George

All the way to the condo, I was a nervous wreck. I barely even noticed the relentless burning and throbbing in my arm over the whirring in my head.

Lia was right. I was right. This was what I needed to do, and then I’d have to let the chips fall where they would. If Silas booted me out and never wanted to see me again—again—then so be it. He deserved the truth, and I deserved whatever came next.

I wasn’t sure I’d get through this without throwing up, breaking down, or both, but I’d deal with that when I got there.

By the time I reached his condo, I was nauseated and shaky, but determined. I went inside, got in the elevator, and I pushed my shoulders back and took some deep breaths as I watched the floor numbers tick upward. Silas deserved the truth, I reminded myself again and again. He deserved to know what I’d done so he could decide if he really wanted my help with this or if he wanted me to get the fuck out of his life again.

I didn’t even know which response I was hoping for. I loved him, and I wanted to be in his life, but every time I looked at him, the guilt was unbearable. Even in the extraordinarily unlikely event that he fell all over himself to forgive me and begged me to come back, I wasn’t so sure I could. It didn’t matter how much he forgave me if I couldn’t forgive myself, and the probability of that happening fell somewhere in the ballpark of a snowball’s chance in hell.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as I headed down the hall, and at his condo, I steeled myself again.

I could do this. I would do this. Silas deserved my honesty, even if it was going to hurt. Again.

I raised my hand to knock, but the door swung inward, and Silas was suddenly right in my face.

“You cheated on me?” he snarled. “Seriously?”

I took a startled step back, staring at him in shock and horror. “I—”

“When were you going to tell me? Huh? When?” His anger died a little, and his voice cracked as he added a shaking, “What did I do to deserve that?” As his rage abated, I realized his eyes were red and his blotchy cheeks were streaked with tears.

My stomach roiled and my chest ached. The only words I could croak out were, “I’m sorry, Silas.”

“Fuck your sorry,” he snapped. “Tell me why. And tell me how long you were going to let me pretend we ‘just didn’t work out.’”

I couldn’t hold his gaze, and I dropped mine as my shoulders sank. The words “I was on my way here to tell you” died on my tongue, because why should he believe me? Wasn’t that every liar’s excuse? I was just about to tell you the thing you just found out?

Silas’s tone shifted from hurt to disgusted. “God, you’re unbelievable. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Before I could respond, he stepped back and put a hand on the door, probably ready to throw it closed in my face.

And that was when a thought occurred to me.

“Wait!” I put up my own hand… just in time to catch the slamming door, but a second too late to remember why that arm was bandaged.

The door hit my hand and forearm, smacking right square on the bandage, and the pain sent me back a step. Clutching my arm, I doubled over, stars sparkling in my vision as fire seared its way along the freshly cleaned wound. “Fuck!”

Silas was immediately at my side, a hand between my shoulders. “Are you okay? I’m sorry—I didn’t mean… Shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” I croaked, trying really, really hard not to throw up on both of our feet. The pain sucked, but so did the renewed guilt. This man had just found out I’d cheated on him, and he was comforting me after he justifiably slammed the door in my face.

I can’t believe I threw away what I had with you.

Slowly, the pain receded, and I managed to catch my breath. As I straightened up, I didn’t waste any time because I knew Silas’s good will wouldn’t last long. Still trying not to puke, I gritted out, “I was coming here to tell you. And I can prove that.”

His expression was closed off, his jaw tight and his eyes narrow, but he wasn’t slamming the door in my face again. “How can you prove it?”

Without a word, I took out my phone. I pulled up Lia’s contact and called her on speakerphone. It rang a couple of times, and then she answered, sounding like she was flustered and walking fast.

“Hey, I’m running between patients. What’s up?”

“Silas’s here with me.”

The movement on the other end stopped. “Oh. Uh. Hi, Silas?”

“Hi,” he said uneasily.

I swallowed. “Can you just tell him what advice you gave me before I left the clinic?”

There was silence for a moment. Then, “You mean, the part where you should tell him what you did before he found out on his own?”

“Yes. That.”

Silas’s lips thinned into a bleached line, but he said nothing.

“Let me guess,” Lia said dryly. “He found out on his own.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Thanks. I won’t keep bugging you. I just—”

“Wait.” Silas straightened and he held out his hand. “Take it off speaker and let me talk to her.”

I gulped. “Lia, do you have time for—”

“Not much,” she said in a clipped voice. “Take it off speaker. And you owe me, George!”

“I absolutely do.” I turned off the speakerphone and handed my cell to Silas.

He put it to his ear. “Hey. Um. I just—”

Lia started talking fast. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Silas was listening intently.

I cringed inwardly. I really did owe her so big. Even if she was telling him right now to just cut his losses and send me packing, she’d gone above and beyond by vouching for me and for giving me any advice in the first place. Not to mention spelling out to me exactly how badly I’d fucked up a year ago. Of course I’d known that, and getting a verbal beat down had sucked, but I didn’t want anyone to go easy on me. The last thing in the world I deserved was friends who tried to make excuses for me or poured on the platitudes about mistakes and forgiveness. I wanted her tough love. The “you absolute dipshit” and “how did you not realize what a keeper you had?”, followed by “you screwed up big time, but you’ll get through this.” I adored her unvarnished honesty and her unconditional love and friendship; she wouldn’t pull punches about how bad I’d fucked up, but she still stood by me as my friend and helped me through the worst of it.

And by the looks of it, she was talking Silas down at least somewhat. I didn’t have to hear what she was saying to know she wasn’t telling him to give me another chance, that he’d overreacted, or that mistakes happened. If I had to guess, she was filling him in, word for word, on our conversation from earlier. Which was good—the more he heard from her, the more he’d hopefully believe that I’d come over here with every intention of telling him the truth.

As she spoke, his posture relaxed minutely. The anger ebbed, and though he wouldn’t look at me as he worked his jaw and listened to Lia, his expression moved toward resignation.

Finally, he said, “Okay. Thanks for filling me in.”

A moment later, they ended the call, and he gave back my phone. I didn’t know what to say, so I just pocketed the phone and studied him, waiting for him to give his verdict.

Silas leaned against the doorframe, looking anywhere but at me. Was he waiting for me to say something? Because I was at a complete loss. I’d come here ready to confess my sins. This? I hadn’t been ready for this, and I still didn’t know how to address it. Even apologizing again didn’t seem like the right thing to do. It would just sound hollow and empty; something akin to “you’re only sorry because you got caught.”

After an age had passed, he pushed himself off the doorframe, lifted his gaze, and fixed tired, wet eyes on me. “I need some time to process this.”

And without any further preamble, without waiting for me to respond, he stepped back into the condo and closed the door.

Staring at the door, I wavered on my feet. I could barely get my breath to move. I wondered if it would’ve hurt less if he’d slammed it in my face the way he’d slammed it behind me the night I’d left. All I knew was that quietly shutting it had sent my heart into my feet, and the click of the deadbolt may as well have been gunfire.

I also knew that Silas wanted me to leave.

So… I left.

On autopilot, I shuffled back to the elevator and requested the ground floor. I made it to my car somehow, and I started the engine. Then I just… sat there. Staring up at the building. Hovering in a bizarre emotional place between physically hurting and absolutely numb.

I should’ve told him.

I should’ve been honest with him.

Closing my eyes, I pushed out a ragged breath.

I should’ve just… not fucking cheated on him in the first place.

I hadn’t imagined it was possible to hate myself more than I had over the past year.

Turned out…

I was wrong.