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"Kyle," I say quietly again as I move closer to him in the kitchen. My hand finds his arm and I squeeze lightly. "Look at me, baby."
He shrugs me off, stalks off to the back patio, sides the door closed behind him shutting me out.
He's never ignored me before.
Never walked away from me before.
Never left me...
That's the moment I feel it. My heart fracture in my chest.
What do I do now?
Chapter 58
Christmas passed in a grey blur. We went through the motions. Kyle sat by me at dinner, draped his arm around me on the couch as we exchanged presents with our families, held his niece when Audra needed a break. He laughed at the right moments, engaged in conversation, pretended everything was fine.
And, from the outside looking in, everything appeared to be fine.
But I could see through his perfectly crafted façade. He wasn't OK.
Me, on the other hand, I was a total wreck. My stomach was in knots. I couldn't eat dinner. I fidgeted the entire time we were opening presents and when Matt offered to let me hold Ava, I shook my head and bolted in the other direction.
It wasn't until Kyle climbed into bed with me that night, fully clothed, that I started to break down. As soon as he fell asleep with his back to me, I let a fountain of tears spew from my eyes. He was shutting me out. He was pushing me away. And no matter how many times I pleaded with him silently, every touch, every look, every quiet, encouraging word, he gave me nothing in return.
I woke up Christmas morning to an empty bed. He was already downstairs, helping Mom make breakfast. He dutifully kissed me when I wandered in, my eyes swollen from lack of sleep, my throat hoarse from suppressing every whimper and sob that threatened to escape the night before.
We ate, cleaned up, loaded up, drove home.
Silence. Panic. Deflation.
That's what I've been dealing with ever since.
The last six days have been torture. Pure torture.
He's kept himself busy at the Gallery. Comes home late, gets up early, banished me to the coffee shop to avoid crossing paths.
Yesterday, I was finally fed up with whatever he was doing. I barged into his office and threw his lunch down in front of him.
"Talk to me," I begged him.
"I'm fine, Jenny," he shook his head, started to open the plastic salad container. "Just stressed."
"Stressed?" I shot back. "You won't even look at me."
He let out a heavy breath before I watched him flick his eyes up to mine. "I have a lot going on here. Shows, end-of-year reports, my final semester of college."
"Then let me help you," I pleaded
"You are helping me," he cleared his throat, stabbed his salad with the plastic fork. "You're taking care of the coffee shop. That's what I need you to do for me right now."
"I'm not going to let you push me away because you're hurting," I argued. "I'm not going anywhere, Kyle. I don't care how long it takes for you to see that you're the most important thing in my life. I won't stop trying to help you until I know you're OK. I'm not giving up."
"I'm fine," he glared at me, his eyes dull, tired. "I have a lot going on here, so I'll see you at home?"
"I love you," I said before regretfully turning on my heels and striding out of his office, frustrated.
Six days.
