Prologue
Beau
Twenty-Two Years Ago
My love,
I spend a lot of time looking up at the sky at night. It steals my breath away. It seems impossible so many stars exist out there. Sometimes they seem close, like I could reach out and touch them, and others, far away.
A bit like you.
For not much longer, I hope.
Meet me tomorrow, nine a.m. at the barn.
Yours,
Me
The slipof paper is pale pink and lined. It smells of her. I fold it in half, using two fingernails to make a sharp crease.
Today will be a hard day. One I thoroughly deserve, a day I've brought upon myself.
My children sit at the table, eating breakfast. I don't know that I can refer to them aschildrenanymore. They are twelve, fifteen, and seventeen. The oldest, Wes, is practically a man. He dreams of the military, of taking down bad guys. He carries with him the same spark of indignation I felt when I was younger.
Now the only indignation I feel is pointed inward. I couldn't be more disappointed in my weakness if I tried.
"Good morning," my wife says, walking up to the breakfast table. She nibbles at the corner of a piece of buttered toast. It's all she can stomach right now. Her voice is pleasant, because we're in front of our boys.
I've damaged our marriage.
We were broken before, but not irretrievably so.
For the first time, I wish for better friends. The kind of friends I could confide in. If I'd had that, maybe I'd have known how normal it was to ride the swells of a long-term marriage. The crisis of life and age wouldn't have seemed so pressing. Maybe, if I'd had someone to talk to about it all, they'd have chuckled knowingly and promised me Juliette and I were not a special case, but the same as everyone else. He'd have assured me that long-term marriage is a bit like being on a boat in a hurricane. Just strap yourself to the boat and hold on.
I don't have friends like that. I'm not a man who confesses my feelings and fears. It would make me weak, not to myself, but to others. Of all the gifts my last name has given me, it has removed some opportunities as well. One of which is to fully trust anybody besides my family. I have to operate under the impression that anything I say to someone not bearing the last name of Hayden can and will be used against me.
It is precisely why my affair can never be known by a single soul.
Juliette suspected. By the time I confessed, she'd already convinced herself.
We're fighting for our marriage. I didn't realize how much I loved her, or the life we've built, until it was in jeopardy. Now it’s all I think about.
When I looked into her eyes and told her the truth, I understood I'd become half the man I thought I was. But I'm going to get back there. I'm going to be the man she chose. I will never, ever hurt her again.
I reach for her now, curl my finger and run a knuckle along her forearm. She watches my finger, and her lip quivers. She reaches for me, and I brace myself for her to brush me away. She hooks a finger around mine and holds it there. Her gaze lifts, finding my own.
There is love there. Hurt and pain, fury and devastation. But so much love. That is what we will cling to as we rebuild our relationship from rubble.
"Boys," Juliette says, her voice clear as a bell. Three dark-haired heads swivel toward their mother.
Wes, Warner, and Wyatt.My boys. I swallow the lump in my throat. I love them more than I ever knew it was possible to love. It would break their hearts if they learned what I did to their mother. I pray they never find out.
Juliette's hand splays across her mostly flat stomach. "Your dad and I are having a baby."
"Hi,"she says, stepping out from beside the barn. She releases Lilly, her American quarter horse. Her chestnut coat and charcoal mane are nearly identical to my Arabian, Brutus. He knickers beside me as he greets Lilly. If it hadn't been for twin horses, we may not have ever spoken in the first place. Incredible how the smallest spark can result in a tremendous blaze.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to meet me."
