It Ended With the Truth

by Lisa Suzanne

  She heaves out the breath she drew and says the words that are as hard for her to say as they are for me to hear. “I want this so badly, Brian, but I’m scared. I don’t know if I could be with someone who throws tantrums and only tells the truth when he’s up against a wall.”

  “I know I’m not perfect,” I say softly. “But I’ve changed. Because of you. You make me want to be a better man.”

  “I’m sure you have, but it’s not just that.” She lays her hands flat on the table in front of her, and my chest aches at the clear symbolism of that single motion as I prepare for her next words. “I’ve been legally single for less than seventy-two hours. The ink is barely dry on the paperwork.” She stares down at her hands, and I watch as redness creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. It’s not a blush. It’s emotion. It’s pain and hurt. It’s need and desire, but it’s also quashing those feelings at the root. “I just need a little time to figure myself out before I can commit to anything.”

  “I never stopped loving you.” I don’t know why those are my words. It’s my desperate attempt at getting her to change her mind and tell me she wants to be with me.

  She shuts her eyes tightly and squeezes them for a beat before she responds. “I never stopped, either.” She says the words softly, and then she opens her eyes and looks at me. They glisten with tears. “Of course I still love you. But that doesn’t magically fix everything.” She rubs her chest like it hurts. “I want this to work with you. I’ve never felt anything like this, not with Trent, not with anybody else, but I don’t want you to be the rebound I cling to because my marriage ended.”

  I nod as if I understand, but I don’t. I don’t get why I can’t be the one who helps her through this, why I can’t stay by her side and hold her close through the night as she talks and I consume her fears and doubts for her. That’s what people do when they’re in love, when they see a future together.

  But they also respect the other’s wishes. They believe in the institution and know when the time is right, everything will land just as it should.

  They let go when they need to let go.

  And she’s telling me she needs me to let go right now. Not forever...but for now.

  I blow out a breath and stand. “Vivian, you fill my entire heart to the point that it hurts. The only relief I’ve felt since I asked you to leave my house six months ago was when I took you in my arms down in the lobby and again right there.” I point to the spot in the kitchen where we stood. I hold my hand over my heart. “And I will wait until you’re ready for me.” I turn toward the door and twist the doorknob to show myself out.

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” she says behind me. The emotion in her voice breaks my heart.

  I shake my head, the bag of gifts forgotten for now on the floor of the condo somewhere. I don’t turn around. “You’re worth it, and I’ll be here. I promise.”

  chapter nineteen

  I head to the office a little early on Monday morning, mostly because I know I’ll see Vivian today. She didn’t text or call last night, and I can’t help but wonder if she looked at what was in the bag. I tend to think she didn’t, because if she did, she’d certainly have had something to say—especially after looking at the notes I included.

  She appears in my doorway at exactly eight o’clock—not a second early or late. She’s gorgeous this morning despite the slightly puffy eyes that make me think she was up too late.

  “Good morning,” I say, glancing up from my laptop where I’m reading through the most recent report. She created a slightly new system of organization while I was gone, and truth be told, it’s much better than mine was.

  “Morning,” she says quietly. She stays in the doorway.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She lifts a shoulder. “Not really.”

  I clear my throat. “What can I do?”

  She studies me, and then she says, “Let’s just do what we did when you were training me. Let’s put our feelings on the backburner while we catch up on Ashmark. Let’s save the other stuff for when we’re not here.”

  I nod. “Deal. But I do have one question.”

  “What?”

  “Did you open the bag I left?”

  She shakes her head and then steps into the office. “I felt like it was something I should do with you there.”

  The bag isn’t with her this morning, so I take it as a good sign she’ll at least invite me back so she can open it. I think about telling her to go ahead with it, but I stop myself when I realize that’ll give her an out. I don’t want to give her an out.

  I nod toward the chair on the other side of my desk, and she sits. “What did I miss while I was gone?” I ask.

  She chuckles. “Well, you missed the IT security update, the creation of the new data reporting system I put in place due to that update, transferring all the old data into the new format, Dean in marketing getting fired after multiple women filed harassment claims, and, oh, I got a divorce.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Divorce. I told you yesterday. Remember?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, I remember. Dean was fired?”

  She nods. “Allegedly he got a little too handsy a few too many times, and Ashmark takes a strong stance on respect in the workplace.”

  “I warned him off of you,” I say.

  “You what?” she asks, her brow furrowing.

  “He had this look in his eye like he wanted you in his bed after you came to that first meeting with me. I told him you were married.”

  “You did?”

  I nod, and she looks somewhere between horrified and thankful it wasn’t her making these allegations against him.

  She clears her throat. “Thank you.”

  I nod again. “He didn’t deserve you. I don’t, either, just for the record.”

  The redness creeps into her chest and up her neck. “Let’s just focus on what we’re here to do, okay?”

