Chapter 2
I left Ethan’s medication with the receptionist at Hawthorne Club, my fingers still numb.
“Would you like to leave a message?” she asked.
I looked toward the conservatory. Ethan was bent over Noah, wiping frosting from his mouth while Janice smiled beside them.
The scene was complete. There was no place in it that needed me.
“Just tell him his medication is here,” I said. “He’ll know when to pick it up.”
By the time I got back to school, Lila had finished her first piece. She stood at the center of the stage, bowing to the audience. Her eyes searched the room for Ethan before they found me.
She gave me a small, careful smile, as if she needed to know I had heard her.
Afterward, she ran over with her flowers.
“Did you make it for the last one?”
“I did.” I smoothed the skirt that had creased against the piano bench. “You played beautifully.”
She glanced at the empty seat in the front row.
“He really is busy, right?”
I used to fill in the blanks for Ethan. A client emergency. Traffic. He wanted to be there more than anything. That night, I said only, “I don’t know.”
Ethan came home after eleven. He brought Lila hot chocolate and a bouquet of white tulips. Before he even took off his coat, he crouched in front of her.
“A client’s son got sick,” he said. “I couldn’t leave. I promise I’ll be there early for your next performance.”
Lila held her cup and didn’t take the flowers.
“When is the next one?”
Ethan paused, then reached for her hair. “You tell me. I’ll be there.”
I stood in the kitchen doorway and noticed a fleck of blue frosting on his collar.
The next morning, Ethan made breakfast as though nothing had happened. He reminded me that it was our anniversary and told me to dress up for dinner. He had planned a surprise.
I agreed.
At the restaurant that evening, he gave me a small photo book. It held pictures from the first years of our marriage, including Lila’s missing-tooth grin and our first Christmas in the house. He remembered the smallest details of our life.
That was what made it unbearable.
He had always been capable of cherishing us. He had simply kept honesty outside the door.
Dessert had just arrived when his phone lit up.
The color left his face.
“Another client?” I asked.
He took my hand. His palm was warm. “Clara, I need to go. The boy is having trouble breathing, and his mother is alone.”
I nodded and watched him leave the restaurant. Then I told the driver to follow his car.
He didn’t go to a client’s home.
He went straight to the children’s clinic.
Ten minutes later, I watched through the waiting-room window as a nurse handed him a form.
“Mr. Cole, Noah’s father,” she said. “Please sign here.”
Ethan signed without hesitation.
Later, Janice arrived. I heard her ask him, “How long are you going to keep this from Clara?”
Ethan stared at the treatment-room door.
“As long as I have to,” he said. “I won’t lose Noah, and I won’t lose my home.”
I walked back into the parking lot and texted my lawyer.
Please send me the divorce papers tonight. By tomorrow morning, before Ethan knows I’m leaving, I need to be ready.