“Hi, Jess.” He returns my hug, but it’s a distant one. He kisses my cheek, but it’s not particularly warm. It’s certainly not a lover’s kiss. Well, I didn’t expect that or even necessarily want it, but I miss it all the same.
I step inside and look around, determined to keep my attitude positive and my energy upbeat.
“Oh, wow—what a great house!”
“Yeah. It was Brooke’s and Lily’s.”
I feel a little stab in my heart. Good God, but he’s enmeshed with those women.
“It’s only a couple of blocks from Quinn’s place,” he says.
“How convenient.” Even to my ears, the comment sounds snarky.
“Yeah, it is. What did you want to talk about?”
“Can we sit down?” We’re standing in the foyer, the front door still open behind us.
“Sure.” He closes the door and gestures to the living room.
I sit on the sofa, thinking he’ll sit beside me. Instead, he sits in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.
I cross my legs at the ankle and fold my hands in my lap, trying to look contrite and demure. Iamcontrite, I genuinely am, but my sister says I never really look sorry for anything. “Well, for starters, I want to apologize for how I handled things. I acted unilaterally, and a marriage is supposed to be a partnership. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Is that all?”
“No, it’s not.” My mouth is dry, the way it gets before a big presentation. “I-I’d like to talk to you about the things we should have discussed.”
“The property division is fine.”
He’s been beyond fair, going above and beyond what I’d asked. He’s shipped all our furniture to Seattle, and he’s had the closing company send me a check for half the proceeds from the sale of the condo. He’d owned the place before we married, so he had a lot more invested. All the same, he held nothing back.
That’s how he was in our relationship: he held nothing back. The thought stabs my heart, because I can’t say the same.
“I wasn’t talking about property,” I say. “I was talking about whether or not we should split up.”
He turns his hands palm up. “If you want to divorce me, I don’t see anything left to talk about.”
“You’d suggested marriage counseling earlier. I was wrong to just dismiss it.”
He lifts his shoulders. “It’s all water under the bridge.”
“Zack, I don’t want to walk away from our marriage without feeling like we tried.”
“Are you willing to move back to New Orleans?”
“No, but...”
He raises his hand and cuts me off. “I won’t move to Washington. I have Lily and another baby on the way here, and I want to be part of their lives. I’ve worked things out with my old firm and told the Seattle law office that I’m staying put.”
“But you could make it work if you tried. The children could visit us in Seattle, and you could come back and see them here. I’m sure the Seattle firm still wants you.” I angle toward him, and pull out the words I’d formulated on the flight. “You always said that marriage was a sacred vow, and that you didn’t believe in breaking it.”
“You’re the one who filed for divorce.”
“Maybe I acted too swiftly. I’ve had time to think, and, well...” Tears swell in my eyes. “I miss the way we used to be together. I don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as I was when we were first married. Remember how wonderful those first few months were?”
“Yeah. I remember.” His gaze meets mine. “But, Jess—things haven’t been wonderful for a long, long while.”
“They were once.”
