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Divorce. Talia. Tate.
I run the three words over in my head.
No.
Dated a little over a month after I left, the words scream at me.
They don’t belong together in the same sentence, let alone the same piece of paper, but here they are.
She wanted to end us. Give up. Permanently say goodbye.
I collapse onto the chair, rolling backward across the floor as the paper crumples under my fist.
Somewhere through the roaring in my ears, a door opens and closes. My name echoes through the house. I don’t move.
“Oh, there you are. I put your medication in the front pocket of your bag.” A soft hand lands on my shoulder. “What are you doing—”
Talia flinches behind me.
Dead air, thick and suffocating, seeps into the room. Her silence says everything I wish wasn’t true.
“Those aren’t what you think.” Her voice is rough, like she’s been shouting for hours.
I stand slowly, dropping the papers onto the desk with trembling hands, and face her. Heartbreak, regret, and shame mar her features, reflecting the emotions assaulting me.
“I’m no attorney, but the words read pretty clear to me.” I’m standing in a nightmare. “When were you planning on giving these to me?”
“Never.” Her instantaneous response should be a comfort. “Never. I had them drafted when you didn’t respond to my text. God.” She drags her hands through her hair. “You were never supposed to see them. I should have burned them.”
“But you didn’t. You kept them in here under lock and key.” I suck in a breath to quell the panicked nerves shaking my voice. “Was this your contingency plan? A backup in case you didn’t feel like forgiving me?”
Talia’s eyes plead with me, but I can’t ignore what I’ve seen. “See it from my perspective: you never responded to me. I thought you were done with us. With me. I was so hurt and lonely and petrified, Tate. It was a moment of panic. Then you turned up, and although I fought it, I knew it wasn’t over. Those—” She stabs at the papers. “Mean. Nothing. I love you. That’s all that matters.”
I drop my gaze. “Even if it means nothing now, for a fleeting moment, you pictured your life without me.” I look up, hating the tears in her eyes, and thankful for the ones in mine, blurring the sight of her crushed expression. “I knew things were bad when I returned, but this bad?”
She darts forward, reaching for me, but I hold up a hand.
If she touches me, I’ll crack under the crushing weight pressing on my chest.
“I fucked up last summer, but I never once gave up on us.” I hold up my wrist, twisting my arm in the air to not only show her my wedding band, but my watch. “You were with me every torturous step of the way home, and whether it was this year or next, I was always going to return.”
“And I wanted you to come home. I wanted it more than anything.” She covers her eyes as a sob works its way up her throat. “Please believe me.”
As I watch her fall apart, my insides twist and knot until I’m close to keeling over with the pain. My gaze cuts to the door as my heart and brain battle it out. The car service will be here any minute. This time was supposed to be different. We’re supposed to be parting ways with our hearts intact, not shattered all over again.
History is repeating itself.
Seeing her like this resurrects a memory I shoved deep in the confines of my mind: Talia standing in front of me, heartbroken.
But she isn’t telling me to leave. Not this time. And the longer I stare at her, I know this isn’t the same version of her who sent me packing last year.
I’m not the same man who bowed to her requests. The blow of finding the papers leaves me bruised, but if I allow history to repeat itself, to give in to the forces against us, they win.
Howard wins.
The tabloids win.
The label wins.
