reach for Aivan before reality crashes back.
Oh God.
I remember everything in a flash, and of course, oh of course those words come back with a vengeance, too.
I don’t love you.
My phone sits silent on the nightstand where I abandoned it. No missed calls. No texts. Seven hours since I walked out, and he hasn’t even noticed.
Or worse, he has and doesn’t care.
Downstairs, I find Shayla in what appears to be a home office, sorting through legal documents. She glances up as I hover in the doorway.
“Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I shift awkwardly. “I should probably—”
“What? Leave?” She sets down her pen. “Do you have money of your own? Credit cards that aren’t linked to his accounts?”
Each question lands like a stone dropped in still water. “I...no.”
“Then sit. We need to be practical.” She gestures to a chair. “The legal aid office needs help tomorrow. Paperwork, making coffee for clients. Interested?”
“I...yes. Yes, I’d like that.”
“Good. Eight AM.” She returns to her documents. “Adriano’s making some calls. Quietly. The kind that ensure certain people know you’re under his protection.”
“But didn’t Adriano already speak to Eusebio—”
“It’s not that simple with famiglia,” Shayla explained. “It’s possible that Eusebio only speaks to Miguel Cannizzaro. We need to make sure that Aivan knows whose permission he’s obtained to have you as a guest, and so do other...famiglie. Those without power may get it in their head to “rescue” you in hopes of earning favor with the Cannizzaros. To prevent unnecessary complications, everyone must know that your current situation is an internal matter, and not one for other famiglie to be involved in.”
My stomach has tied itself in a thousand knots by the time she’s finished speaking. “I’m so sorry.” How could have I forgotten that the Cannizzaros were no ordinary family? How could have I not foreseen I’d be causing trouble of this magnitude to the one couple—
“Hey.”
Shayla’s voice hauls me back to the present.
“It’s going to be okay. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“But me being here—”
“You’re here because you were meant to be here,” Shayla says with soft firmness.
“H-How do you know that?”
The other woman doesn’t answer right away, but this only makes my worries worsen.
“Shayla?”
“Do you really want to know the truth?”
Instead of simply saying yes, I find myself actually trying to answer my own question by putting myself in her shoes. Why would Shayla act like it was practically destiny for me to come crashing in their rental? Is it because her husband and Adriano are friends? Or is it because they’re the only ones that know the truth about our marriage? What would make Shayla and Adriano different from everyone else?
“Is it because you’re the best lawyers in New York,” I ask unevenly, “and you believe I’ll be in need of your services soon?”
A part of me expects Shayla to confirm this as truth in a matter-of-fact way, but the other woman smiles rather wryly instead.
Huh?
“Let’s just say you’re partially correct.”
I can only shake my head, even more bewildered now. “How—”
“Because all other lawyers you can talk to might tell you to either accept a settlement or lawyer up for a higher payout.”
I swallow hard. “Does that mean our separation is...inevitable?”
“Not at all.”
Her confidence terrifies and reassures me at the same time. “Then w-what would you advise that most others won’t?”
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“For God to move in your marriage.”
Oh.
“What God has joined together, no man can put asunder.”
God.
Shayla says the words so simply, and yet with so much conviction, that I...I just can’t help it.
God, oh God.
I’m bawling my eyes out, and I end up wrapping my arms around my body because it’s shaking so, so hard that I feel like my sobs are about to make me explode with pain at any moment.
“H-He doesn’t love me, Shayla,” I say brokenly. “He s-said so himself.”
Shayla’s own tears start coursing down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“He doesn’t love me. D-Doesn’t love me. So w-what am I s-supposed to wait for?”