Chapter 15
I didn’t want to become that person.
If staying married required becoming a detective, then whatever survived would not be a marriage I wanted.
Lucas came home Tuesday evening because I asked him to.
We sat in the living room.
He looked thinner.
Maybe he wasn’t.
Maybe guilt simply changed the way I saw him.
“I made an appointment with a therapist,” he said.
I nodded.
“I’m not telling you that to get credit.”
“Good.”
“I need to understand why I did this.”
“You know why.”
He looked at me.
“You liked how she made you feel.”
His eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
“And you thought you could have that feeling without paying for it.”
He said nothing.
“That’s the part you need to understand.”
Lucas looked back at me.
“I wasn’t trying to leave you.”
“I believe you.”
His face softened with relief.
I continued.
“That doesn’t make it better.”
The relief disappeared.
“You wanted both.”
Lucas’s eyes filled.
“You wanted our house. Our history. Me waiting for dinner. And you wanted whatever Rachel gave you.”
“I know.”
“You wanted to come home at ten and have me believe you were a hardworking husband who had spent fourteen hours at the office.”
My throat tightened.
“You weren’t choosing her over me.”
I shook my head.
“You were choosing yourself over both of us.”
Lucas looked down.
For a long moment neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “Do you think you can forgive me?”
I thought about the question.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded slowly.
“Do you want to?”
That was harder.
“I want to stop hurting.”
His face twisted.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
I looked toward the dark window.
“I don’t know whether forgiving you requires staying married to you.”
Lucas inhaled sharply.
For the first time, I think he understood that remorse did not guarantee restoration.
“I’ll do anything.”
I looked back at him.
“You can’t undo Thursday.”
“No.”
“You can’t make Daniel not call.”
“No.”
“You can’t make me unknow what you’re capable of.”
His eyes closed.
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“So stop trying to find the thing that makes this disappear.”
He looked at me.
“There isn’t one.”
THE THURSDAY HE WAS NEVER AT THE OFFICE
PART 5: WHERE HE REALLY WAS
For six weeks, Lucas lived with his brother.
We talked twice a week.
Sometimes in the kitchen.
Sometimes in a therapist’s office.
Sometimes over the phone when I felt strong enough to hear his voice.