I’d cried all night.
Calling him made it a million times worse. I should have never done it. I’d just opened the wound, and now I was bleeding again. Hemorrhaging and I couldn’t make it stop.
I dug in my closet with red, puffy eyes for what I planned on wearing for the gala tomorrow. It was a sleeveless, floor-length silver ball gown with a full, puffy tulle skirt. I’d bought it at Neiman Marcus last year on a girls’ trip to New York with Jessica and Gabby. Just bought it, this four-thousand- dollar dress, for fun. No event planned, nowhere to go in it.
It occurred to me now how totally frivolous and ridiculous that was. I was not the same woman I was back then.
I tossed it unceremoniously onto the bed and put the silver strappy heels I wanted next to it, picked out jewelry and set it in a little pile.
My makeup would be done and my hair would be swept into a dramatic updo with a tiny diamond tiara that Mom insisted I wear. It was a family heirloom from my great-great-grandmother. She had worn it to the fifty- year Royaume Northwestern anniversary celebration, so my mother thought it was fitting.
I’d put all this on and go through the motions at this party. I’d smile and meet people. But I’d be empty inside the whole time, and nobody would be the wiser. Nobody would know that I’d lost an entire town, the man I loved, and most of myself.
Someone knocked on my bedroom door, and I dragged myself to open it.
Neil was standing there. “What,” I said flatly.
“Briana’s here,” he said. “Okay…”
“She’s making you a drink in the kitchen. I was wondering if I could talk to you. Just for a minute.”
I pressed my lips into a line and then pushed the door open, resigned. “Come in.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Tomorrow your parents are seating me at the head table with them.”
Which meant they were seating us together. Great.
I shook my head. “No. I’m not sitting with you like your date. I’ll sit next to my mom, you sit next to my dad.”
“Okay.”
I eyed him. “Okay? You’re not going to fight me? Force me?” “Ali, I’m sorry.”
I shook my head at him, annoyed. “What?” “I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”
I stared at him a moment before crossing my arms. “Which was what?” This ought to be good.
He seemed to struggle with what he was going to say. “Ali, my life is not…happy. And I’m starting to realize that’s my own fault. I’ve been really trying to understand why I do some of the things I do, and I think the therapy was the best thing you could have asked of me.”
I scoffed, but his gaze was steady. “You know, I lost Rebecca too. This wasn’t the only relationship I’ve struggled with.”
Rebecca was his ex-wife. Cam’s mom.
“Ali, you were—are—the most important person in my life. And I know that I didn’t show you that very well, but I…” He paused. “When I was growing up, the relationship I saw with my parents was not healthy. My dad did some of the things to my mom that I did to you. And I think I did them because I was so afraid of losing you.” He put a hand out. “I know that seems counterintuitive. But if I made you insecure, it meant you’d never leave. And I know that’s not right. It’s not an excuse. But it is the reason. I never did any of it because I didn’t love you. I did it because I did. And I didn’t know how to deal with that.”
I shook my head at him. “You cheated on me.”
His eyes were sad. “I know. I know that I royally, royally messed this up. I have issues, Ali. Abandonment issues, problems with confidence. I think I did what I did because I could see you getting ready to leave me, and if I sabotaged the relationship, I was still in control of how you left. It’s the same thing I did to Rebecca. I just…I have problems. And I have a lot of work I still need to do about that. But if I don’t, I’m never going to be happy and I’m never going to be able to make anyone else happy either.” He paused. “I’m giving you the house.”
My arms dropped.
“You can have it,” he said. “You can have whatever you want.” I licked my lips. “You’ll move out?”
He nodded. “If that’s what you want, yes.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what do you want? Because I can’t imagine this act of generosity comes without a price.”
He looked at the floor. “All I want is for you to be open to not hating me.” His eyes came back up to mine. “And maybe, in a few months, after I’ve figured out my life a little more, you might have room in your heart to
come with me to a few couple’s counseling sessions—not because I did my end of the bargain. Because you want to. Just to see. Because I know you loved me once, and I know I can be better. And I am so scared of losing you.”
I realized then that I recognized the look on his face. I’d just never seen him wear it before. He was being genuine.
I let my hard expression soften a little. “I’ll think about it.” He smiled gently. “Okay. Thank you.”
I paused a moment. “Thank you for being nice to Daniel that day.”
He looked away from me. “I knew you were seeing someone. I’m not an idiot.” His eyes came back to mine. “But grace costs you nothing. Isn’t that what you said? I figured that’s what you’d want to see from me.”
Something about it made my eyes tear up. It wasn’t that Neil had transcended. It was that in a roundabout way, Daniel had caused it.
Daniel was a ripple on the water. He touched everyone. Even the people he’d never met.
Neil gave me one last lingering look. Then he let himself out. When he opened the door, Bri was standing there, her hand raised to knock. “Neil,” she said, looking surprised. “You in the wrong room? There’s some orphans downstairs. If you hurry you can catch them, tell them Santa isn’t real.”
He ignored the comment, and her dirty look, and left.
