Beneath It All (Beneath #1) (28 page)

I arrived at our house at twelve forty-five and was sitting in the living room when I heard the front door open and Noah walked in. He put his keys in his jacket pocket instead of tossing them in the bowl on the entry table like he normally did. As pissed off as I was, I still found him handsome, and I loved him. I didn’t like him at the moment, but I would always love him. That was probably my biggest mistake.

Tugging to loosen his tie, he spotted me and began walking my way. I sat on the sofa wearing leggings and an athletic jacket. He had yet to see me bald, so I made it a point to not cover my head. Maybe the shock of it would make him feel something? Anything. By his rigid body language and emotionless expression, I knew he wasn’t here to comfort me. He wasn’t here to beg me for forgiveness. I was pretty sure I was going to regret coming alone after Jen offered to be here for support. I told her no, again, because I was a big girl and could handle this on my own.

“Thanks for meeting me,” he said as he tossed a manila file on the coffee table and took a seat in the chair across from me. When he looked at me, I could see shame and pity in his eyes. The question was: were they for me or because of me? “You look tired. When did you lose your hair?”

“Two weeks ago. It was a big day for me. I lost my hair, had my first expander fill, and saw my husband passionately kissing and embracing another woman. So, the fact that I look tired isn’t news to me.” I tried to sound controlled, but I was shaking like an earthquake on the inside.

“I’m sorry,” he said, actually sounding like he meant it. “I never meant for you to find out like you did.”

I froze.
Did I hear him right?
He “never meant for me to find out like I did.” My brain was slowly processing, but the ability to speak escaped me. Sitting in silence, I gathered my thoughts, which was a challenge because my brain was still foggy from chemo and the ability to express how I was feeling was hampered.

“Let me get this straight—you didn’t want me to find out ‘like I did’? Does that mean that you meant for me to find out eventually?” I fought back the bile that was rising in my throat.

“Yes, eventually. Stacey and I have been seeing each other for over a year. She helped me see that I wasn’t happy in our marriage and hadn’t been for a while. The sex with you was great and we still had fun, but we weren’t moving forward. We were stuck in the same pattern. I wanted to start a family, and you were just getting your firm off the ground and kept insisting that the timing was bad. I guess you could say we were roommates with perks.”

His words were like a slap across my face. Is that really how he felt? Is that really what we were . . . roommates?

“I’m sorry, but are you telling me we were simply ‘friends with benefits’ during our
marriage
? Because that is what it sounds like.” My god, I couldn’t make sense of anything; I shouldn’t have been here alone.

“I guess I never thought of it that way, but, yes, that’s a good way of looking at the last few years. I love you, but I’m not
in
love with you anymore. Our relationship was comfortable and stable. But I want more. I need to
be
in love, and Stacey is that love for me. I was planning to tell you after New York, but then you found the lump, and well . . . I couldn’t find the right time after that.”

“But NOW is the right time?” I couldn’t contain my anger. “I put college on hold for you. For your dreams—which I thought I was a part of. How the hell could you do this to me? How the hell can you just brush off our marriage like it was something to pass the time? And especially now when I’m in the midst of battling cancer!”

“No, now was not the right time. I didn’t mean for you to see us. The plan was to wait a few more months until you were done with treatment and on the road to recovery. I tried to be a good husband and be supportive, but I just can’t handle it. I’m not the right man for you.”

“You had it planned?”

“Yes. I had it planned out, but cancer kind of put a little detour in my plans.”

“Wait—did you just say that cancer put a little detour in
your
plans?” He just looked at me with a blank expression, one he mastered in law school no less, as I continued, “Cancer has fucking
ruined my life
, and I’m sorry if it ‘put a little detour in your plans.’ When did you become such an asshole? Are you telling me the last few times we made love meant nothing? Because the night we shared with the chocolate cake was pretty damn incredible.”

“It was incredible. I knew it would be the last time we would be together sexually, and I wanted it to be special for you. It was all about you.”

