Page 61 of Chasing the Other Woman

Sam recoils.

I make myself keep going. “I was angry. Jealous. I thought you and Tony—” I stop before I can dress it up. “For a few seconds, I wanted you to feel what I thought I was feeling.”

"And I'd done nothing."

“I know.”

“I came running because I loved you.”

"I know that, too."

“You put me behind that desk,” she says, each word careful now. “I warned you about the storm. You ignored me. You were trying to hurt me.”

I press my palm to my chest because there’s a pressure there I can’t breathe past.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

She laughs once, broken and small. "If you think I'm sorry will fix it, you're sadly mistaken."

“No.” My eyes burn. “I know it won't fix it."

“I lost our baby,” she says. “Then I lost the work I loved. Then I lost my place beside my husband. Then another woman stepped into it. Then you looked at me like I might be betraying you.” She wipes beneath one eye, angry at the tear. “And through all of it, I kept trying to figure out what I could do differently. How to make you see me again.”

“Sammy Girl.”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracks.

She looks at me, and there is no storm I can chase, no road I can take, no wheel I can turn that will get me out of this.

“Brooks,” she says, “you broke my heart.”

I've heard tornadoes tear metal from buildings. I've heard glass blow out and sirens wail.

Nothing has ever sounded as devastating as those four words.

"I'd give anything to go back in time and change it. I'm sorry. Because, Sam, I'm an idiot. An idiot who loved you too much and not enough all at once."

She nods slowly, like it's the only thing she can do.

“I believe you,” she says. “About the baby. I believe you didn’t blame me.”

The relief hurts.

“But understanding why you hurt me doesn’t erase that you did.”

“No,” I say. “It doesn’t.”

For once, I don’t tell her I was scared. I don’t tell her I was trying to protect her. Because, quite frankly, I'm finally coming to understand that the last thing she needs to be certain of is what I feel or what I need.

Took me damned long enough to figure that one out.

“I don’t know how to repair all of it,” I say. “But I’m going to try.”

Her face changes. Not hope. Warning.

“Don’t turn this into another outcome you’re trying to control.”

I open my mouth to say something, but she stops me.