Page 31 of WASP

Caroline’s answer was measured and even. “I want to talk. Calmly and rationally. And it looks like I’m in luck; I don’t see a beverage in sight.” A hint of a small smile ghosted her lips, and Annie hated that she wanted to smile too. She could always appreciate a self-deprecating dig, especially when totally and completely warranted.

“I’m not sorry about that.”

“And you shouldn’t be.”

More uncomfortable silence passed between them, but unlike the ones Annie was usually so quick to fill, she let them sit in this one, really wanting Caroline to feel how not okay all of this was.

“I guess I’ll start,” Caroline offered, heels clicking against the wooden floors as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Annie leaned against the dresser, running her palms nervously down her green-and-black plaid-covered thighs.

“I”m sorry, Annie. I really messed up. I acted impulsively, and I’m not proud of what I did to you.”

Annie listened to Caroline’s words, ears finely attuned to each syllable, yearning to hear even the tiniest hint of emotion that would make her believe what she was saying. But it wasn’t there. And she knew it wouldn’t be. Because this was Caroline, and this was one of her Caroline apologies where all the right words would be said, laid out neatly and concisely, exactly how they should be. The only thing missing? The feeling.

She cut Caroline off. “Why did you sell the townhouse and move back here?”

Caroline took a deep breath, her mouth forming a thin line—her tell that she was annoyed Annie had interrupted, that Annie had taken the upper hand in the conversation. “Plans changed,” she said flatly.

“Actions have consequences,” Annie snapped, a white-hot heat flaring in her chest at the utter minimization of the hurt Caroline had burdened her with.

“Yes, and I’m attempting to apologize for my actions.” The softness in Caroline’s voice was gone, replaced by irritation.

Annie crossed her arms defensively. “Just answer my question. Why here? Why couldn’t you let me make a clean break from you?”

“Because I don’t think we’re supposed to be done yet,” Caroline said, voice cracking. Even in the warm hue of her childhood bedroom lighting, Annie could see the blush blooming across the tops of Caroline’s cheeks in the same way it did whenever she was being vulnerable with her—a rare occurrence. “Because I love you, because I want the future you and I always talked about. Because I think you feel the same.”

Her chest heaved as Caroline’s flood of words hit her, tears burning her eyes as she blinked them back. She refused to give Caroline the satisfaction of making her cry. Annie was stronger than that.

“You haven’t told anyone what I did,” she whispered, taking a deep breath. “That I cheated on you.”

Annie felt those words like an achingly slow twist of a blade in her stomach. “Because I wasn’t raised to make a scene!” Her voice rose slightly as she tried to keep her anger in check.

“You’re mad at me,” Caroline continued, the knife rotating with each of her words. “You have every right in the world to be angry. What I did to you was—” She inhaled deeply, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment. “It was a terrible thing. You need time. I get that. I want you to take all the time you need, but I think you and I can move past this. I think this can make us stronger.” Caroline reached for her hands, taking them in hers. “Don’t throw away the last seven years because of one mistake.”

Annie breathed deeply through her nostrils, searching amber eyes silently pleading with her. She wondered if there was some truth to what Caroline was saying. At first, the shame and embarrassment of it all was too fresh, too raw, too much to handle. But then that feeling faded, replaced by wave after wave of silent rage. But even then, even when her anger pulsed through her like fire in her veins, she still kept Caroline’s secret. Why?

Seeing Caroline here, like this, pleading with her, was such a strange juxtaposition to the silent roles their relationship had held. Roles Annie hadn’t even realized had been there until she executed her post-mortem in the days following their breakup. She had obsessively analyzed every moment, every interaction, every clue she may have missed that would have indicated what Caroline had been hiding. The more she looked, the more she didn’t like what she found.

She wanted to be done with this conversation. Didn’t want to sit face to face with any of this, not tonight of all nights. Annie wanted to get tipsy on eggnog and eat way too many spinach puffs while quietly judging the hell out of people.

“Did you move back here to win me back?” she asked, yanking her hands out of Caroline’s grasp.

“Yes.”

Annie raised a challenging eyebrow. “Yes, and?”

Caroline held her gaze, inhaling sharply. “As I said, plans change. Daddy’s had some health issues pop up in the last month—you know he hates going to the doctors. He won’t be running for reelection as town commissioner this year. I’m planning to run, but you need to be a resident for at least six months to be eligible. It was always the plan we talked about—coming back here to settle down and raise a family. The timeline and order of events simply got moved around a bit.”

Annie sighed, the flashes of the life that had felt within reach a few months ago playing in her mind. They had felt so clear, so crisp, so attainable. But then that bubble burst and the illusion of their love shattered. She nodded, rolling her shoulders back, mustering all of her courage.

“I’m sorry to hear your dad’s been having health problems,” she started, her voice surprisingly level. “I hope for your family’s sake things get figured out.” Annie inhaled deeply. “I hope you have a successful election. It’s always been your dream to follow in your father’s footsteps. I still want you to have your dreams.” Caroline’s face fell, understanding dawning. “I meant it when I said we were done, Caroline. I am angry—that part you were right about, but I don’t need time to think because I know I’ll always end up at the same conclusion. That we’re done. I need you to accept that.”

Caroline stared at her for an uncomfortably long moment, the muffled party noises mixing with the finality of Annie’s words hanging in the space between them.

“Okay,” she said, her words like a whirlwind as she stepped away from Annie, her voice pitchy. “Okay—I. Um, wow. Okay. This is really happening.”

Annie nodded, her ponytail moving across the back of her neck. “It is. Because of you.” She had meant her words to hurt. Wanted them to sting, hoped they would cut Caroline in the same ways she had cut her. Did wanting that make her awful?