“He watched a movie with me last night,” she says.Like she’s mentioning the weather.Like it’s nothing.Like a man strapped to a column asking to watch a movie is a thing that happens.
“Yeah?”I keep my voice under the sink.Neutral.Steady.
“The Notebook.His idea.”A pause.“He’s never sat through a romance in his life.He used to change the channel if a commercial had a couple in it.”
I don’t say anything.I tighten the supply line.Quarter turn.Check for leaks.
“He was different,” she says.“Calm.Not the angry calm.Just...calm.He said he missed this.”
“Missed what?”
“Us.Being together.Doing something normal.”
I slide out from under the sink.Sit on the floor with my back against the cabinet.Look up at her.She’s standing at the counter with her coffee, and there’s something on her face I haven’t seen before—hope.Not the manic, manufactured hope she brought upstairs with a tray and a wilting flower.Something different.Something that scares me more.
“That’s good,” I say.“That’s the point.”
“Is it?”
“You wanted a reset.Sounds like he’s resetting.”
She nods.Drinks her coffee.Doesn’t look at me.
I get back under the sink.Tighten the last connection.Turn the water on.Check the joints.No drips.Clean install.
I pull myself out, wash my hands in the new faucet.The water runs smooth.Brushed nickel catches the light from the window.
“Luke.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think he means it?”
I dry my hands on the towel she left on the counter.Take my time with it.Not because I need to but because the question deserves more thought than I want to give it.
Do I think he means it?Do I think the man who told her she’s not wife material and smiled about it is now watching romance movies and saying he misses her because he’s had a genuine change of heart?
No.I don’t think that.
I think Charles realized cruelty didn’t get him free.I think threats didn’t get him free.I think the soft voice and the lawyer talk and the Tuesday dinner conversation didn’t get him free.So he’s trying the one thing he hasn’t tried—being the man she wanted him to be.He felt something shift in the room.
WhatdoI think?
I think he’s smart enough to have taken my advice, smart enough to know that Marin pulling away is more dangerous than Marin leaning in.I think he’s running a play because that’s what men like Charles do.They don’t change.They adapt.
But I don’t say any of that.Because if I say it, she’ll hear jealousy.Not assessment.Not experience.Jealousy.And the whole point of this collapses if she thinks I have a stake in the outcome.
Which I do.But she can’t know that.
“I think,” I say, “you should keep doing what you’re doing.”
She looks at me over her coffee.Searching.Trying to read what’s underneath.
I don’t let her.
“Faucet’s done,” I say.“No more dripping.”
She picks up her phone.Mine pings.She’s transferred payment.
