Chapter 7
I dragged my suitcase out of the bedroom.
Alexander finally realized that I truly intended to leave. He blocked the doorway, preventing me from pulling the suitcase through.
"You're upset. Stay tonight, get some rest, and we'll talk when you're thinking clearly."
"Move."
"It's late. Where are you going to go?"
"That's no longer your concern."
His expression hardened.
"I'm your husband."
I looked at him.
Alexander seemed to hear the absurdity of his own words. His lips moved, but nothing else came out.
His phone rang, breaking the silence.
Camille was calling.
Alexander didn't answer immediately.
The ringing stopped, then began again a few seconds later.
He stood between me and the doorway, irritation spreading across his face as if two difficult problems were demanding his attention at once.
Finally, he released my suitcase.
"Let me take this. Then we'll finish talking."
He walked to the other side of the living room and answered.
Camille's crying carried through the phone. She demanded to know why he had left her alone after the wedding when the remaining guests kept asking where the groom had gone.
Alexander lowered his voice to soothe her.
"I only came back to deal with something. I'll be there soon."
She must have asked about me.
He glanced toward the door.
"She came home early."
Camille's voice rose sharply.
Alexander turned his back to me, his tone softening even more.
"Don't cry. It's our wedding day. I'm not going to leave you alone."
I stood in the entryway for several seconds.
He didn't end the call.
He made no further attempt to stop me.
I opened the front door and dragged my suitcase down the steps.
The door behind me never opened again.
Alexander stayed inside, comforting his new wife while I walked out of the home we had shared for seven years.
I had thought some part of me would still wait for him to come after me.
By the time I reached the last step, there was only silence inside me.
A black car was parked outside.
A man stood beside it with a dark coat folded over one arm. The warm porch light fell across him, making his tall figure look calm and dependable.
He was the man who had given me the tissues at Rosemere.
His gaze moved briefly to my suitcase.
"Evie."
The familiar nickname crossed the darkness between us.
He took a step toward me.
"I thought you might need a little help."
I studied his face, and a memory of a boy I had known long ago suddenly came into focus.
"... Noah?"