Page 47 of Afterglow

“No, seriously though,” he says, catching up to me again.

“What is it you think you understand about me, huh?” I ask, looking at my feet, unsure I want the answer.

“Can I ask you a question first and then you can tell me if I’m right?”

I cut my eyes to him and hesitate for a beat before saying with careful resignation, “Yeah, okay.”

“You said, when we were together, that Craig”—he makes his name sound like a curse—“broke things off the same day Jenna and Eric got engaged.”

“Yeah, that’s not a question though,” I say, feeling a little huffy and defensive at the mention of Craig. Maybe we could wipe his name from the planet? That might help.

“True. Just go with me on this. Is the way our communication started and progressed normal for you in a situation like this? Your job would indicate otherwise…”

My humorless laugh is enough to tell him exactly what he needs to know, but I answer anyway. “No, I’ve honestly never acted that way with anyone. I think about it now and am absolutely mortified.”

“It’s not all on you. I—”

“You should’ve told me to fuck off with my attitude,” I say, finishing his sentence and making him bark out a laugh.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say that exactly. But I do usually have a better handle on dealing with particularly difficult clients. But with you… I don’t know, I couldn’t get past it. If I weren’t my own boss, I’d have expected to be fired for my behavior.”

I nod, appreciating that we can both see our behavior for what it was—bad. That shows progress if nothing else does.

“Okay, another question,” he says, his long strides eating up the sidewalk while I keep pace beside him. “You never told your family what really happened with you and Craig—until last weekend, right?” I nod, and he continues. “And it’s clear—at least to me—that you never wanted to plan Jenna’s wedding. So, why did you?”

This one is harder to answer. It’s messy and it still hurts, but maybe speaking the words aloud will help me let it go.

I blow out a heavy breath through my lips.

“Did you just blow a gasket?” he asks, chortling.

“Do you want to hear the whole story or not?” I snap, but it doesn’t hold any real bite. Just enough to have his eyes tracking over my face.

“Only if you want to tell it to me.” He really would let me drop this subject if I wanted to. Which I do, but I also don’t.

“The day things ended with Craig, I’d just started my period. Indicating another failed attempt to get pregnant, so emotions were already running high.” I glance up to see how he’ll react, but he keeps his face neutral and seems completely unbothered by my mention of periods—one point for Bryce. “I told him I thought we should see a fertility specialist and get tested—both him and me—to figure out what the problem was. I didn’t understand his reaction at the time, but he got really angry. He said it was clear to him what the problem was.” I say this with a swiping motion to indicate myself.

“He didn’t actually do that with his hands, did he?” Bryce asks, incredulous. The cool facade of a moment ago cracking.

“Oh, he did. He said maybe I was too old to get pregnant; we’d waited too long while I built my career—as if he hadn’t been perfectly happy to build his without any distractions too. He said I was faulty and there was no point putting himself through testing only to be told I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

As each word tumbles out, I feel two things: near-debilitating rage and… freedom. Finally sharing them with someone allows me to accept them for what they are: lies. I’d been working my way toward that conclusion before I found out I was pregnant, but finally voicing it is soothing the freshly healed wounds in a way I didn’t expect.

“He said he couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t able to give him biological children. He was always opposed to adoption or fostering because he didn’t think he could love a child that wasn’t his. I guess that should’ve been a red flag, huh?”

Bryce’s face pinches, like something in what I said hit him hard, but he quickly recovers, angling his head to gaze down at me.

“I mean, the guy sounds like a walking red flag, but sometimes they’re harder to see than we think they will be.”

I nod, knowing he’s absolutely right. “He packed a bag, said he’d come back to get the rest of his stuff, and left. I didn’t talk to him for six months… until the day of the rehearsal.”

“Asshole,” Bryce mutters, none too quietly, and it makes me chuckle.

“Yeah, he was… Definitely worse than you.” I knock Bryce with my shoulder and a little bit of the tension I’ve noticed creeping into his body loosens. “Anyway, I was basically a heap of hormones and emotions, sitting on my closet floor and staring at where his clothes had been. And that’s when a text came through in the family group chat from Jenna announcing her engagement with a picture of her and Eric and her big diamond front and center.”

That moment broke me in ways I’m still trying to understand.

“Damn, I’m sorry.”