Olivia grinned. “It’s not much different than convincing fifty people they want Frank’s lunch special.”
Lynn laughed. “I guess not.” For the first time since they’d arrived at her mother’s house, Lynn really looked at Olivia and held her gaze. “I envy you.”
“My mess of a life?” Olivia shook her head. “Grass is not greener, honey.”
“Yeah, probably not.” But Lynn didn’t sound convinced.
Olivia didn’t know how to press harder without offending her friend. She knew she was chickening out even as she leaned back and pasted on a bright smile. “This is a good opportunity for them. Maybe for you too, if they’re going to be away.” Gloria had mentioned maybe staying at their Florida condo until the filming was done, to free up their place entirely as a rental unit. “You could be the contact person for the tenants.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not interesting.”
Interesting is what you make of something,Olivia wanted to yell. Instead she smiled politely and looked toward the kitchen. Tea couldn’t come fast enough.
Lynn snorted. “Don’t try to save me, Liv.”
“I’m not,” Olivia said quietly.Save yourself, don’t give up on the lovely little life you have.“I’m just saying if I could do things differently, I would.”
“I can see the look on your face. You think life is a fairytale.”
“God, I really don’t. If it was, I’d still be married.”
“So…you get it?” Lynn looked at her, eyes wide, almost pleading for affirmation…of what?
Olivia shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I do.” Tea wasn’t coming, so she leaned forward and looked Lynn in the eye. “What’s going on?”
“How did you get up the courage to leave Rafe?”
“I didn’t. He asked me for a divorce.”
Lynn’s shoulders slumped. “Ryan will never leave me. He wants to go to counselling.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Olivia fought back the harsher words that bubbled up and wiggled on the tip of her tongue.Don’t throw your marriage away. But that would make her a hypocrite. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to save her own marriage even if she had handled things differently.
— TEN —
Three years earlier
THE front door opened slowly, followed by the sound of Rafe’s heavy footsteps. One, two, three. Just far enough inside the door to swing it shut, and there he stopped. Waiting. She clattered dishes in the sink, a pathetic, passive-aggressive warning that he might not want to come and find her in the kitchen. Not without armouring up first, anyway. Except it was also a pathetic, passive-aggressive vie for his attention. She hated that she was throwing a tantrum.
At least the kitchen was getting tidied at the same time.
She couldn’t see him but his routine was the same every night. He’d sit on the bench at the door and take off his boots.Thunk. Then he’d go upstairs and wash off the uglier side of humanity he’d spent his day with. Another point of contention that she had no right to be upset over. She wanted to be his first priority when he came home, not taking a minute to decompress. He’d tried to explain it to her and she’d just gotten wound up. Like she was yet another stressor in his life that he needed to mentally brace himself for.
Tonight he didn’t go upstairs. It felt like a hollow victory, because he certainly didn’t come and wrap his arms around her waist, although that might have something to do with the giant butcher knife she was furiously scrubbing.
“I’m sorry, I know you were looking forward to this weekend.” He filled the kitchen doorway. He’d changed at the detachment before driving home, but he still had on “work clothes”. An OPP t-shirt and navy cargo pants, his standard almost-in-uniform uniform.
“It’s not about the weekend, Rafe.”
He looked confused and she didn’t blame him. Her rage didn’t make much sense outside her head. “This course is only offered once a year, and I need it.”
“I know.” She scrubbed harder, as if she could wash away their problems with extra elbow-grease.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“When?” She shook her head and placed the knife in the dish rack. “I switched three of my days off to make this weekend happen. Two of them I took out of time we had off together. And I’m sure you’re going to get called in—“
“I’ll say no.”
