His throat works as he swallows.
“Thank you,” he says. “For forcing my hand when I didn’t want to be pushed. For making me get help even when I didn’t deserve it.”
My chest tightens.
Patrick glances at me then, just for a moment, before looking away again.
“I get why you did it,” he murmurs. “Just like I understand why you…” He trails off, breath hitching slightly. “What I’m saying is, I’m ready. For mediation. Or whatever comes next.”
He says it gently. No pressure. No plea. Just acceptance.
My heart drops straight to my stomach.
I thought those words would bring relief. Closure. A clean line between before and after.
So why does it feel like he just punched all the air out of my lungs?
Patrick
Lore looks at me like she didn’t expect to hear any of that.
Honestly… I didn’t expect tosayit.
I talked to my therapist yesterday while Milo was with Dr. Nina. It’s become this strange little routine, father-son therapy days. He sees his counselor, I see mine, and afterward we get lunch like we just went fishing.
Anyway, Dr. Brett made me realize something I should’ve figured out a long time ago.
Putting off the divorce won’t save my marriage. It’ll just drag out the inevitable.
And Lore’s right, I’ve been selfish. For years, really. I just assumed that because she didn’t have her family, mine would be the default. That holidays automatically meant my parents’ house, my traditions, my comfort. It never occurred to me she might want something different. Something that was ours.
Hell… this might be the first Christmas since we got married that she won’t spend with my family.
Last year she was heavily pregnant, and things with Mom and Chloe hadn’t blown up yet, so she still came along. This year… this year is different.
This Christmas, I’m giving her what she’s been asking for all along, independence, the right to move on instead of being dragged into my shit over and over.
And it hurts.
Every part of me is screaming to take the words back, to tell her we can fix it, that I can fix it. But I can’t do that to her again.
Lore will never stop feeling like my wife.
But I’m starting to understand that I might not be her husband anymore.
And that’s no one’s fault but mine.
Lore lets out a soft, surprised “oh.”
I nod and look straight at Milo on the swings, because I can’t bring myself to look at her. I’d rather not risk seeing relief on her face, relief at being free of me.
I take a deep breath. “You can keep the house,” I say quietly. “I might take over Harvey’s place. He and Lauren are thinking about moving to Seattle anyway.”
She stays silent, so I push on.
“And… I talked to my mom.” My voice comes out more broken than I’d like. “I think she got it. She won’t be… like that anymore. With you. With any of it.” I rub the back of my neck. “And… yeah. I guess that’s it.”
The words feel clumsy, small for what I’m trying to give her, but they’re all I have.
