Chapter 6
Always available.
Rarely noticed.
Never thanked until interrupted.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I studied him.
He looked genuinely frightened now.
“I mean it.”
“I believe you’re sorry.”
Hope appeared immediately.
“That doesn’t mean I’m staying.”
His face went blank.
“What?”
“I haven’t decided anything tonight.”
“But you just said—”
“I said your apology doesn’t decide for me.”
He pulled out a chair.
“Can we sit?”
“You can.”
I remained standing.
He stared at me.
“I ended it.”
“With Melissa?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
After coming home.
After seeing the pastries.
Something in my expression must have changed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
“You saw the bakery box.”
He frowned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You came downstairs after spending the night with her. You saw your favorite croissant. And you thought I had already forgiven you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Claire, that’s ridiculous.”
Maybe it was.
But his hand had reached into that box with complete confidence.
No hesitation.
No shame.
He had expected the Sunday ritual to survive Saturday night.
That image stayed with me.
His fingers above the pastry.
Mine around the coffee mug.
Lily saying, Those are for Grandma.
The marriage had ended quietly before either of us knew what to call it.
And Daniel had just reached into the evidence.
Chapter 2: The woman who remembered everything
The next two weeks were strangely ordinary.
That was almost unbearable.
Daniel went to work.
Lily went to school.
I went to the accounting office where I had worked for eleven years.
Laundry accumulated.
Milk ran out.
The trash truck came Thursday morning.
People imagine betrayal as an explosion.
Sometimes it is.
Sometimes it is discovering that your life still requires toilet paper after your heart breaks.
Daniel slept in the guest room.
He sent flowers to my office on Tuesday.
Red roses.
I hated red roses.
I had always hated red roses.
My favorite flowers were daffodils.
Daniel knew that once.
Or I thought he did.
The receptionist, Amy, carried the arrangement toward my desk.
“Wow.”
I looked at the card.
I’m sorry. I love you. Please let me fix this. —D
Amy’s smile faded when she saw my face.
“Do you want me to…”
“Put them in the break room.”
She hesitated.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
By lunch, three people had taken roses home.
That felt appropriate.
Daniel called at four.