Betrayal

Chapter 13

Warren

Ella is sound asleep. I stare at her from the doorway of her bedroom. Soft light from the windows illuminates her. Her pink comforter is pulled to her chest. One arm is beneath it, while her casted arm is above it.

I'm thankful she's okay, but the guilt I feel for not being here, for being where I was, has overwhelmed me completely. I nearly cried when I reached the hospital. She was in tears from the pain, but was perfectly fine otherwise. I talked her through it as they put the cast on and told her the story of when I broke my arm when I was twelve. I fell out of a tree just like she did. The only difference is my father made me wait three days before he took me to the hospital. He didn't believe I'd broken it despite my crying and constant pain.

I grimace at the memory as I take a sip from my beer, then close the bedroom door. For some time I just stand in the hallway. The guilt I feel is palpable. Maybe if I had been here instead of being in town with Alison, I could have done something to prevent her from breaking her arm. Wyatt and Ella were playing on the beach and she fell into some rocks. I know I couldn't have done much to stop that, but the thought still comes to me over and over again.

I was kissing someone else. Touching her. Planning to take her to a hotel room. She was right when she said I had more than just the intention of talking to her. We can't just talk. There's some other force behind it, between us, fighting its way out of my body. I don't know what it is or why I feel it for her. I've only ever felt these things for my wife. And all of a sudden...

I can't make sense of it. My nights have been sleepless from thinking of her. She looked so hurt the day on the beach when I said I couldn't. Seeing her lying in the floor in the middle of her panic attack broke my resolve not to be alone with her or be near her again unless other people were around. Was I supposed to ignore her? She seemed so helpless. And now look at me.

"How is she?"

I jump at the sound of Rebecca's voice. She's walking down the hall toward me, stops when she reaches me, and stares up at my face. For a moment I think she'll be able to tell. See the guilt written all over my face. She'll take one look at me and know. I'll spill it all to her if she just asks, I think. I'll tell her.

But she says nothing.

"She's sleeping," I say quietly. "Seems okay."

She smiles.

"She's tough. Just like her daddy."

I force a smile. She knows the story of when I broke my arm. The view she has of my father is very similar to my own. She's only seen him a handful of times. It's been years since the last time and it'll stay that way. He's never met Wyatt or Ella and barely knows Dominic and Lola. It leaves a bitter feeling deep in my stomach.

"My parents are almost here."

I make a face of disapproval instantly and she smiles again. It only deepens the bitterness in me.

"They started on their way here as soon as I told them what happened."

"Wonderful. Roll out the red carpet."

She rolls her eyes and pulls me into a hug. I hesitate to hug her back, but close my eyes as I do it. She feels good, warm, and familiar. What I've always known as home. I didn't have a home before her. We've given each other everything, all of one another... and now I'm doing what I'm doing. And I don't know why. How can I do it? What's wrong with me? Why can't I find a reason? Pinpoint something? There's nothing to make me feel better and I know that's just what I deserve.

When she pulls back she kisses me, then takes my hand. I follow her down the corridor, down the steps, and just as we reach the bottom of them the front door is being opened by the maid. It's her parents. I look around to see if Alison is anywhere in sight, but don't see her or anyone else. I don't even know if she's come back. She could've gotten on a train back to Manhattan just like she said she was going to.