“Well, isn’t that fucking kind of you! I suppose I should thank you for the farewell fuck?” I was livid and felt every muscle in my body vibrate with rage for the first time. “Everything that has happened since New York has all been an act? Correct?”

“Yes, I’d say that’s a fair analysis. I intended to do a few special things in New York. I wanted it to be a happy and memorable trip for you, but when you told me you found the lump, everything changed.”

“Then why did you take me on the trip to Chicago? I don’t understand why you would do that if you were going to leave me. That trip was special and ultimately devastating. When you told me how strong I was on the Ledge, it held more than one meaning, didn’t it?”

He nodded.

“The fact that I now know you pretended to love me on that trip makes me sick. You have tainted one of the most special moments of my life. And then when Dr. Freeman called to tell me I had cancer, you
comforted
me—you held me and made me feel safe. It disgusts me to find out that the last few months have been a complete lie. Any happy or special memories are now dead.”

Tears of anger started flooding my eyes. “All that remains is a dark empty hole in my soul that was left by a man who I thought loved me. You’re a fucking spineless bastard.”

“Victoria, I’m not the cold-hearted villain you’re making me out to be right now.”

“Like hell you’re not,” I hissed back at him, venom in my voice.

“Look, I know you’re angry and surprised at what I’ve admitted to you. But I’ve been honest with you today; I haven’t said anything that wasn’t the truth. I do care about you, and I tried to be there for you, but I can’t do it anymore.”

I couldn’t listen to him any longer. “What’s in the file, Noah? No, actually I take that back—let me guess.” I calmly reached for the file, knowing what it was. “You already wrote up divorce papers. Am I right?” The bitterness was evident in my voice.

“You would be correct.”

A laugh escaped my mouth, and it was a sickening sound. “Care to give me the highlights?”

“The mortgage has been paid in full, and the house is now solely in your name. Your Mercedes has also been paid off, and I’ve set up a very generous monthly stipend for you until you can reestablish your career or get remarried, whichever occurs first. I’ll continue to cover your health insurance and medical expenses until your treatment is complete and you’re financially secure enough to take over the policy premiums or qualify for a policy on your own.”

I was dumbstruck. He had it written up and had it ready for my signature on the black line.

The house was mine and paid in full. My car was paid in full, and financially, I would be fine. But I didn’t have my husband or a marriage anymore. I could give a rat’s ass about the money; I was more upset at the loss of the person I loved who didn’t love me anymore. It tore my heart out that he turned this into a business transaction.

I found my voice, knowing I would regret asking the question now burning in my mind. “I guess this means you weren’t planning on fighting for me . . . for us?”

“No. It wouldn’t get us anywhere at this point, and you already told me that you wouldn’t be fighting for it either. You were very clear in that statement.”

He moved toward the edge of the chair and rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands in front of him. “I took it upon myself to get everything drawn up so you could move on and not have this hanging over you. You have enough going on right now. I tried to provide everything so you don’t have to worry about anything financially until you’re back on your feet. It was the least I could do.”

“How thoughtful.” I wanted to spit the words out at him, but I couldn’t as much as I tried. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. “What if I changed my mind and wanted to fight for us?”

“It’s too late. I can’t. I made up my mind and already moved my stuff out.”

I paused and looked around. Everything seemed in place; however, upon further inspection, I did notice a few things had been moved around and others were missing, including the bowl that used to be on the entry table. My heart completely broke. He didn’t want me anymore. My ability to fight was gone.

“I moved out earlier this last week. I’m renting an apartment downtown near the firm. Stacey left her husband after the New York trip and has already moved in with me.” He sat upright and tried to appear sincere. “I’m happy, and I hope that someday you will be happy too. I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve done, but I do care about you.”

“Fuck you!” I spat back, anger boiling over at what he just said. “You don’t care. What I just learned is that you are shallow and self-serving, and you know what? Stacey couldn’t be more perfect for you. Get out of
my
house.” I stood abruptly and pointed at the door. “Now.”

“The papers . . .”

