“Sure you do. You’re looking at her right now.”
For several seconds he just stared at me, his face ashen.
“I realize there’s very little I can say in a few seconds to make you understand. I knew this moment would come, eventually. I hoped to be the one to tell you, though.”
“Tell me what, exactly?” I seethed. “That you married me because I look exactly like your dead wife? That you’re a sick motherfucker who decided to ruin a stranger’s life, all because it gave you some sense of happiness—some perverted thrill—to have your obsession in the flesh?”
He winced. “Anna, you don’t understand.”
I gave a hysterical bark of laughter. “Understand? What’s to understand? It was my life, Evan,” I yelled, thumping my chest with my fist. “You manipulated me from the first! You lied to me. You made me think you cared about me, but all along, I was just a face. A body… something you filled up with your fantasies for someone you couldn’t have—”
“No.”
I started at his shout. His face twisted in what appeared to be genuine anguish.
“Let me try to explain, Anna. Please.” He turned and walked to the door.
“No, leave the door open,” I insisted, panicked at the idea of being shut in the room with him. “I’m leaving,” I said, striding over to the bed and squashing down the clothes I’d thrown into the suitcase.
“You can’t leave. Not without letting me explain why.”
“I know why, Evan.”
He grabbed my upper arm. “No. You don’t.”
I paused, searching his face and eyes, trying to discern the truth. It took me a few seconds to realize I was doing it. I did it from long habit. I always hunted every nuance of his expression, looking for clues, searching for answers, so hungry for the truths he withheld. Yes, I saw a wild desperation on his face; I saw an entire universe of grief and anger.
But what did it mean, really? I couldn’t trust what I saw. Not anymore.
I shook off his hold.
“I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth. That photo of Elizabeth is all the proof I need. You ruined my life because you’re sick and selfish.” I flung my suitcase closed and tugged on the zipper tab. A piece of clothing got stuck in the zipper. I tugged at it, tears of frustration stinging my eyes.
“What I don’t get,” I bit out angrily, “Is why you tried so hard to make me fall in love with you. Was that really necessary? Maybe so. You couldn’t really imagine that you were living happily with your dead wife if she didn’t worship the ground you walked on.”
“That’s not what I was doing, Anna. I didn’t mean for it to happen. But I did fall in love with you.”
Smack.
The sound of me slapping his face echoed in my ears. I stood facing him, panting. My tingling hand fell to my side.
“Don’t you ever… ever say that to me again.”
Beneath the deepening pink hue from my slap, a muscle jumped in his cheek.
I jerked the zipper past the bit of clothing, tearing a hole in the fabric in the process. My head felt like it’d become my heart, the drumbeat was so loud in my ears. I heaved the suitcase off the bed.
“I can’t let you go like this,” he said when I turned to look for my purse. I saw it on a chair.
“You don’t have any choice,” I told him, walking past him to get the purse.
“I agree that you have the right to be furious. I have wronged you. I won’t deny that. I realize I’ve lost you. But please just let me explain. You think you understand, but you don’t.”
“Did you or didn’t you notice my similarity to Elizabeth on the dating site, and then manipulate our meeting?” I asked, avoiding his stare as I walked back to my suitcase.
“No. I didn’t notice the similarity. I hired a private detective agency to do that.”
My breath hitched. I stared up at him in open-mouthed shock. Misery etched his face.