Chapter 4

By seven the next morning, Luke had sent six messages.

You’ve made your point.

Come home so we can talk.

We shouldn’t throw away nine years over one bad night.

Not one of them said he was sorry.

He still thought I was punishing him. That I had packed a suitcase to frighten him and would return once he had suffered enough.

Julia found me sitting on the edge of her guest bed.

“You don’t have to go to work.”

“Yes, I do.”

I needed one part of my life to continue without Luke deciding whether it mattered.

At the library, my coworker Emma noticed my bare hand while we sorted returned books.

“No ring?”

My first instinct was to say I had forgotten it.

Instead, I said, “Luke and I are separated.”

The words hurt, but they also felt clean.

At three that afternoon, Luke walked into the library carrying a coffee and a wrapped package.

He looked exhausted.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m working.”

“Five minutes.”

He held out the coffee. It was the exact drink I ordered every Saturday.

I didn’t take it.

Then he offered me the package. “I bought this weeks ago. I didn’t forget your birthday.”

Through the torn edge of the paper, I saw the leather cover of a novel I had loved since childhood.

For one dangerous second, I remembered all the reasons I had married him.

Then I remembered his empty chair.

“Remembering my birthday wasn’t the same as showing up for it.”

“I made a mistake.”

“You made a choice.”

He lowered the gift. “Are we going to keep arguing over the same words?”

“No. Let’s talk about the photograph.”

His expression changed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you planned to marry Megan?”

“Because we were seventeen.”

“You planned a house. Children. A life.”

“And none of it happened.”

“Because she left.”

“Because we grew up.”

“Megan said she left.”

Luke looked away.

I stepped closer, keeping my voice low. “Did you wait for her to come back?”

“For a while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You remember.”

“A couple of years,” he admitted. “But then I met you.”

I had known him during those years. I had listened while he talked about Megan. I had watched him recover.

I just hadn’t known he was waiting for her.

“You keep calling it the past,” I said, “while letting it control what you do in the present.”

“I helped her put together one bed.”

“You returned to the role you had with her the moment she came back.”

“She’s alone.”

“And I was your wife.”

“You still are.”

His certainty made my chest ache.

He believed the title would survive anything he did to it.

“I want you to come home,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner tonight. We can start over.”

Movement outside the window caught my attention.

A woman sat in the passenger seat of Luke’s truck.

Megan.

She was looking down at her phone, one of her hands resting on the coffee cup in the center console.

I turned back to him.

“Is Megan waiting in your car?”

Luke followed my gaze. “I promised I’d drive her to an appointment.”

“What appointment?”

“She needs to change something on her apartment lease.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You came here to ask me to return to our marriage, and she’s waiting in your truck?”

“I picked her up first. The office closes at five.”

“And you still don’t hear yourself?”

“I made a promise.”

“So was my birthday dinner.”

The library door opened.

Megan walked in, holding Luke’s keys.

“Are we going to be late?” she asked.

Then she saw me.

“Oh. I didn’t know he was coming in here.”

“You were sitting in his car.”

“He said he needed five minutes.” She looked at Luke. “I can get a ride if you two need to talk.”

“It’s fine,” Luke said. “Give me another minute.”

Again, she offered to leave.

Again, he made sure she stayed.

I looked at the gift in his hand, the coffee growing cold, and Megan holding the keys to his truck.

For years, I had believed Luke chose me.

Now I wondered if I had only been the woman who stayed after his first choice left.

I looked directly at him.

“If Megan had stayed, would you have married me?”

Luke opened his mouth, but no answer came.

Then he looked at Megan.