“The papers? Is that all you have to say?” I shook as I stood before him.

He stepped toward me like he wanted to give me a hug, but I stepped to the side. “Don’t,” I warned. “You don’t have the right to comfort me anymore.”

I moved on shaky legs to the foyer and opened the front door, showing him the way out. “I wasn’t worth the fight, so you aren’t worth a proper good-bye. You aren’t the man I married; you’re a fucking stranger, and I can’t look at you any longer without wanting to vomit. You just threw me away like trash. I’m your wife. Your fucking wife, and all you’re worried about is the goddamn papers. You’ll get your papers, just not today. Close the door behind you when you leave.”

I turned and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. With a trembling hand, I lifted it to my lips and listened for the door to shut. When it did, a loud shuddering breath escaped my mouth, one I had apparently been holding. Startling myself, I dropped the glass at my feet, causing it to shatter into a million little pieces. Just like me.

I AM BROKEN

“V
ictoria, are you okay?” I heard feet hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, and my head snapped up to see Jen rushing toward me.

“What are you doing here?” I sobbed as my body began to tremble harder.

“I didn’t want you to be alone after he left. I saw movers moving his stuff out of the house a few days ago, so I was pretty sure he would be the one leaving and not you. I parked down the block and have been sitting in your bedroom listening. I heard everything. I’m sorry.” She sounded uncertain as to how I would receive her confession.

I didn’t know what to say.

She moved closer and extended her hand to me. “Let’s get you away from this broken glass.”

I took it and carefully stepped around the shards of glass sparkling in the sunshine.

She guided me to the sofa and turned on the TV before handing me the remote. “I want you to sit while I clean up the glass and get you something to eat. We need to leave for your appointment with Dr. Forrester in a little bit, and I will not have you close to passing out on me like you were with Bobbie Jo. Find something to watch to keep your mind busy.”

A short time later, Jen placed a bowl of soup in front of me with some French bread for dipping. “I found your mom’s soup in the freezer. . . I hope that’s okay?”

“It’s fine.” But I couldn’t bring myself to lift the spoon. I had no appetite and placed it on the coffee table. Jen noticed the file sitting next to it and quickly moved it out of view.

“Eat,” she ordered.

“I’m not hungry.”

“At least take a sip. Your body needs it even though your mind says it doesn’t.” She picked up the bowl and fed me a spoonful like I was a toddler.

I was completely numb and needed confirmation of what I thought had just happened. “Did that really just happen?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it did.”

“What do I do?” My brain was such a mess, and I had no clue what I should be doing. Should I be sad? Should I be angry? Should I be relieved?

“You take a deep breath and you keep moving forward. One day at a time. Just like you’ve been doing since the beginning of November.”

“What’s the point of moving forward? I feel empty. Unwanted. Damaged. Forever broken. Who wants that? Nobody. He made up his mind, and we both know that his decisions are always final. It’s over. End of story.”

“You are needed, perfect, and strong. Anyone who knows you loves you. Noah didn’t make you;
you
made you. And you’re better than that. Don’t let him make you feel less. Power and money do funny things to people who aren’t strong enough to be themselves. They give into wants and forget about needs.”

“Who wants a boobless bald woman?” I mocked. “I mean look at me. This is not sexy or appealing. Dating is at least two years out if I have any hope of dating at all. By then I’ll be thirty-four years old with fake boobs covered in scars and a high likelihood of not being able to have children. What man in his right mind would want that?”

“The right one.”

“Why are we even talking about this? My husband just walked out the door and isn’t coming back. I’m left fighting for my life alone. But because of his chivalry, I’ll be taken care of financially, so why should I complain? This is all kinds of fucked up, and I feel like I’m in some sick dream. I can’t do this!”

“You can and you will. I’m not going to sit here and watch you give up. That is
not
you Victoria, and you damn well know it! These last two weeks have been devastating; I’m not going to dispute that. However, you have options, and you’re not pulling this ‘I don’t care, nobody loves me, I’ll just shrivel up and die’ bullshit with me.”