Chapter 6
"How many times have you talked about it?" I asked.
Daniel frowned.
"About what?"
"Whether I'd make a scene. Whether I'd accept it. How much money you'd have to give me to keep me in the old house and out of your way."
"We never put it like that," Natalie said.
"But you'd made up your minds."
She looked at the notebook and didn't deny it.
Daniel stepped forward.
"I wasn't going to leave you with nothing. Twenty-two years, Claire. I know how much you've done for this family."
"So you're leaving me a house."
"It's your home too."
"But the whole future I wanted is written in here."
I pushed the notebook toward him.
He didn't take it.
"You know what our lives have been like," he said. "Every day, it's the kids, doctors, bills. We haven't really been a couple in a long time."
I looked him in the eye.
"Because I was at the hospital while you were in her bed."
His expression changed.
Natalie folded her arms and looked away.
Daniel lowered his voice.
"I'm not dismissing everything you've done."
"You're using everything I've done to explain why you don't love me anymore."
"I never said I don't love you."
The words sent a sharp ache through my chest.
He could still do that so easily.
Even now, those few words could make me forget to breathe.
"Then what are you doing?"
Daniel was silent for a long time.
"We're more like family now," he said. "I just want to have romantic love in the years I have left."
The sea breeze stirred the pages on the table.
I thought of the way he'd been cutting strawberries.
During our twenty-two years together, he'd once been that patient with me too.
After Owen was born, my wrists hurt, so he'd cut all my fruit into small pieces and leave it within easy reach.
I hadn't fallen in love with him for no reason.
That made all of this harder to bear.
"What if I want that too?"
Daniel looked up at me.
"What?"
"If you can see someone else, then so can I, right?"
He frowned immediately.
"Don't say that just to spite me."
"Why is it choosing happiness when you say it, but spite when I do?"
"You're upset. You shouldn't be making decisions right now. We'll talk later."
Once again, I could wait until later.
I picked up my bag. I was done waiting.
"Don't come home tonight."
"Claire."
"I don't want to spend the rest of my birthday listening to you explain why I should understand."
This time, he didn't stop me.
I drove out of town and stayed at the first rest stop for a long time, only getting back on the road once my hands stopped shaking.
It was dark by the time I got home.
The photo of the seaside cottage was still on the refrigerator.
I stood in front of it without tearing it down or touching it, then took out the marinated steaks and cooked one for myself.
Daniel texted to ask if I was home.
I replied, "Home," and set my phone aside.
The steak was half cold by the time I finished it.
As I cleared my plate, my phone lit up again.
This time, it was the birthday message Ethan had sent that morning, the one I still hadn't answered.
We used to work together.
Since his divorce, we'd occasionally run into each other at friends' gatherings, and whenever he asked how I was, he always seemed to want a real answer.
I usually said I was fine, just busy with things at home.
His message ended with:
"Let me take you to dinner when you're free. Someone should treat you for your birthday."
I tapped the message field, then stopped.
I knew Daniel knew him.
I also knew that if I actually went out with him, Daniel wouldn't be nearly as calm as he'd been discussing his move in June.
The thought gave me no satisfaction.
I just wanted to know whether he still cared at all—whether there really was no romantic love left between us.
I typed:
"Are you free tomorrow night? I'd like to go out for dinner."
A few seconds later, his reply appeared.
"I am. Should I pick you up?"
I looked at the words, then sent my reply.
"Yes."