The Gravity of Us (Elements #4)(16)

Without writing, my world would be filled with loss.

Without words, I’d be shattered.

“Come to bed, Graham,” Jane said, standing in my doorway. It was the second time in one day that she’d interrupted me while I was writing. I hoped it wasn’t becoming a common thing.

“I have to finish up my chapter.”

“You’ll be up for hours, just like the last few days.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I have two,” she said, crossing her arms. “I have two sisters.”

I grimaced and went back to typing. “Let’s not do this, Jane.”

“Did you kiss her?”

My fingers froze, and my brows lowered as I turned to face her. “What?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, and tears were streaming down her face. She was crying—again. Too many tears from my wife in one day. “I said, did you kiss her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“My question is pretty simple. Just answer it.”

“We’re not doing this.”

“You did, didn’t you?” she cried, any kind of rational mindset she’d previously had now long gone. Somewhere between us shutting off our lights and me heading to my office, my wife had turned into an emotional wreck, and now her mind was making up stories crafted completely of fiction. “You kissed her. You kissed my sister!”

My eyes narrowed. “Not now, Jane.”

“Not now?”

“Please don’t have a hormonal breakdown right now. It’s been a long day.”

“Just tell me if you kissed my sister,” she repeated, sounding like a broken record. “Say it, tell me.”

“I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you kissed her.”

“Go lie down, Jane. You’re going to raise your blood pressure.”

“You cheated on me. I always knew this would happen. I always knew you’d cheat on me.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“Just tell me, Graham.”

I threaded my fingers through my hair, uncertain of what to do other than telling the truth. “Jesus! I didn’t kiss her.”

“You did,” she cried, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “I know you did, because I know her. I know my sister. She probably knew you were my husband and did it to get back at me. She destroys everything she touches.”

“I didn’t kiss her.”

“She’s this—this plague of sickness that no one sees. I see it, though. She’s so much like my mother, she ruins everything. Why can’t anyone else see what she’s doing? I can’t believe you’d do that to me—to us. I’m pregnant, Graham!”

“I didn’t kiss her!” I shouted, my throat burning as the words somersaulted from my tongue. I didn’t want to know anything more about Jane’s past. I hadn’t asked her to tell me about her sisters, I hadn’t dug, I hadn’t badgered her, but still, we somehow ended up in an argument about a woman I hardly knew. “I have no clue who your sister is, and I don’t care to know anything more about her. I don’t know what the hell is eating you up in your head, but stop taking it out on me. I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t do anything wrong tonight, so stop attacking me on today of all days.”

“Stop acting like you care about today,” she whispered, her back turned to me. “You didn’t even care about your father.”

My mind flashed.

Still, with him gone, everything around me has somehow slowed, and I miss the memories that never existed.

“Now’s a good time to stop talking,” I warned.

She wouldn’t.

“It’s true, you know. He meant nothing to you. He was a good man, and he meant nothing to you.”

I remained quiet.

“Why won’t you ask me about my sisters?” she asked. “Why don’t you care?”

“We all have a past we don’t speak about.”

“I didn’t lie,” she said once again, but I had never called her a liar. It was as if she was trying to convince herself she hadn’t lied, when in fact, that was exactly what she’d done. The thing was, I didn’t care, because if I’d learned anything from humans, it was that they all lied. I didn’t trust a soul.

Once a person broke trust, once a lie was brought to the surface, everything they ever said, true or false, felt as if it was at least partially covered in betrayal.

“Fine. Okay, let’s do this. Let’s just put it all out there on the table. Everything. I have two sisters, Mari and Lucy.”

I cringed. “Stop, please.”

“We don’t talk. I’m the oldest, and Lucy is the youngest. She’s an emotional wreck.” It was an ironic statement, seeing as how Jane was currently in the middle of her own breakdown. “And she’s the spitting image of my mother, who passed away years ago. My father walked out on us when I was nine, and I couldn’t even blame him—my mother was a nutcase.”

I slammed my hands down on my desk and flipped around to face her. “What do you want from me, Jane? You want me to say I’m pissed at you for not telling me? Fine, I’m pissed. You want me to be understanding? Fine, I understand. You want me to say you’re right for ditching those people? Great, you’re right for ditching them. Now can I please get back to work?”