Chapter 2

Cheryl screamed, "Nathan Garrison, do you really think—"

I didn't catch the rest, and I no longer wanted to know.

That night, I was curled up on the couch after downing a few bottles of beer when my phone screen lit up. Cheryl had updated her social media with a photo grid—a collage of nine photos of her and Jason.

In my drunken haze, I suddenly thought about deleting all the photos of Cheryl and me. I opened my gallery, but all that popped up were work files and meeting notes.

That was when I remembered that Cheryl had once said she hated taking photos. In eight years together, we'd never taken even a single picture together.

After scrolling through my phone, the only image I found of her was a candid shot from when we were working overtime once. She'd been on the phone while leaning against the conference room window.

My thumb hovered over the delete button, but I just couldn't press it. It wasn't that I couldn't let go; it was that I suddenly realized there was nothing between us for me to actually erase.

Just then, a WhatsApp notification popped up. It was from Cheryl.

"Pick me up at 10:30 pm."

I instinctively stood up, but a wave of dizziness hit me hard. The last bit of reason I had reminded me I'd been drinking and couldn't drive, so I should call a designated driver.

I braced myself against the wall, swaying as I walked toward the front door. Another message came in from Cheryl.

"Why aren't you here yet? What's taking you so long?"

My stomach suddenly churned. I stumbled and staggered as I dashed to the bathroom, throwing up until I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out.

When I was done, my head felt a little clearer. It suddenly hit me—why did I need to pick Cheryl up? We were already broken up.

A beer bottle rolled against my foot. I kicked it away.

Cheryl fired off another message. "Are you dead? Can you not see my messages?"

"Cheryl, we're over." After sending that, I blocked the number I knew by heart.

It was still raining. I pulled my jacket tighter around me and headed to a convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes.

Cheryl always said she hated the smell of cigarettes and wouldn't let me smoke. So, for her sake, I'd gone without them for eight whole years.

But that day, I'd watched as Jason had smoked one cigarette after another in her office. All she'd done was smile at him without a hint of annoyance.

I watched the cigarette tip glow and fade. Suddenly, I started laughing. I laughed until the tears came. It turned out the disparity between love and indifference had been there for a long time.

Jason updated his social media with a cringey, hand-holding photo. No one from the office liked it, nor did Cheryl. I knew the picture was only for my eyes.

…

I had no idea how I made it home. I just collapsed onto the couch and passed out.

Cheryl came back at 3:00 am. I was rudely awakened by her smacking me with her purse.

"What the hell is your problem, Nathan?" she screeched. "I already gave you a way out to save you the embarrassment, so why didn't you come pick me up? What the hell did you mean by that? Do you know it's pouring outside?"

The moment she'd walked through the door, I was hit with a mixture of men's cologne that wasn't mine and cigarette smoke. I also noticed a few red marks on her neck.

"Nathan Garrison!" Cheryl threw her purse at me. "How many times have I told you not to smoke at home?"

I sat up, leaning back lazily against the couch. "You have a great memory, Ms. Landeau."

I paused and lifted my eyes to look at her. "But the smell of smoke on you is stronger than on me. Let me guess—Jason's Marlboros, right?"

"Cut the sarcasm, Nathan!" She took half a step back, diffident without even realizing it. "I'm out there every day working my ass off and building a career, unlike you, sulking at home like a child!"

"A career, huh?" I lit another cigarette. "So, your career involves working overtime with your precious little assistant until the wee hours, soaking yourself in his cologne? And while you're at it, you throw in a few bedroom shots? Do you think I'm blind, Cheryl?"

She flipped her hair. "We're just coworkers. Can you stop being so narrow-minded?"

I watched her little hair-flip and started laughing. Her tell when she lied hadn't changed a bit.

"So, a regular coworker would leave hickeys all over your neck? Do you get off on lying to me, Cheryl?"

"You're being ridiculous, Nathan!" Cheryl backed away again, clearly shaken. "Even if Jason and I have gotten closer, it's because you've never known how to be understanding! All you do is push me to get married!"

She always did this. The moment she was in the wrong, she shoved all the blame onto someone else.

I stood up and walked into the bedroom, letting her say whatever she wanted. This time, I wasn't going to sit there wondering if I'd done something wrong.

…

The next day, I went to the office to clear out my desk. As soon as I got there, Jason sauntered over.

"Morning, Mr. Garrison. Wanna guess what this is?"

He waved a marriage certificate in my face.

I didn't have the patience to play his games and turned to walk past him. However, he stepped in front of me and blocked my way.

I pushed him aside, but he let out a dramatic cry and threw himself to the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Nathan?" Cheryl rushed out of her office the second she heard Jason's cry. "You're assaulting coworkers now? Apologize to Jason right now!"

I watched as Jason continued acting like he was hurt and snorted. "It's his fault for not watching where he's going."

Cheryl slapped me across the face for that. "How did you end up like this, Nathan? I'm so disappointed in you!"

I hadn't expected her to hit me. She'd put so much force into it that I actually stumbled back a couple of steps.

She was disappointed in me? Who exactly was the one who should be disappointed in whom?

"Get out, Nathan! This company doesn't need people like you throwing your weight around!" Cheryl shouted at me as she helped Jason up.

"Fine. I came to clear my desk, anyway. I don't want to stay in this company for another second."

…

On the third day, I finished packing my bags. I would be heading back to my real home in Horsville.

All these years, I'd ignored my family's objections and stubbornly pursued Cheryl. I'd left a big, bustling city for a small town just to be with her.

When I went to the office to submit my resignation, Cheryl wasn't in. My coworkers looked puzzled when they heard I was looking for her.

"Ms. Landeau and Mr. York are having their outdoor wedding today, Mr. Garrison. You didn't know about that?"