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“You told me that what happened before between us can’t happen again. I’m trying to be good.”
“No,” she says, her hands dropping away. “You’re not.” She reaches for the Scotch bottle and turns her back to me, facing the lights as she has another swig. “Will you answer a question?”
I feel so off-balance, and it’s not just where we’re standing. “Sure,” I say, my voice barely audible.
“Why did you get divorced?”
I widen my stance, because I really do feel like I’m about to go over, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I want to know all there is to know about you. You think we know each other, but we really don’t. And I deserve to know why you behaved the way you did with me.”
“You think it has something to do with my divorce?”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “You know it does. So what happened?”
I sigh and reach my hand out for the Scotch. “I need more alcohol for this.”
She turns to face me and hands it over, watching me with an expectant look.
I take a drink for courage, knowing she deserves honesty from me, even if it hurts my pride.
“My wife, my ex-wife…she cheated on me,” I tell her. “I was never home. I was always working, always on duty. I could only provide for her, I couldn’t give her what she really needed. And some days I think I never could, even if I quit, even if I was there for her all the time. That I just wasn’t enough for her, no matter what I did.” I pause, raising the bottle halfway, my eyes drifting over the lights, trying to ignore the pang in my chest, the embarrassment, the rejection. “I couldn’t blame her either way. I never did. I was used to it. My whole life was just…one big rejection. Every time I got close to a family, I was sent away to another. I learned to not get close, to not open myself up. And then I fell in love. I was stupid and young, and I fell in love, and that was the end of me. I should have known it would amount to nothing.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment. I dare to glance at her, expecting to see her watching me with pity. But I don’t see pity. I see understanding. How rare it is to find someone who understands you. I’m only realizing that now.
“So that was that,” I tell her, exhaling before having another drink of Scotch. I swallow, wincing. “She left me for another man, asked for a divorce, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t handle it. It was like the wires in my brain just snapped and whatever had been holding me together was threadbare. I was…depressed, to put it mildly. It was hard for me to come to terms with that. Really hard.” I pause, gathering courage. “I’m supposed to be strong all the time, inside and out. But I wasn’t. I tried, but…it was too much. I never realized how much anger I was carrying with me all this time, never knew how close I was to just…going over the edge. But I did. I went over, and I lost all sense of self. Lost everything, really. And that’s really hard for me to admit.”
Laila steps up to me and reaches out for my other hand, holding it in hers, giving it a squeeze. “But you did admit it. And I thank you for that.” She gives me a sad smile. “James, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. I’m not going to tell you the things that you probably already figured out, that you are strong, the strongest man I know, from your heart to your muscles to your mind. I’m not going to tell you that what you went through is only natural when you’ve had the childhood you did. I just want to let you know how much I appreciate being let in. That you’ve made space for me to hear this.” She swallows, blinking fast. “It means a lot to me.”
I manage a placating smile and offer the bottle to her.
She shakes her head. “I’ve had enough.”
I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment, bringing myself back to where we are, and the wicked hangover I’m going to have tomorrow. Fuck.
“We should head back,” I tell her.
In some ways I want to stay on this rocky ledge, overlooking the dark fjord, the snowy mountains, those dancing lights, and just talk to her the whole night through. Lay everything out, everything I’ve kept buried inside myself, hoping to ignore. Have an exorcism of sorts.
But I know I have a duty here, and so does she.
So we make our way back down the rocks, taking our time, then to the cabin. When we enter, everyone is asleep, snoring, and we find our places. Laila whispers to me that I’m free to share the sofa bed with her, and while I find that exceedingly tempting—just to have her warm body next to mine, something I haven’t had in so fucking long—I know I need to keep my head on straight going forward.
So I lie down on the cushions on the floor, wool blankets pulled up to my chin.
Right before I fall asleep, I whisper good night to her, as I always do.
This time she says it back.
Twelve
LAILA
Two years ago
“Instant coffee?”
I stir my spoon quickly and glance over my shoulder to see James enter the kitchen.
