Chapter 3

A booking from last spring appeared. Malcolm had told me he was going to Boston for work.

Both their names were on the flights and the reservation for a single hotel room.

I saved the itinerary.

Then I opened my messages with Bridget and found those dates.

I'd told her Malcolm wasn't answering my calls.

He's working, she'd written. Give him some space. You don't want him dreading every call from home.

I'd left him alone because my best friend had asked me to.

I sent everything to the divorce attorney. By Friday, the papers were ready.

Malcolm signed the remaining documents for the inn before the guests arrived.

"You'll be spending more time there now," he said. "We'll have to decide which weekends we go together."

"I'll let you know when the handover's complete."

He kept his hand on the papers.

"I'm talking about us, Jocelyn."

"I heard you."

When I said nothing else, he let me take the documents.

That evening, Bridget stood beside him as our guests arrived. His mother directed every question about the dinner to her.

After dessert, his mother tapped her glass.

"Bridget has a few words for Malcolm."

Bridget rose from the chair beside him with a note card in her hand.

"Malcolm has never needed grand gestures," she began. "He shows his love in the quiet things. A Sunday drive to the coast. Lunch at the same little place. Listening to the same story twice because it matters to the person telling it."

I looked at the card.

Those were the words I'd written for my anniversary toast. I'd left them in the event folder Bridget had taken from my kitchen.

She continued with the drives when Malcolm had courted me and the afternoons we'd spent at my mother's inn.

Malcolm turned toward me.

"You told her about all that?"

Bridget smiled before I could answer.

"Jocelyn tells me everything."

His mother reached across the table and squeezed Bridget's hand.

"You always know exactly what Malcolm needs to hear."

Bridget looked directly at me, waiting for me to expose her. Malcolm was watching, too.

I lifted my glass.

"That was a lovely speech, Bridget."

Her smile slipped.

Malcolm pushed his chair back and came to my side.

"Come outside with me."

On the terrace, he closed the door behind us.

"Why did you let her give your speech?"

"She wanted to."

"That used to matter to you."

"It doesn't anymore."

His face tightened.

"Stay with me after everyone leaves," he said. "We'll have a drink out here. No phones. Just us."

I'd bought the loveseat on the terrace because I'd wanted evenings like that with him.

He watched my face.

"All right?" he asked.

Before I answered, the door opened.

Bridget stepped outside with her handbag.

"I should get my suitcase. I'll call a car to the hotel."

Malcolm turned to her.

"I'll drive you."

"You don't have to. It's your anniversary."

"It's a short drive. I'll make sure you get checked in."

Bridget looked at me.

"You don't mind, do you? I'll send him straight back."

Malcolm's attention returned to my face.

"I won't be long."

My phone vibrated with the lawyer's confirmation.

The inn was mine.

I put my phone away.

"Have a safe drive."

Malcolm didn't move.

"You're not upset?"

"No."

On another anniversary, I'd begged him to stay. I'd cried before returning to our guests.

Bridget went upstairs for her suitcase. Malcolm stayed.

"We'll have that drink when I get home."

"Of course."

He studied me, then followed her through the house.

After the remaining guests left, I went upstairs and changed out of my dress.

The old anniversary gift lay inside my packed suitcase.

The divorce papers, my wedding ring, and proof of their affair lay on Malcolm's desk.

I closed the front door, got into my car, and drove away.