Page 64 of Made for You
I shrug, as if this doesn’t alarm me, even though it totally does. “Maybe he stopped for gas? Dinner?” The idea is reasonable, but I don’t quite believe it. Josh has always been the kind of guy who doesn’t like to stop. Not even for a needed bathroom break.
“And what happened after Andy arrived?” coaxes Mitchell.
“He knew I was upset, and that it was about more than the hiking trip, and I ended up telling him...” God, I hope I’m not making a terrible mistake. My heart starts pounding so hard, I’m pretty sure they can see my shirt vibrating from across the kitchen. “Josh and I did have this...recurring fight. It’s probably just one of those things. That people fight about.”
Mitchell waits. Even Adams stops writing.
I have to force the words out. “Josh thought Andy was in love with me.”
Adams’s eyes widen, round and blue, then descend to his notepad. He scribbles furiously.
“That’s what we were really arguing about while he was packing.” I turn to refill my mug. I’m surprised to find it empty since I don’t remember drinking it. But the taste of coffee is in my mouth, so I must have. Why can’t I remember, though? Not just drinking coffee, but Saturday night. Even as I talk about it, my memories seem to move and resettle, like I’m sifting through sand instead of hard facts.
“It wasn’t the first time,” I continue, my back still to the men. “I was tired of the same old argument, so when Andy showed up, I asked him to please work it out with Josh. You know, man-to-man. That’s why they were meeting for breakfast. I think I told you that when you were here on Wednesday.” I pour the coffee. My hand is shaking. It’s a miracle I don’t spill. I finally turn back around.
“Yes, we spoke to Mr. Wekstein that day,” says Mitchell. “What I’d like to know is why you told us that the two of them were...” He gestures to Adams, who flips back a couple pages in his notebook.
“Friendly,” Adams says eagerly.
“Yes.” The sheriff smiles. “Friendly.”
“Well...they are. Were. Have been. I mean, they met on the show last year. They got along great. Andy even gave me away at our wedding. I love Josh—and Josh knows that. He just has this jealous side, you know, like guys do. He and Andy...they just needed to talk it out.”
“And?” There’s a lurid sheen to the sheriff’s question, like he’s peeling back the curtain on something obscene.
“And what?”
“Is Andy Wekstein in love with you, Julia?”
I plan on saying no. Of course not! But instead, my hand wanders up to my neck, cupping my frantic pulse.
“Sir, I’m not sure that question is fair,” objects Adams, but Mitchell holds up a palm.
“Let her answer.”
I don’t want to make trouble for Andy. On the other hand, Mitchell will latch on to anything to make sure I burn. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to draw a little attention to Andy. He can take the heat. If he’s innocent, it won’t hurt him in the long run. Not to mention, Andy has access to some of the best lawyers in the nation. I’m the vulnerable one.
“I...” Tightening my hands around my coffee, I bring the hot rim to rest under my lips. Breathe. “Yes. I think he might be.”
Instantly I feel sick to my stomach. For throwing Andy under the bus, and also because deep down, I find this possibility incredibly disturbing. I don’t want Andy to think of me that way. I want him to be the safe older brother who’s looking out for me.
Mitchell’s eyes appraise me. “Do you think Royce Sullivan loved his victims, Julia? I’ve often wondered about the psychology behind dismembering one’s romantic partner...twenty-two times. You must have wondered, too, living on his old property. Did he cut them to pieces so he could keep them? Did he feel love as his axe struck? Is it possible to love something so much you have to destroy it, just so it doesn’t ever leave you?”
My chest burns and my throat tightens, as if physical hands are squeezing it from behind.
His question is clear.
“I would never hurt Josh. If he wanted to leave me, I would let him go, free. And whole.”
Mitchell cocks his head. “Even if it hurt, Julia?”
I blink fast, trying to dispel the image of Josh in this very kitchen, trying to delete Andy’s number from my cell phone as I tried to grab it back—
“When you love someone, sometimes...” I swallow. “Sometimes you let them hurt you.”
“A dark view of love.”
Dark? Maybe. Certainly not aspirational. But the reality is, love and pain can’t be separated. Love opens you to hurt, and if you want love, you have to take the hurt, too.