Page 94 of Love What's Left
Henry shrugs. “At least now you admit you have wounds, instead of telling everybody you’re fine while you bleed out like an idiot.”
“You’re an ass.”
“An ass who loves you like a brother.”
“Henry, youaremy brother.”
“Exactly. So maybe my perception is biased, but it seems to me that you’re willing to fight for and forgive everyone but yourself. You’re allowed to take up space.”
I shake my head. “Sydney was terrified to get involved with me in the first place. I promised her when she married me that I’d never put her in a position where I needed her to carry my ass or support me.”
“She was wrong to accept that promise from you.”
I tap the table then sigh. “She didn’t. Exactly. It was a silent promise from me to her.”
His eyelids drop to half-mast before he gives a single slow blink. “That’s the stupidest thing to ever come out of your mouth, which is an impressive feat under the circumstances,” he says flatly.
“I love you too.”
“I’m glad you recognized the affection in my tone. Now, tell me what kind of one-sided garbage relationship doesn’t have room for you to support each other? There has to be give-and-take.”
“What exactly do you expect me to take from Sydney right now?” I ask, irritated.
“I like things to be measurable. Fair,” he muses. “Franki chooses the playlist for this drive, so I pick the next one. I stayed up with the baby when he was fussy for two hours and seventeen minutes, so she owes me two hours and seventeen minutes the next time.”
I grimace. “You sound insufferable.”
He tips his head to the side. “I said Ilikethings to be fair, but even I know relationships can’t work on formulas. Sometimes, what’s fair is that your wife’s favorite artist just dropped a new album, and her excitement about it is worth more than the satisfaction of taking your turn. Sometimes, she’s exhausted because her body grew a human and feeds a human, and there’s no keeping track of who put in what hours. There’s only looking out for each other and making life better for the other person in every way you know how to. You’re looking at what your wife has been through like it’s a weight on a scale. Nothing you’re currently experiencing is as heavy as Sydney’s current situation. But needs can’t be weighed and measured like that. Hers don’t cancel out yours. You have to put that mental load into one trunk, then you both pick it up together. No keeping score of whose burden weighs more.”
I shake my head. “Under normal circumstances, maybe, but she didn’t choose me, doesn’t remember me, and doesn’t love me.”
“It sounds like there’s no hope. I suppose divorce is imminent,” he says dryly. “Strange, considering the way she watches you with that weird smile on her face so often. It must be gas. That happens to Ian a lot.”
“Why are you such a dick?”
“I enjoy it?” He smiles as he sprawls in his chair, the very picture of nerdy affability. If anyone notices him, they’ll say he’s harmless, maybe even vulnerable. They’d be wrong.
Henry and I both acknowledge our bodyguards and scan the exits and the small crowd for threats as naturally as we breathe. We’re both capable of striking with deadly force in the space of a heartbeat, if necessary.
“This isn’t new. You’ve always tried to convince Sydney you have no needs. I’m not saying to make your mental health your partner’s responsibility. The opposite, actually. Keep up with therapy. Blow off steam in the gym. Get a new hobby. But don’t hide who you are or how you’re coping. She can look at you and see the signs of stress. Telling her you’re fine when you’re struggling makes you look like a liar.”
He . . . has a point.
I tap the table. “I know you just got here, but I think I should go home.”
Henry stifles a yawn behind his hand. “I’ll take care of the bill.”
33
Gabriel
“Where is she?” I snarl.
Sydney’s night shift bodyguard, Troy Reuben, adjusts his stance in front of the hotel elevator. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you unless she says so.”
She left me. I returned home barely an hour after I’d left the house to find a note on my pillow telling me she was sorry for chasing me off, that I can keep the house, and it was time for me to focus on taking care of myself because “I’m not dragging you down with me.”
“I have to talk to her. She wants me to find her.” The tracker in her necklace led me directly here. She’d have left it at home if she didn’t want me here.