  I nod. “Yes, ma’am.” We discuss spreadsheets and numbers before we go to the daily IT meeting, and then I have to head out to meet Keith, whose wife had the babies three weeks ago, to review accounting for the tour and finalize a few other details.

  Before I leave for the day, Vivian sits in my desk chair and faces my computer screen, not me. Just as I’m about to walk through the office door to leave, she says, “Today’s my last day at Ashmark.”

  I figured it was coming. I’m back now, and she was just a temporary replacement for me while I was away.

  I don’t want her to leave, though. I don’t want to face knowing I won’t see her every day in my office.

  But it’s not my choice.

  “What will you do next?” I ask.

  “I’ve been working two other jobs as I’ve been working here—which was the reason I asked Mark to arrange a ride for me to and from work, so I could chip away at those during the commute, and I was hired to consult with a company down in Chula Vista. I’ll be heading down there on Wednesday for ten days.”

  Ten days where I won’t be in the same vicinity as her. Ten days where she’ll be nearly three hours south of me. I breathe out a heavy sigh even as I remember a conversation we had once upon a time about traveling for work. If anyone gets it, it’s me...the guy who just spent six weeks away for a job.

  Our potential relationship continues to be put on hold because of work obligations, but it’s something we both understand—unlike the people in our past. I won’t stop her from her job, but I don’t have to like it.

  “Okay,” I finally say. “Thank you for your hard work here. You’ve made some innovations that will benefit this company well into the future. Best wishes on your Chula Vista endeavor.” I know my tone is stiff and robotic, but I’m just trying to abide by her wishes even though I want to scream and kick my feet and throw a tantrum that she’s leaving me...again.

  “Thank you.”

  I stand in my doorway for a beat, but I can’t think of anything else to say. With those as our parting words, I head ou
t to meet Keith.

  * * *

  I tug mindlessly at my dick as I stare at the small screen of my phone watching two chicks going at it later that night. It’s not doing it for me. I’m sad she’s leaving, sad I agreed to wait around. I feel like I should be fighting for her, but I’m confused as to whether those are my old instincts I’m attempting to change or if those are the new ones I should hold onto tightly.

  I shut off the video when I realize I’m not even enjoying the act of masturbation. I’m back to living in indifference, in the land of gray where I briefly saw color again. I clean up and head out to the family room, where I find my brother and his wife cuddling on the couch as they watch some documentary on Netflix. An enormous Christmas tree decorated with what seems to be thousands of ornaments twinkles with glowing white lights in the corner of the room, the only light on besides the television.

  Mark pauses the show when I walk in. “You talk to her yet?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “And?” Reese sits up and looks like she’s about to start clapping her hands in excitement as her eyes light up.

  “And nothing. She’s divorced but she can’t just jump into the next relationship. She needs time.” I put air quotes around the last two words to indicate they’re her words, not mine.

  “Understandable if she went through a divorce, don’t you think?” Reese asks.

  “Yeah, I guess. I told her I’d wait until she was ready.”

  “How long will that be?” Mark asks.

  I shrug. “How should I know? Might be a week, might be forever.”

  “And you’re willing to wait?” Reese asks. “Man, you’ve fallen hard for this one.”

  I nod sadly and turn my eyes toward the screen as I slide into one of the comfortable recliners. “Yeah, I have.”

  They turn the documentary back on, but I interrupt a minute later. “Did you know about the divorce?” I ask my brother.

  He pauses the show again and presses his lips together before he answers, and I already know what he’s going to say. “Maybe.”

  Reese smacks him in the arm.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

  “It wasn’t my news to tell, but I heard it from Vick. It’s why I called her in as your temp. We had a little heart to heart a day or two after she started at Ashmark. She told me she’s in love with you, but that it was complicated. She said she was just trying to make it to the actual day when it was legal. She mentioned her husband was dicking her around a little.”

  “Ex-husband,” Reese corrects.

  “Right.” He nods. “Ex. She specifically told me she would be the one to tell you when you got back from the tour.”

  “Why didn’t she just tell him as soon as she saw him?” Reese asks Mark.

  “Vick said her lawyer told Vivian not to get involved with anyone until things were finalized so he couldn’t throw out more infidelity claims.” He glances over at me and seems to brace himself for my reaction. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I did everything I could to throw her in front of you short of going back on my promise to her I wouldn’t say anything. You must have known I would never try to tempt a married woman out of her marriage.”

  I’m not surprised he knew all along. He seemingly knows everything, and he’s never been one to spread gossip. I want to be a little angry he didn’t tell me, but I’m too emotionally exhausted to feel anything. “It’s done. Knowing wouldn’t have changed anything anyway.”

  Both Mark and Reese look over at me in surprise, and I roll my eyes.

  “What?” I ask.

  “That’s it? It’s done? You’re moving on?” Reese asks. “No revenge plots against Mark, no angry words or yelling? No throwing punches?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I guess I’m a changed man.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century,” Reese mutters, and I can’t help my chuckle. Mark laughs, too—boisterously—and I join him. Soon we’re all laughing hysterically as we look at just how far I’ve actually come all because of one woman.

