Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Twenty-One

I couldn't see anything through my tears as I sobbed in the passenger seat while Chris silently drove us home. When we finally pulled into the garage, he turned off the car and didn't make a move to get out of the car.

His hand brushed the tip of my elbow and ran down my arm until he was holding my hand in his. "I heard it all. I know how you must be feeling, and I know only time will fix this. But I'm sure that they love you."

But that was the worst part, wasn't it? It was so much easier to hate them when I thought they hated me. Who was there to blame once that was taken away? What do I have left to do if I can't be mad at them for the choice?

His hand gently held mine, as though he feared it might explode at any moment. I should have said something, but every thought that entered my brain was getting jumbled up and spit out in a language I didn't speak, so I didn't try. Instead, I leaned my head across the center console and cried into his shoulder.

It was only when his hand brushed the back of my hair down that I realized what I had done.

Shit! I flew back from him like I'd been burned and then I wished I could take the moment back as soon as I saw the hurt in his eyes.

And somehow, after all that, he just calmly folded his hands in his lap and asked, "What do you say to some ice cream? Maybe a movie or a book to go with it?"

My throat was so dry from crying and the back of my head was pounding. "Maybe some water first?"

His hand twitched in his lap before he clasped them together. "Sounds good. I'll see you inside when you're ready, okay?"

It seems distinctly possible that I'll never be ready. I'm going to need a whole therapist to untangle this knot of emotions.

Just before he closed the car door, he stuck his head back into the car. "I could stay, if you wanted."

I don't know what I want! We stared at each other for longer than I care to admit and he didn't back down, forcing me to make the decision about our closeness. What do I want? Only I can say, but right now, I can't say.

"No, it's fine. I'll be right in." I tried to smile and keep my breathing steady but my raspy voice betrayed me. It wasn't even that I was worried about him seeing me cry. Something about being married to a person makes that worry disappear so fast. No, what really motivated me was that I wanted to be done crying over my parents. They had taken enough from me.

And given enough to you, a small voice in my mind trickled through the cracks of the carefully constructed steel of my consciousness. Where on earth had it come from?

I pulled out my phone, ignoring the messages from my father, and clicked on Melody's picture. Mel, I sent, relieved when I saw the three little dots of her reply. I didn't wait to see what she wrote before I continued.

I'm crying in Chris's car. In the garage. By myself. Scale of Kindergarten Pancake Mess to The Guy At Your Wedding, how pathetic am I?

I didn't truly think I was pathetic. But I didn't know what to think. The emotions were big and they were pouring out of my eyes -- though less so as I distracted myself with texting Mel -- but I couldn't tell exactly what they were.

Finally, her dots turned into a reply. I don't think it's pathetic, Aubrey. But I think you really ought to tell him what's going on.

Another second passed before a second message popped up. Have you heard from Mr. Mattieu yet?!

I was ashamed to admit his promise of an email had completely slipped my mind. It would be risky to check it on my phone with Christopher waiting for me inside the house, so I would have to wait until I was alone in the office later. I'd make up some excuse about work emails.

I fired off one last text message to Melody letting her know my plan and then wiped my tears on my sleeve one more time before leaving the car and making my way into our kitchen. I must have been quicker than I thought, though, because Chris didn't even have the ice cream out when I arrived.

Which might have been because ice cream melts and he was just waiting for me. Didn't think of that.

My scratchy voice was barely above a whisper so I had to get really close to Chris before he could hear me. "I'm ready for my ice cream now."

He turned to hand me a glass of water, his arms open and offering me a hug. I would have rather been wallowing with Mel but she was probably busy making Paul learn to cook something, so this would have to do.

I took a step toward him and rested my head on his chest, holding my water awkwardly out to the side so it wouldn't spill. Chris's arms wrapped around my back in a gentle embrace and, though I could recognize my selfishness in that moment, I made no move to push him away. He deserved distance and respect, but all I could think was how desperately I needed something -- anything -- to hold me together.