Bri came in with two salt-rimmed glasses and a pitcher of something that smelled like pure tequila.
“Margaritas!” she sang. “It’s super strong. I measured the Patrón with my heart.” She kicked the door closed behind her. “So what did Satan want?”
“He wanted to apologize.”
She set the glasses on my nightstand. “Like, actually?”
“I think so.” I sat on the bed. “He’s giving me the house.” “Really?”
“That’s what he said. Also, my dad put me next to him at dinner tomorrow,” I added.
“Of course he did.” She stuck a finger in her mouth like she was gagging.
She started pouring our drinks. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in that apology. Just so you know, nine out of ten times, people like that don’t actually change. They just learn to be better manipulators, so you think they did, and then they do allll the same shit.”
I nodded. “I know. They don’t always change.” I paused. “But I do
believe he wants to.”
She thought about it for a moment and then bobbed her head. “Okay. I’ll give him that much.”
She handed me the pink concoction and plopped on the bed next to me with her own glass. “A toast,” Bri said. “To my soon-to-be-ex-husband. May he get that antibiotic-resistant strain of chlamydia.”
I laughed and we clinked our glasses. Then we took a sip and winced. “Oh, my God.” I coughed.
“Whooo!” She shook her head, choking. “Wow. My check-liver light just went on.”
I laughed, making a face.
“I think we’ve already had enough.” She took my glass from me and put it on the dresser next to hers before sitting back down.
I lay back on the bed on top of the skirt of my dress, and she lay with me. We both stared at the ceiling, in a cloud of tulle.
“I miss him…” I whispered.
She paused for a long beat. “I know.”
We went quiet for a moment.
“I called him last night. I couldn’t help it. It feels impossible, Bri. How am I going to get through this?”
She turned to look at me. “You know what’s great about Derek and his wife? I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”
“What.”
“There’s nothing in it for him except for her. Your parents hate her. His friends don’t get it. He had to move to Cambodia to be with her. Nothing about their being together is simple. So you know he’s with her because he really loves her. There’s no other explanation.” She looked back at my ceiling fan. “There’s something so peaceful about that, to just hit zero fucks about everything else but the person you love.” She paused. “I wish I had that.”
“I love Daniel more than I’ve ever loved anyone, but it doesn’t make the rest of it disappear.”
“It’s not supposed to make it disappear. It just prioritizes things.”
I shook my head. “I should be happy right now,” I whispered. “I got my house. I got the job I wanted. My parents are off my back. I’m fulfilling my obligation to Royaume. Neil is finally going to be out of my life. I’m going to be able to help thousands of people, save lives, make a difference. And I am absolutely, one hundred percent miserable. I am so unhappy, Bri, I can’t even stand it. If all these things are so wonderful and so important and so meaningful, then why do I feel like this?”
“Because you can’t breathe.”
I lolled my head to look at her. “What?”
“You’re dead inside. You’ve lost the thing that gives you life.” I watched her quietly. “Is that how you felt when Nick left?” She scoffed. “Fuck no. You’re way worse than I was.”
I snorted.
“Seriously, I wouldn’t give that jackass the satisfaction. But you? You’re a mess.”
I laughed a little.
She turned to look at me. “Can I ask you a question?” “Yeah…”
“If you could wipe your whole life clean and rebuild it from scratch and nobody would question how you’ve done it, what order would you put it in? Royaume first? Then your parents? Then Daniel?”
I shook my head. “No…” “Then what?”
I paused to think about it a moment. “Daniel. Then Wakan. Then Royaume and everything else.”
She jabbed a finger at me. “That’s why you feel like shit, Ali. You’re all out of order.”
I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
She propped herself on her elbows. “What I mean is you have been conditioned your entire life to live for everyone else. To do what’s expected of you, to blindly serve. You were promised to Royaume Northwestern before you were even born. And it’s a super important thing and I’m not saying it isn’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it. You can decide to put yourself first—you do have a choice. It’s not an easy choice. It’s not without consequences. But you do have a choice.
“If your life is this bad without Daniel in it, then maybe you need to take another look at your priorities. Derek did. I mean, for him to do this Cambodia thing, he’d have to have felt like you feel right now, don’t you think? I don’t think he didn’t care about Royaume or you or his parents. I
just think at the end of the day he just didn’t care more than he cared about
her.” She shrugged. “She was his nonnegotiable.” “His nonnegotiable…”
“Yeah. The one thing he couldn’t live without. Everything else was just everything else.”
I shook my head at her. “But…but I can’t leave Royaume—”
“I mean, can’t you? You’re going to help people, no matter where you end up, Ali. Yeah, it’s not gonna be on the scale that you can at Royaume. But you can still save lives. Derek is. He found a way. And personally, I think a hundred and twenty-five years is a nice round number to end it on, if you want my opinion.”
I sat up and gawked at her.
“What? Seriously. If you left, would you feel worse than you do right now?” she asked. “If you just said ‘Fuck it’ and dipped, would you be as unhappy as you are today?”
I blinked at her. Because the answer was remarkably simple. “No.”
