Chapter 28
The marina noise seemed to soften around us.
He gave a small, sad smile.
"I used to think that Friday was the day I lost you."
I said nothing.
"But it wasn't, was it?"
"No."
"When was it?"
There was a time I would have spent hours trying to answer perfectly.
Now I didn't.
"I don't think there was one moment."
He nodded.
"I thought maybe you'd say the anniversary dinner."
I remembered.
Lauren texting.
Adrian turning the phone over.
Me pretending not to notice because I didn't want to ruin the evening.
"That was one."
"Or Christmas."
"Maybe."
"Or when I told you that you were paranoid."
"That didn't help."
He looked toward the water.
"I've spent two years looking for the exact moment because I think part of me believed that if I could identify it, I could imagine going back and fixing it."
I understood.
Regret often invents time machines.
If only I hadn't sent that message.
If only I hadn't taken that call.
If only I hadn't lied that night.
But betrayal is rarely one door.
It is a hallway.
You walk farther down it with each choice until one day you turn around and discover the person you expected to follow has stopped.
"I don't think you lost me in one moment," I said.
He looked at me.
"I think you lost me every time I told you something hurt and you explained why I shouldn't feel hurt."
His eyes closed briefly.
"Yeah."
"And I lost myself every time I accepted that explanation."
When he looked at me again, there were tears in his eyes.
Not enough to fall.
Enough to show.
"Are you happy?"
"Yes."
"With someone?"
I hesitated.
Then answered.
"Yes."
Pain crossed his face.
He nodded.
"I'm glad."
I believed he meant it.
That mattered to me.
It did not pull me back.
"Are you?" I asked.
"Getting there."
I smiled.
"Good."
A valet called his name.
Adrian glanced over.
Then back at me.
"I should go."
"Okay."
He started to turn.
Then stopped.
"That ceramic sailboat."
I laughed immediately.
"What about it?"
"I still have it."
"What?"
"I couldn't donate it."
"You told me you didn't want it."
"I didn't."
"Then why do you have it?"
He shrugged.
"It lives on a shelf in my townhouse."
"Still ugly?"
"Absolutely."
I smiled.
Adrian did too.
Then his expression became serious.
"I think I kept it because it reminds me there was a version of us that wasn't a lie."