Page 85 of Friends That Heal Us
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is, and you know it is. And until you come to realize it, you’re going to live a long, lonely life.”
Her mouth slams shut, her jaw sets hard, and she crosses her arms. “You know my mom told me she saw you here, and you were very disrespectful to her. I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you owe me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“We’re married, which means I get half of everything.”
I huff in laughter. “Okay.”
“How could you treat me like this? Like I’m nothing?”
“You showed me I meant nothing to you, so here we are…nothing,” I reply calmly.
“Well, maybe if you were a man, I wouldn’t have had to go seek someone else.”
Wow, she’s a spitting image of her mother, and now she speaks the same words as her.
“And how is that working out for you so far?”
She glares at me as her face tightens with more anger. “I can’t believe you.”
“Me neither,” I say with a wide smile and walk away.
I chuckle to myself. There’s something freeing I feel, right about now. The things that used to make my stomach drop don’t faze me anymore. Her tone and attitude used to make me very nervous because I knew she would bring something up and manipulate it. But now I feel like I’m stepping out of it, and she no longer affects me. And god, it feels good.
I walk into the kitchen; the smell of freshly baked bread is thick in the air. Violet pivots around, and catches my gaze as I walk in.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” I say, setting the bags down on the counter.
“The bakery was slow today.” She opens up one of the grocery bags. “I might close early since we hardly get any traffic in the evenings.”
“That will be nice.”
“Will it?”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “I’ll be able to see you more.” I walk behind her, wrapping my arms around her. The sweetness of her travels to my nose.
“Yeah,” she states as if my hug means nothing to her. It used to make her smile and giggle like it did when we were teens being playful with each other. That’s what I love about us—we’re always playful and giggling like our old selves.
I release my arms from her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just been thinking.” She avoids my gaze. She pulls out the bag of potatoes and looks at it curiously. “Are you going to cook something?”
I want to push on what she’s thinking about but her tone stops me.
“Yeah, I was going to make potato soup.”
I stand to the side of her trying to catch if she’ll look at me but she doesn’t; she keeps pulling things out of the bag and my stomach sinks.
“I made fresh bread. That will go well with the soup.”
“Mhmm.”
Did I mess this up with bringing up my feelings? Something feels off, like there’s a shift in her. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The way she avoids looking at me and her smile, which is usually wide, is not there. She already told me nothing was wrong, and I don’t want to push. Maybe she’s carrying something she’s not ready to put into words. I don’t want to overthink this. But it’s hard not to because the shift happened after we talked about where we stand. Now, I’m second-guessing whether it was too soon. But then again, was it? We were acting like a couple. If she doesn’t want that, it’s fine, but I don’t want to be left in the dark. Like I was before. I’m trying to be patient and give her time, like I said I would, but this shift is taking me back to when I first heard that she likes Zayn. And I never wanted to feel that way again. But here I am because she’s worth it. I know she is. I need to give her time, but will this time affect me like it did before?
“So my parents asked me if we would be free this Sunday for dinner?”
