Tear You Apart Read online

  “Will...”

  His look is guarded, no expression. A blank. “I wanted to be with you, and I couldn’t. So I got pissed off. I don’t like wanting what I can’t have.”

  Well, I think, who does?

  But he wants me, that’s what I hear, and although it should make me feel better, it only makes me feel worse. I don’t want him to hurt. I never wanted that.

  “Should I leave?” I think I mean his apartment, but once the words are out, they could mean anything.

  “Yeah. I think you should.”

  My hand on the knob, I look at him over my shoulder. I want to be dignified about this. At least I want to try. “Should I not call you again?”

  He doesn’t answer for half a minute, and my heart breaks slowly, piece by shattered piece.

  “No. I’ll call you when I’ve had some time to think.”

  Fuck dignified. I’m too proud. “Don’t say it if you’re not going to. I’d rather you just tell me you’re not going to talk to me again than try to save my feelings or something like that.”

  His expression softens, still guarded, but not so blank. “I’ll call you.”

  I nod stiffly and let myself out. I hold my shit together all the way back to the gallery, where I lock myself in the bathroom and press my hands to my face to stifle the sound of the sobs I’m expecting to tear me apart—except they don’t come. Everything about me is bone dry.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  He does call me, but the conversation is bland as baby food, no flavor. The ocean is muffled and distant, the gulls silent when he says my name, and the smell is of old seaweed and fish, not fresh salt air and sand. I’m the one who makes excuses to end the call, but I think we’re both relieved.

  His text is simpler—a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge with late afternoon sky and clouds giving it an eerie feel. The work is lovely, even without any editing, and I tell him so. The next message is of his face, eyes covered by black Ray-Bans, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. I take a picture of my shoes, a pair of spectator pumps I picked up from a thrift shop. We trade these snapshots back and forth for the rest of the day without saying another word. Sometimes we use the emoji emoticons for our phones to make rebuslike messages that become more and more complicated, until one of us give up and has to ask for a translation. I’ve sent him one that I’m sure will make me the winner of this silly game...except that Will doesn’t reply.

  There really are only so many times when the same thing can continue to sting, so I push away the irritation and finish up my work. Naveen raps on my office door just before I’m ready to go home. His huge grin is supposed to charm me, but I know him too well. My guard goes up.

  “What?”

  “Business trip. You and me.”

  I laugh out loud, the first time all day. It feels good, to be honest. “You and me. Uh-huh. Where? What?”

  “It’s a buying trip. Philly.”

  “That’s hardly a business trip for me, Naveen. You want to stay at my house?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Ah.” I cross my arms as I lean on the edge of my desk. The toe of my spectator pump taps. “What do you need me for?”

  “Some business, for real. She has a collection. I want you to help me put a value on it.”

  I give him a suspicious look. “That’s not usually what I do.”

  “But you have a good eye. And you are officially a buyer for this gallery, and you do handle the invoices and receipts.”

  “And everything else. I still don’t get why you need me. Can’t you use one of your appraisers?”

  He gives me a look. I sigh and shake my head, but there’s no resisting him. Especially when he comes to hug me, nuzzling a little too familiarly at me until I slap him away. He kisses my cheek.

  “I told Puja I’d be with you. She’s going to call you.”

  “She’s suspicious?” That would be a first.

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, which is answer enough. “I need you to cover for me.”

  “I could do that without going with you.”

  “I trust your opinion,” Naveen says honestly. “She has some great stuff, but some of it’s junk. You’ll give me an honest answer about it.”

  I sigh and check my calendar. “Fine. Ross will be out of town again, anyway.”

  “Thanks, Betts. I owe you. If you ever need...” He pauses. “Well. You know I’d do the same for you.”

  “You won’t have to.” It comes out sour.

  Naveen looks into my eyes, uncharacteristically quiet, though I can see he’s thinking hard about what to say. He kisses my cheek again, softer this time. He rubs my arms up and down. “I mean it, Betts. Anytime. Anything you need.”

  I could break down then. Sob on his shoulder. I could let him counsel me through this; God knows I’ve listened to him agonize over a lot of relationships over the years. The only one he’s never complained or confided in me about is the one with his wife. I could let Naveen comfort me, except I don’t deserve grief.

  I smile. “I’m fine. What time, where, what am I doing and how much do you want to spend?”

  On the train ride home, I tuck my phone in my bag and pull out a book to read instead. I used to spend this time with Will. And for a long while, I sit with the book in my hand and stare out the window, instead.

  Would this be worse, if I knew he didn’t want me at all?

  No.

  Because I know I have hurt him just by being me. Oh, God, all I wanted was... I just wanted...

  I didn’t know. I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t seek this, it found me, and he was there, right there all the time. I didn’t do this alone.

  I am not the devil. I am not some temptress, leading him to sin. I never made him do anything he didn’t want to do. He was there right with me, every step, even sometimes urging me. Leading me. We did this together, so why do I feel it’s my fault, all alone?

  Pull me close. Push me away.

  And I understand, oh yes, I know why he has to step back and put up a wall, but that doesn’t make any of it better or easier. If he found someone else, my heart would break, but this is worse. This is worse because I know he wants me.

  But he won’t take me.

  Chapter Thirty

  Date night.

  It was my suggestion, one that seemed to surprise Ross. He said no, at first. Didn’t want to go out, had to get up early for work. Didn’t like any of the movies I wanted to see.

  I convinced him.

  Once upon a time I had fallen in love with this man, and I’d married him. We have children and built a life together. There’s value in that, no matter what else has happened or what I’ve done. I’m not in love with my husband anymore, but I’m trying to remember why I once had been.

  It’s easier than I deserve it to be. Ross can be charming, when he tries. Considerate. Even generous. He takes me to dinner after the movie and plies me with wine and regales me with funny stories from his travels. He’s treating me a little like he treats his clients—and I know that, but it’s an effort from him and I appreciate it.

  We talk about the girls, who’ve both grown up so well. Ross is proud of his daughters, as am I, but watching him talk about Jac’s new job and Kat’s recent work with her favorite charity, I can see exactly how much they mean to him.

  When I reach for his hand across the table, he takes it.

  When he reaches for me in bed, I let him.

  * * *

  Late at night, Will texts me when I’m asleep. I see I have a message when I get up to use the bathroom—too much wine with dinner. I think about not answering it, but 2:00 a.m. is still the worst time to miss someone. I go downstairs and thumb his number across the keypad. He sounds tired when he answers