Chapter 4

Over the next few days, Julian did cut back on his contact with Lianne.

At least where I could see it, her name stopped appearing on his phone so often. Our life settled back into its usual rhythm.

On Saturday morning, as I was getting ready to leave for the gallery, Julian had already arranged the car for me. He stood in the entryway and fastened the top button of my coat.

"What time are you done tonight?"

"Around seven."

"I'll pick you up."

I glanced at him.

"Don't you have a dinner?"

"Moved it to next week."

Moments like that made it hard to question our marriage.

He remembered my schedule and knew my habits. We still slept in the same bed, still reached for each other naturally when we woke in the morning. Our conversation about Lianne hadn't made Julian distant.

I started to think maybe he simply needed time to understand what I meant.

Then, three days later, we were supposed to have dinner together.

Around seven, Julian's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

"Lianne."

I said nothing.

Julian answered. After only a few words, he got up and went into his study.

The call lasted almost forty minutes.

When he came back, I asked,

"What happened?"

"She's still dealing with a few things after coming back to New York. And she's having a hard time emotionally."

"You helped her?"

"I put her in touch with a few people."

"We talked about this."

"I remember."

There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his answer.

"So you knew it would bother me."

"I did. But I didn't go see her, and we didn't talk about anything inappropriate. She just needed a few contacts."

Julian clearly believed that meant he had respected what we'd discussed.

What I heard was something else.

Whenever Lianne had a problem, Julian was still the person she turned to first.

And Julian still believed that as long as he had a reasonable explanation, the boundary hadn't truly been crossed.

"What happens the next time she needs you?"

I asked.

Julian looked at me.

"Depends on what she needs."

That was the answer.

Not It shouldn't happen again.

It was still up to him to decide which circumstances justified an exception.

I set down my glass.

"I understand."

"Iris."

"I'm not angry,"

I said.

"I just understand what you mean now."

He obviously didn't think the situation was serious enough that we couldn't work through it. He reached over and touched my shoulder.

"I'll be more careful. But tonight really was different."

I didn't explain again.

Later, when we went to bed, Julian switched off my bedside lamp the way he always did. In the darkness, his hand settled naturally around my waist.

Before, I could tell myself he simply didn't understand where the problem was.

That excuse no longer worked.

He knew where my boundary was.

He just still believed he should be the one to decide when crossing it was justified.