Chapter 14
A tear slipped down Mark’s cheek.
I had seen my husband cry only a handful of times in twenty-two years.
Once when his father died.
Once when we lost our old dog.
Once after a frightening medical scare that turned out to be nothing.
Seeing him cry now did not give me the satisfaction I had imagined.
It simply made me tired.
“I didn’t know how to stop,” he whispered.
“You could have stopped by stopping.”
He flinched.
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“Yes, Mark. It was.”
I had never felt more certain of anything.
“Maybe it wasn’t easy. Maybe it would have been painful. Maybe you would have disappointed her. Maybe you would have had to admit what you were doing. But don’t call it complicated because you didn’t like the available choices.”
He pressed his fingers against his forehead.
“I never wanted to leave you.”
I stared at him.
He looked up quickly, as if that sentence should comfort me.
“I didn’t.”
Something almost cruel rose in my throat, but I swallowed it.
Instead, I said, “That may be worse.”
“What?”
“You wanted to keep me.”
“Of course I wanted to keep you.”
“And her.”
His face tightened.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that.”
“No, Claire, you’re making it sound like I was choosing between two lives.”
“You were living two lives.”
“I love you.”
My heart reacted to those words out of twenty-two years of habit.
That was the terrible thing.
Part of me still loved him too.
Love does not disappear on command just because the person holding it becomes undeserving.
But loving Mark did not make his behavior less real.
“I believe that you believe that,” I said.
His face crumpled.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have.”
He stood suddenly.
“I screwed up.”
“A year isn’t one screwup.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes!”
The word echoed through the kitchen.
Mark immediately lowered his voice.
“I know.”
He walked to the counter, then back.
“I was stupid. Selfish. I don’t have an excuse.”
I said nothing.
He looked at me desperately.
“I’ll do whatever you want.”
I almost asked where that willingness had been when I wanted one dinner a week.
When I wanted conversation.
When I wanted honesty.
When I wanted him to look up from his phone.
Instead, I asked, “Why?”
His shoulders dropped.
“I don’t know.”
“Then figure it out.”