“You don’t have to feel like this. You literally don’t. Quit. Leave. Pick him. Pick yourself.”
I stared at her a long moment. Then I started to breathe hard.
I wasn’t allowed to think about leaving. I couldn’t be the one to make this suggestion, because it was too selfish and too self-serving. It was a forbidden fantasy, too traitorous for me to even entertain. But the second Bri spoke it into the universe, my heart grabbed onto it and ran.
Because what if I did? What if I quit?
What if just for once I did what I wanted? Instead of thinking about my parents or the legacy or the plethora of people I’d never met who would benefit one day from me staying where I was.
My mind immediately went there and played out quitting in my head, like a movie on fast forward.
I was mentally in my car, driving to Wakan, diving into Daniel’s arms, sobbing into his neck, begging for his forgiveness.
The relief at just thinking this was palpable.
The thought that I could end my misery, stop my suffering, was such an enormous weight off my shoulders, I felt like I wanted to jump off the bed and bolt from the room. I could feel the idea getting so big and alive in just the few moments it was out, it no longer fit into the tiny box of impossible things that I had kept it in.
What if I did…
But I couldn’t. Could I?
How could I live with the guilt? With the shame? Without my parents…
Because for all their faults, they were still the only ones I’d ever have. And if I did this, they would never speak to me again. It would be worse than what Derek did. I’d be ending the legacy. It would never be forgiven. Ever. I would lose them forever.
But then how could I live with losing Daniel forever?
How could I wake up every day for the next fifty years and function like this, knowing that I didn’t have to. That feeling this was a choice, a decision I made. That I’d picked this for me and him.
And that was the most crucial part of all.
How Daniel must feel, having this breakup thrust on him against his will. Having no say in any of it. Wasn’t that worse than all the rest of it? Hurting someone I loved whose only crime had been unconditionally loving me back?
My parents had never loved me unconditionally. Never. So then why was I loving them that way? Why did they deserve that? Why did I think I had to sell my soul instead of them maybe learning to be open-minded or tolerant or just quiet about the choices their children were making?
But I knew why I thought I had to give them that…
I could hear my therapist in my head, breaking it down for me the way she probably would have been doing for weeks if I’d still been going to see her.
My dad was my abuser.
He was no different than Neil. And my mom was his enabler.
I’d spent my whole life chasing my father’s affection and approval, accepting his hurtful words, letting him get away with it. And I’d always thought Mom was a victim too, that we were in it together—and maybe in a way we were. But for the first time, maybe ever, I saw it differently.
Because she never protected us.
Mom had normalized this abuse. Indulged it. She’d made me a participant, reinforced this behavior by giving my father what he wanted when he acted this way. The most influential woman in my life had modeled this for me from the day I was born and told me to take it. She’d taught me this, primed me for my relationship with Neil. Made me believe that this was what love looked like.
Bri was right. I’d been taught to placate assholes. I’d been taught by Mom.
My heart started to pound.
It was too much to unpack now, all the layers of dysfunction and the consequences of their existence. I couldn’t think about who I’d be if I’d never been born to this family or if I’d been shown love without conditions
or a mother with the strength to enforce the boundaries she never could. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t even want to.
I just wanted out.
I didn’t want to coddle my toxic parents. I didn’t want to die a martyr on the pyre of Royaume Northwestern, no matter how honorable that might be. I didn’t want my eighty-hour-a-week job because even though it should be, it wasn’t filling my well. I didn’t want this house or this life.
All I wanted was Daniel.
Being without Daniel was worse than anything I’d ever experienced. And I couldn’t have known this until I lived it. I couldn’t in my wildest dreams have imagined how utterly unlivable this life would be without him in it, until it actually happened.
But Daniel could.
He knew, weeks ago, months ago, what this would feel like. It was why he’d been willing to leave Wakan for me. He’d known. And I hadn’t.
I had to drown first.
And I was finally, finally ready to save myself. Something flipped in my brain.
An enormous, stuck gear slowly turned inside of me, and an unmovable building block of my very makeup shifted. Daniel rose to the top, and everything else repositioned with a heavy metallic clank that echoed through my entire existence. For the first time in my life, my parents and Royaume Northwestern took second seat to something else, and the moment they did, a flood of new thinking poured out. Ideas I never would have considered began bubbling up, sloshing around, spilling into my mind. A mental clog disintegrated, and alternate pathways started to form.
And then I knew what to do. I knew it so clearly, I started to laugh. I got up and darted across the room for my phone.
Bri twisted to watch me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m calling an emergency meeting of the hospital board,” I said, pulling up my email.
She shook her head. “But—it’s a Friday. They’re not going to come talk to you tonight—”
“They will if they still want a Montgomery on staff this time tomorrow.” I hurriedly typed out the email and hit Send.
It was what Daniel had said last night. When you don’t care, everything’s on your terms. They can take it or leave it. It doesn’t matter to you, so ask for whatever the hell you want.
It’s not that I didn’t care about Royaume. It’s that I didn’t care more about it than Daniel.
So let the negotiations begin…
