The Truth About Unspeakable Things, Emily Myers [bookstand for reading TXT] 📗

Julian lowers me to the ground. The heat of our moment is lost. Yet, it is replaced with something greater. “Because, Emma, I . . . I love you too. I’m in love with you.”

And with his words come a promise for the future, a future I once thought I’d never have.

* * *

We slip past the guests inside the speakeasy and make our way into the soundproof sound booth. My hands feel clammy as Julian leads me to the couch. I want to tell him the truth, and I am, but there’s still a part of me that worries about how it will affect our relationship. Of course, we won’t have a relationship if I don’t open up. It’s just . . . I’m ashamed, ashamed to tell him the truth about what I did, the choice I made. He may forgive me for lying, but can he forgive this?

Julian offers me a seat on the sofa while he pours us both a glass of wine from his secret stash. I exhale and before I chicken out, I begin.

“Do you remember our lunch at Mimi’s, after I interviewed you for The Hub?” I ask.

“Of course,” Julian nods, handing me my glass. “You introduced me to the chicken tacos, and we shared our first kiss.”

“Right,” I say, sipping my Moscato.

“Come here,” he says, sensing my nerves. I exhale and toss my legs over his lap. He removes my heels and massages my feet.

“Ah,” I moan. “You have no idea how many brownie points you just earned,” I tell him. He smiles.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he says. “It’s the least I can do.”

I nod. And he’s right, this isn’t easy. I wrote an entire article about what Beaux did to me and all those other girls, yet I can’t bring myself to tell him. I suppose it’s easier to speak to strangers. They don’t know you and you don’t know them. You don’t have to watch their face change from understanding to horrified as you relive the worst moments of your life.

“Breathe,” he tells me.

“Okay.” I nod. I take a deep breath and I let it all out.

“There was a reason why you kissed me that day,” I say. “A reason you felt the need to. You—you saw I was upset, and you put two and two together. The guy who walked in, whose presence triggered me, he . . . he’s my ex-fiancé,” I reveal. “His name is Beauregard—Beaux Thomas, and we were together for three years. We dated for two and were engaged for one.”

Julian watches me intently, yet his face doesn’t change.

“I . . . I ended our engagement. I ended it because I . . . I walked in on him with another woman,” I say.

Unlike before, this truth doesn’t hurt me anymore. This truth is only the precursor to the real pain. Still, my mention of Beaux’s infidelity strikes a chord in Julian. He breathes heavily. His eyes flash with anger. It’s then I remember what Mason shared with me, about his and Julian’s parents. His dad cheated on his mom, repeatedly, while she battled cancer. This affected Julian greatly.

“But, um,” I drop my eyes to my fidgeting fingers. “What he was doing, the pain he caused to me and so many others, it was more than the pain of infidelity.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Julian’s eyes search mine. My chest rises and falls under his gaze. My palms begin to sweat. He knows. He can see it all over my face and in the way my body tenses beneath him. His eyes beg for it not to be true. I look away from him then.

“When I ended the engagement, it was because of the cheating. But what triggered me that day at Mimi’s, was what happened after, after I broke things off with him,” I say.

Julian’s face comes in and out of focus as tears fill my eyes. I wipe them before they can fall and speak the unspeakable before I can no longer speak at all.

“He beat me and raped me,” I say quickly. “I didn’t press charges, because I didn’t want anyone to know,” I say, picking at the hem of my dress. Despite the lump in my throat, I continue. “About a month or so later, I found out I was pregnant and I . . .I had an abortion,” I reveal. I wince as the word crosses my lips.

My conversation with Kat gave me the strength I need to have this conversation with Julian. Still, I don’t know how he’ll respond to the truth or what his response will mean for our future.

“He found out about the procedure, and he beat me again,” I continue. “That’s um . . .that’s the night,” I say, running my fingers over my wrist. “I hated him before then, but that’s the night I started hating myself.”

Julian closes his eyes and leans his head back against the sofa. His lips press into a flat line. He stops massaging my feet. I wait for him to say something, but he never does. My chest tightens.

I’ve dreaded this moment since I first realized in order to move forward with Julian, I’d have to face my past. My past is tragic and stained with blood. I’ve never wanted to be seen as a victim. It’s why I’ve been so adamant about keeping my past a secret. But, perhaps more than being seen as a victim, I feared I would be seen as the monster I thought myself to be. I hated myself and I thought others would hate me too because of my choice to have an abortion. I thought Julian would hate me. And I couldn’t risk losing him and the hope he brings into my life. But Kat was right—It isn’t Julian’s place to judge me or condemn me. And it isn’t his forgiveness I need. It’s mine.

“Julian,” I say, breaking our silence.

“I’m going to kill him,” he says then. He opens his eyes and brings his hand to my cheek. With the same sincerity that made me fall in love with him, he repeats, “I’m