On the Way Down

Chapter Eight

Gravity may as well be an illusion. Up feels like down, down feels like up, and the room swims in front of my eyes for a few seconds until I pull myself together enough to acknowledge what I just heard.

"You wanted to ask me to marry you," I repeat, each syllable sounding surreal. "But you left and didn't come back? I'm not understanding."

Adrenaline is kicking in now. Is it better or worse to know?

"The way we fought that day--" Phoenix stops, seeming to reconsider his words. "The way I lashed out that day, I mean. It was all me to blame and not you. It was never you. You were sobbing and heaving at one point because of me. Mostly, you were so sad, and everything you said to me that day was true. I loved you, but I did that to you and kept doing it, and it wasn't the first time. You deserved so much more than I could give you then. All you ever tried to do was save me from myself, and I was a selfish and insecure piece of crap who couldn't even make it out the door sober to buy a ring. When I left, I thought I would cool off and figure out how to pull myself out of the spiral I was in."

"But you didn't." It's a statement, not a question. Most of the Western world knows he didn't, thanks to the photos, videos, and stories splashed all over the tabloids. He was a train wreck.

"I got worse. I was toxic then, and I was aware of it. That's why I didn't answer your messages. I thought your life would be infinitely better without me dragging you down."

His lips move, and his words make it through to me, but it's like listening to him from somewhere underwater. I'm about to be caught in a riptide.

"I need a minute," I mumble, pushing myself up from the sofa. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hallway, second door on the right."

I leave the room faster than I high-tailed it out of Nebula last weekend, before he can see the tears pooling in my eyes. Once I reach the hallway, I frantically scan the open doors. The first one reveals a room that must be in the midst of a remodel, with half of a hardwood floor laid down and new, unpainted drywall composing two of the walls. The second one is the bathroom, just as Phoenix said. I slip inside and shut the door behind me.

Focus on breathing. Don't cry.

I asked for the truth and I got it, but I wasn't expecting that. The woman in the bathroom mirror looks shell-shocked. As I gaze at my glassy-eyed reflection, the what-ifs and woulds start to collide in my mind. What if he'd gone through with buying a ring and proposing? What if we'd made it down the aisle? What if we'd had kids? Would he have continued self-destructing? Would we still be together now? What would my life be like?

A bright flash at the window pulls me back to the present. It's followed by a loud crash of thunder and a howling gust of wind. The rain is more frantic now.

"Del? I'm going to put the cars in the garage. It's getting bad out there, and I just got a weather alert about hail and flash floods." Phoenix sounds like he's a few steps away from the other side of the door.

"Okay. My keys are in my purse, in the living room." I struggle to keep my voice from wavering.

Lightning flashes again, and then there's another loud rumble. If rain here is rare, a thunderstorm is an anomaly. The hail and flash flood warnings are alarming, and are also signs I can't just leave if I become overwhelmed. Driving in this from here to L.A. before it eases up would be a stupid thing to do, knowing how the freeways and drivers get during storms.

I also don't want to run away. There's more to uncover, including what made Phoenix clean up his act after my attempts failed, but I need some time in between processing this and getting into that for my own sake. I take another minute or two to regain my composure and concentrate on breathing normally again. There isn't much I can do about the telltale red tinge of my eyeballs, which makes my irises almost comically luminous and green, but I can't hide out in here until that goes away.