Page 46 of I Will Always Love You (Maybe)

“You talk all the time about Amelia. About your marriage, how amazing it is, how she’s the perfect wife, how you are the imperfect wife but try to make her happy…”

The words are coming out in spurts, and she moves as far away on the bed as she can go. And I can’t deny what she’s saying, or pretend that she has it wrong, because she’s right. And even if I wanted to play it off, or pretend I haven’t spent the last six years talking about Amelia on every show, she could do an easy search and know that I lied. Again.

Josie is gnawing on her cheek so hard that I’m worried she’s going to draw blood. Her eyes bore into mine, and I feel that heat on my face spread to my chest. “Have you recorded shows since we’ve been together?”

I’m going to pass out. “Yes.”

Her eyebrows cinch together. “And do you still talk about your wife, Amelia? Do you still talk like you’re married to her?”

There is officially no air left in this room. I hook my finger against the robe collar and tug on the noose. The way she is asking me this, like she’s both furious but holding on to a linger of hope, makes my gut plummet. The show’s always been a show, a characterization, fiction. But there’s no way to explain this in a way that doesn’t sound truly awful.

“Yes.” I say this barely above a whisper, and now that the words have been released, I can only imagine the level of betrayal Josie must be feeling. The way we’ve bonded, the way she’s shared everything with me about her past, and her father, and her relationships. The way we share our bodies, and hearts, there’s no way to justify the fact that I’ve withheld this from her.

“I think… I think I need to leave.” Josie stands from the bed, dragging the sheet with her and holding it around her body.

Panic floods my system. “Wait. Hang on. Please just hear me out for a second.” She can’t leave. We have to talk this out. If she leaves, she may never come back, and I cannot entertain a world where that happens. “I’ve kept this private for a reason. And honestly, I think it’s okay. A lot of people use stage names, fake names…”

“Stop.” She’s not harsh, but firm, and the tone cuts through the air. “This is not about using a stage name. I already thought Ruby Reanne was a stage name. I don’t know anyone with the last name Reanne.” Her nostrils flare as she takes a sharp breath. “This is so much more. And… I think you know it.” She keeps herself covered with the sheet as she grabs a sweatshirt from the chair. “You help like a million people, Colby. A million. Your fan base is huge. You are… Your show… Everything is based on authenticity.”

She’s not wrong. I’ve spent years cultivating a persona based on truth and authenticity. And everything is a lie. I twist my fingers around the pillow as Josie grabs underwear and pants from a drawer.

“I know, I know…” Wait. Why is she putting on her clothes? She’s not really leaving, right? She just said that because this is a shock and maybe she doesn’t want to have this conversation naked, but she can’t leave. At the end of the day, this is a podcast, and what we have is so much deeper, and she can’t fucking leave. Please. “But I also say I’m not a doctor, or therapist, or anything. I give that warning in the beginning⁠—”

“No one gives a shit if you’re a doctor or not. That’s not why they listen to you.” She tugs socks on then runs her fingers in her hair. The look on her face is one that I never want to see again. The accusation, the hurt, the anger. It’s emitting from her like a toxic fog. I stand to reach out for her, then sit back down under her glare. “That first night I was here, and I told you about me writing to the show, and the humiliation I felt when I followed Ruby’s advice and chased after Zoey like some lost child—that was you. The entire time, that was you.”

Prickles of sweat beat at the back of my neck. “I know, I know, and I just wasn’t ready to tell anyone that this was me.” Can she understand this? I hope? Please? I can barely meet her gaze. “I am so sorry if the advice I gave led to…”

“Stop. Please.” Her chin trembles. She grips the edge of the dresser and keeps her eyes on the floor for so long that I’m not sure if we are done talking, or I should keep explaining my side, or if I should throw myself at her knees and beg for forgiveness. “That night. When I was here. I told you about the show and you fucked me anyways.”

My head snaps at the harsh words. No, I mean, yes, we did, but it wasn’t like that. That night, everything just happened, right? Emotions were high, and we were both searching for something, and it’s not like I intentionally deceived her. She didn’t ask me that night if I had a podcast or was Ruby Reanne or…

I stand to meet her, but she holds up her hand to stop me.

“You have let me come here for a month, told me how much you cared, shared your bed. We hug and talk about family, and I told you about my dad and my fears and insecurities, and the way that I never felt like I was enough.” Tears well behind those eyelids, and I swear I will do literally anything to take them away. Lie, cheat, beg, anything. “And you haven’t once even tried to tell me about this? I asked about your job, and you gave me some bullshit ‘editing’ line. I walked into your goddamn office, and you still didn’t tell me. Never once did you think I was worthy enough to hear the truth.” The tears trickle down, and she wipes them with her sleeve. “I literally feel sick.”

And now I feel sick. She spins and storms out of the room. I follow her from the bedroom with Kona right at my heels as she makes her way to the living room. Oh my God, she’s leaving. No, no, no, she can’t leave. If she leaves, she won’t come back, and I cannot handle her not coming back. I just found this again—a person, a deep connection, someone who makes me feel this—and I can’t give it up. Maybe this is just an argument. Maybe this is how couples work through their differences. Dear God, please, please don’t let her walk out of that door.

“Josie, I am so sorry. This show is something that is so deeply private to me. No one in the world knows. No one. Not my family, not my bank, no one.” I want to block her hand from reaching for her purse and digging out her keys, but I don’t. “Please try to understand from my perspective.”

“I am trying. I really am. Even though it makes me sick about that first night, I can even sort of understand why you didn’t say anything.” She shoves her feet into her shoes and continues to swipe off trickling tears. “Keeping some things private is okay. Of course you don’t have to share everything. But you are flat-out lying to and deceiving so many people.” She tugs her trembling lips into her mouth. “You lied to me.”

Oh God, oh God, shit. “I know I have. But it’s not real, obviously. I… It’s like a character, you know? A lot of people have characters that they play in media like this.”

Her eyes are showing me that she absolutely doesn’t care and totally recognizes that I’m grasping onto any straw I can. “It’s not as easy as that, Colby. And you know it. You can’t just wave something like this away. A million people are affected by your words. And not only that… you are talking about her. You spend like half your show talking about your wife. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Flames spread on my chest and up to my cheeks. “Please don’t be jealous of Amelia,” I say. “I love what you and I have⁠—”

The heated glare she tosses me is almost too much for me to handle, and I immediately want to suck the words back in. “This is not jealousy, Colby. This is deception. Plain and simple.”

“But—”

“Amelia sounds wonderful. If she were here, I bet we’d be friends,” Josie says, reaching for her coat. “This is not me being some insecure girlfriend who can’t handle that you were married. This is not me being in denial that you won’t mourn your wife for the rest of your life. This is about you actively pretending during the day that you are married to her while sleeping with me at night.”

Those words are so sharp, so painful, that if feels like she slapped me. And the worst part is, I know she’s not wrong. I want to tell her she’s wrong, or misconstruing everything, or being illogical about the situation. But I can’t. She’s not yelling, she’s not fighting. She’s angry, yes, but she’s also calm, which is terrifying. Calm means logical. Calm means she’s thinking clearly. Calm means she knows exactly what she’s saying. “This is way more than just sex.”

Josie pulls in a breath and shrugs on her coat. “For me, too. Obviously. I thought the relationship that we’re building could be my future. I didn’t see this ending.”

Shit. No. Did she just say that she didn’t see this ending? She doesn’t mean actually ending, right? Maybe ending today? Ending for the moment while she clears her head. Ending for the day until she comes back tonight and I cook her dinner and she climbs into my bed and rests her head on my chest.