Page 92 of Lead Me Knot


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“We weren’t a mistake.”

Turning off her emotions as fast as a faucet, her expression turns indifferent. “I’m asking for time because I’m too tired to fight with you anymore.” She releases a heavy sigh. “Please. I need time. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but I need to sort through this without the pressure of you wanting everything to be normal again. If you give me nothing else, will you give me that?”

Every fiber of my being screams to fight harder, but her own mask is fully intact and nothing I say will remove it. I’ll only cause her more pain. I’m not giving up, but it’s no longer about me. I need to do what’s best for her. So I’ll give her the time requested becausesheneeds it.

There’s no talking her out of the decision and I shouldn’t anyway. It won’t serve either of us in the end. I bow my head in defeat and move back into the bathroom to put on my shirt. Carrying my shoes and socks in hand, I return to the living room, stopping just shy of the door. I’m so tempted to look back once more, to take her in and lock the image in my memories. I don’t because I also need to believe I’ll see her again.

Opening the door, the sun has dipped below the tree line on the far side of the parking lot. I stand in the shadows of the tall cypress and oaks, and say, “I’ll always be here for you, Shortcake.”

I shut the door behindme, a barrier now between us until she removes it. Our lives and love are now in her hands. I can only pray that we find our way back together again.

CHAPTER 33

Lauralee

I sweepup the pieces of my shattered heart and toss them back into my chest, hoping somehow, someday, I can glue them back together. Until then, I sit on the couch, not sure what to do or think. I don’t know how to feel anything other than numb or pain. Both are excruciating right now.

The manila envelope whispers my name, calling me to open it. But I know better than to fall for this trick. Whatever is in there will only blur the lines, and I’m already confused enough. As much as Baylor wants me to forgive him, I can’t. Not yet. Not without sorting through the information of what I know and what I feel.

Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to consider his side of the story before figuring out what’s best for me. I was denied that right with my dad. I can’t allow the cycle to repeat.

As the last of the day disappears, the room darkens around me. Music can’t help, and the TV will only distract me. I need to lie in my feels. I tuck my hands under my cheek, but the ring scrapes across the skin. Holding up my hand, I realize even night can’t break the shine it brings. I’m mad that I love these rings as much as I do.

I don’t know how much they cost, the carat size, or how to insure them. I just know how they make me feel. Loved because he chose them for me. “What am I going to do?” Divorce him? Make him wait forever? Give him one more chance to make this right and promise he’ll never hide anything from me again? Can he? Or is he lying to himself as well?

I want to believe him so badly that my heart aches that he might be suffering. Even when rationale tells me he should. I don’t need revenge. I need him to trust me enough to share everything. That’s what partners do, but he keeps me in the dark until outside light shines in, exposing another lie . . . an omission. Whatever we want to call it. They hurt the same.

Despite what happened earlier, I haven’t closed the door on him yet. I can still feel him in the air around me like he’s near. I don’t dare check to see if the car is here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were.

My eyes grow heavy from the exhaustion of fighting a losing battle. I give in, hoping tomorrow brings me the answers I need to map a new course, whether that be with him or traveling solo.

The sound of rain against the window drags me from sleep. I’m slow to open my eyes. I don’t know the time, but my body doesn’t feel like morning is on the horizon. God, I hope not. I’ll be dragging all day if it is.

Lying here, I roll onto my back. Do I fight for more sleep or accept my fate that I’m wide awake? I wonder if Baylor’s having more luck. I roll my eyes. He’s probably sleeping like a baby without a care in the world. Irritation clusters in my chest, although my gut doesn’t believe a word I say.

Deep down, I know he would never hurt me. I can’t remain the consequence of the poor decisions he’s making.I need to be a consideration from the start. Can he do that? Is it even possible? He’s been a bachelor for so long that he’s never had to consider anyone else or their feelings. I know he’s trying. For me, he is. So am I expecting too much change too fast?

I put my feet down on the floor to sit up. Rubbing the corners of my eyes and wiping the sleep away, I start to wonder what part of my life I’ve given up for him.

He’s never once asked me to give up anything and stepped in without asking when he thought I needed help. He visits more often because he knows I can’t leave the shop unattended, making it harder on his schedule. He doesn’t ask me to sacrifice anything for us to be together, carrying it all on his shoulders to make us work.

Dammit.Now I feel bad.

What if he was being honest? What if he didn’t know about the rent increase? Or . . . I pause, not sure I’m ready to accept this truth. I say it anyway. “What if he married me for love?” What if he married me without strings attached? Would he have truly stood in the courthouse to exchange I dos with no other intentions but to love me forever?

Time is making me feel worse instead of better.

I get up and get a glass of water. Standing at the sink, I drink, hoping it keeps the headache I’m getting at bay. When I lower the glass, my gaze goes to the coffee table and that large envelope he left behind, which has the answers he said I’m looking for.

I take another sip, debating if I even want to open that can of worms. What if it just upsets me more? Setting the glass down, I take a chance, praying I won’t be more disappointed.

Grabbing the envelope, I switch on the small lamp next to the TV, then slide down the wall between the door andthe TV stand. With my butt planted firmly on the floor, I bend the brads and lift the flap. I dig my hand inside and pull out one of the papers. A photo.

A sob escapes the moment I turn it over and see us from our wedding day. The image blurs through the watery tears as they collect on my eyelashes. I blink to clear them, but they decide to fall down my cheeks instead. Staring at the photo, I’m left without words, and any lingering anger dissipates.

This is the moment I felt closest to him. Not during the vows, though those will always hold a special place in my heart. Not when we kissed. Not even the world of possibilities I felt when we were running down the courthouse steps.

It was at this moment that I knew he was my soulmate.