From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

It’s going to be okay. I heard his voice in my head. You and the kids. You’re going to be fine. Let’s be honest, you were always the four-hundred-horsepower engine behind this family. I was just the hood ornament.

“You thought I was Jessica,” I told his back. He froze mid-step. “I saw your face that night. You were devastated that it was me you’d carried out. And honestly, I don’t blame you for that.” “Bree,” he whispered, slowly turning around, his face pale and filled with shame. “It’s okay to hate me for not being her.”

Having company in hell didn’t change the fact that you were still actually in hell.

“Dinner will be ready at six. Be there so I know you haven’t gone off the deep end and drunk yourself into a coma, leaving me with three children under six and another funeral to plan.”

“I’m sorry!” I called after her, jogging to catch up. “I’ll put on a tie. Hell, I’ll put on three ties. I’m not trying to be a dick. Just tell me what will make today easier for you and I swear to God I’ll do it.”

“Look. I’m a shit fill-in for Rob or Jessica in this situation. But I promise I’m here for you today. You get overwhelmed or feel like you can’t take any more, just say the word and I’ll drive the getaway car. Don’t for one second think that it makes you a bad wife or a bad person. Whatever you do or don’t do today, that’s for you and your heart. Rob doesn’t need you to suffer through any social construct to prove how much you love him. And that’s love, Bree. Present tense.”

“We got this, Bree. Me and you. We got this.” And for the first time since our world had exploded, I felt like maybe he was right.

I found myself feeling so lucky I still had Bree. And even luckier that I got to be the one who was there for her.

We need to talk was universal language for I’m about to stir shit up, and if history was any indicator, the universe was going to use a damn blender when stirring my life.

“You’re all I have left, Bree. And dammit, you were his too.” As he straightened, I fisted a hand in the front of his shirt. “No, I wasn’t. You know it as well as I do. I was a fucking puppet in his show, and I’m done wearing the strings.”

I was done hurting. Done burning at the stake for a man who had never given a damn about me.

Fuck them. Bree was mine. My friend, my family, and if I had my way about it, my everything.

“We are nothing like them. Do you hear me? This thing between us—whatever it is—it does not involve them. I’m not married. Neither are you. We aren’t sneaking behind people’s backs and destroying their lives. They do not get to be in this bed with us.”

There were so many nights when everything hurt and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to breathe again. But there you were. With me every step of the way.”

“This picture, Bree. It’s not what we have to lose. It’s what I’ve already gained.” “Oh, Eason,”

I want you, Bree, and I’m not waiting one fucking second longer to make my move.”

“I can’t wait any longer to kiss you from head to toe, to make you feel good and know for sure it was because of me.”

“I swear to God, Bree, your fucking body was made for me.”

Too many nights, I’d lain awake in bed, replaying the fire in my head over and over, the sour of guilt churning in my stomach because I’d thought I’d saved the wrong woman. But with my daughter on my hip and Bree at my side as we headed home to our family, I knew I’d saved exactly the right one.

Some years back, there was a fire at my house. It was horrific. Lives were lost. Paths were forever changed. But the media reported that I saved the life of that beautiful woman over there.” I locked my eyes on Bree, pouring every ounce of love into my words. “But the truth is: She saved me.”