The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (novel24 txt) 📕

certainly didn’t stay with him for so long because you loved him. You stayed because you liked what the relationship gave you,” Eva tells me.

“No, that’s not . . . that’s not what happened,” I assure her.

“Are you sure?” she asks me.

No, I admit to myself.

I asked Beaux if he ever loved me, but I never thought to ask myself the same question. I mean, I thought I loved him. Beaux told me himself I was the only one to ever love him. But I suppose he isn’t the best judge of what love looks like and feels like. Did I? Love him? Perhaps, after everything that’s happened between us, it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer that question now. Regardless of my feelings, past or present, I know I can’t be blamed for Beaux’s infidelity or violence against me. Maybe I can be blamed for the emotional distance between us when we were dating. Maybe I did go into the relationship for the wrong reasons. Or, at least, maybe I stayed for the wrong reasons. But . . . that isn’t why our relationship ended. That wasn’t the unsurpassable truth that resulted in where we are now.

There were things I liked about Beaux that attracted me to him. His smile, his style, his confidence, his determination and drive. I loved the fact that he was driven, not just in his career, but in his effort to live the most fulfilling life possible. It was something we connected on. Even when I thought the Thomases were his biological parents, I admired him for wanting to step beyond their shadow and create a life that was his own. My decision to leave Presley was for similar reasons. Now that I know what his childhood entailed, I have even more admiration for that part of him. But none of that changes what he did, what he’s continued to do to me and to other women. Mason may have found a path toward redemption. But I’m not sure Beaux ever will. And I’m not sorry that I won’t be by his side to watch him destroy himself and me along with him.

“Eva, there are things you don’t know about what happened between me and Beaux,” I tell her. “Things that I can’t explain right now. And, maybe you’re right. Maybe I did go into the relationship for the wrong reasons. Maybe if I would’ve been more willing to see Beaux for who he was rather than what he gave me, then I would have known long before that he wasn’t the man for me,” I admit. “So, take a look at Bill,” I say, leaning forward in my seat. “Examine his best and worst moments. Consider how he makes you feel. Take away the excitement of getting married, changing your name, and having your own home. Think beyond that and consider yourself in five years. Without children or other distractions, who is Bill and how does he make you feel?” I ask her. “And if you don’t have the answers you feel you need, talk to him. Talk to him tonight all the way through the second before you walk down the aisle. Tradition be damned,” I say. “If he loves you, he’ll understand, and he won’t judge you for asking. If he does judge you or get angry with you for having these questions or concerns, get out now, because marriage doesn’t solve problems. It amplifies them,” I tell her.

She nods and contemplates my words.

“But, Eva,” I say, interrupting her thoughts. “You can’t know someone until you do. You can’t plan out your life at twenty-two. You can’t know if you’ll be married forever or if the relationship will end in divorce. But . . . if you love him and he’s proven to you that he loves you, then . . . it’s worth figuring out together.”

Chapter 27

My family and the remaining wedding guests make a tunnel lit with sparklers for Eva and Bill to walk through. They did it. They got married. And after last night, I can honestly say I’m happy for my sister. And I think she knows what she’s doing, as best as any young bride can.

Bill’s best man pulls around a pink Lamborghini as Eva and Bill appear at the top of the Marshall House steps.

She made a gorgeous bride in a sleeveless dress with a deep V-neck and a bodice completely covered in ivory lace. Her tulle skirt was much simpler than I expected of her, yet the way it cascaded behind her as she walked down the aisle couldn’t have been more perfect.

I hold my sparkler high and draw a heart in the air as Eva and Bill make it to the end of their farewell march. The photographer’s camera flashes brightly against the dark night. Bill spins Eva around and kisses her in a dramatic fashion. Everyone cheers.

Eva gives me one last glance before getting in the car. Her smile is as big as I’ve ever seen it. Little lines branch out from her blue eyes. I mouth the words “I love you” and she mouths the words “You too.” And with that, the happy couple speeds down a gravel drive lit with string lights, completely unaware of the chaos they’ve just escaped.

* * *

Inside, my mother marches around, giving orders to the cleaning staff, and my father retreats to his study. I’m left alone in the foyer to watch as men and women dressed in all-black outfits zoom around my childhood home, removing any signs of Eva and Bill’s nuptials. They blow out candles and pick-up flowers. They clear plates and glasses from random tables. The more they clean, the more I’m reminded of what truly lies beneath the pomp and circumstance of my sister’s wedding—a house of secrets and spilled blood.

I make my way upstairs, admiring every photo, every scrape in the wood, every inch of memory that comes rushing back. After tonight, I don’t plan on returning to Presley. Even if I wanted to, I doubt I’ll be welcome.

I undress, removing