  Once the laughing calms, they put the documentary back on. I’m scrolling mindlessly on Instagram when a text comes through from Vivian.

  Vivian: No reports from me in your inbox, but I felt compelled to text you at the same time as usual anyway.

  Me: I’m glad you did. I’m thinking about you.

  Vivian: I’m thinking about you, too.

  Me: Good things, I hope.

  Vivian: Yes, good things. I have a confession.

  Me: I’m listening.

  She types for a long time.

  Vivian: I never wanted you to call me Viv because that’s what Trent always called me. At first it felt like a betrayal because I liked how my name rolled off your tongue. I fell asleep with your voice on a comforting repeat as you said my name. And that was when I knew I had to put a wall between us. Every single time you called me Viv after that, I fell a little more for you and at the same time, I got more and more angry at myself for having feelings when I was married, no matter how dead that marriage was.

  Me: You said it once and voiced the thoughts already in my head: Love wasn’t a choice for us. It happened, and we were both powerless to stop it. I have a confession, too.

  Vivian: I’m listening.

  I chuckle at her plagiarized response, and both Mark and Reese glance over at me. I’m too invested in my text conversation to acknowledge them, and they turn back to their documentary as I draw in a deep breath and get ready to tell her the thing I’ve finally figured out for myself.

  Me: The Latin root word “viv” means life or alive. The very first second I spotted you, I felt alive again. I felt life in the pit of my stomach, racing across my chest, climbing up my spine. Where indifference resided before, you brought life again. I didn’t realize it at first, but I think that’s why the nickname slipped out. And I saw how it lit a fire in you, so I kept doing it just to see that fiery side of you. You’re always the consummate professional so any time I could throw you off your game, I took full advantage.

  Vivian: I think that might be the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.

  Me: I want to see you.

  I refrain from telling her I want to hold her in my arms as I whisper to her everything that’s been in my heart.

  Vivian: I’m already in Chula Vista. I’m starting tomorrow instead of Wednesday. I ran home right after work, packed a bag, and headed down.

  Me: Can I see you when you get back?

  Vivian: I’d like that.

  All I can do is hope the next ten days are enough for her to be ready to move on, because I’m not sure how much longer I can deal with being apart from her.

  Me: Looking forward to it.

  Vivian: Same. I have an early morning so I better say goodnight.

  Me: Goodnight, Viv.

  Vivian: Goodnight, Brian.

  I blow out a breath, and when I look up after rereading our conversation, my eyes meet Reese’s. She’s grinning ear to ear, and when my eyes move to her husband sitting beside her, I find he’s also grinning as he stares at me.

  “Was that her?” Reese asks.

  I roll my eyes and push the foot of the recliner down. “Yes, and that’s all you’re getting from me.” I move to get up, but my eyes catch the lights of the Christmas tree again, and I suddenly have a brilliant idea.

  “Mark, can you help me with something?” I ask.

  “Of course,” he says.

  I tell him my plan. He smiles as he says he’ll see what he can do, and that tells me I’m finally doing something right.

  chapter twenty

  Her nightly text messages have given me hope, but waiting for Vivian to get back is like a rare form of torture.

  That first night was the confession about her nickname. Another night she confessed she wishes she’d spent some time making her apartment feel more like a home even though it’s a temporary living situation. She also confessed out of the clear blue she isn’t sure she really loves he
r job anymore. She was honest with me when she said it was a contributing factor to her failed marriage, but she also stressed it wasn’t the only factor.

  And then there was the night she told me she tried white wine just to change things up, but she’ll always prefer the red. That right there was a sign to me she’s ready to move on from her past. She gave it a try, but she’s ultimately the same person on the inside. The commitment type, not the one fun night type.

  Every text she sends pushes me deeper in love with her to the point that she’s all I think about. And that’s why I’ve been using every spare moment I have to work on an epic surprise for when she gets back.

  I thought about heading to Chula Vista to visit her, but I know she’s working day and night. She texts me right before bed, we go back and forth for five or ten minutes, and that’s it. I want to see her, but I’m trying to give her the space she needs.

  So instead of skipping town for the weekend to see her, I busy myself with tasks like looking at houses for sale on the beach and finding Christmas gifts for my family members who already have everything they could possibly ever want—or have enough money to buy it themselves.

  My realtor is disappointed when I don’t put any offers in, but something holds me back. Maybe I want Vivian’s opinion, or maybe I’m not completely sure I’m ready to buy a house here yet. It’s just so...permanent. Buying a house is admitting I failed in my business ventures with my friends, and I’m not ready for that.

  Once I’ve got a decent handle on gifts for my family members, I head in search of a particular store. I know exactly what I want to get for Vivian, but there’s just one little problem. I don’t know what it’s called.

  I find some chain beauty store, and one of the girls working there swarms me the second I walk through the doors.

  “Can I help you find something?” she asks.