It tooksome convincing for me to leave Keith and Emma in the care of Rosie, a trained nanny. Scott and I didn’t have a reliable, extended family to watch our kids, so our date nights always included them. Except for the night I spent in the hospital after giving birth to Emma, I’d never been away from my kids. It felt reckless. Selfish. But the nanny came with colorful props, and the kids couldn’t say goodbye to me fast enough.
Graham Whittaker stood when I approached the table. I smoothed my hand down my dress in a self-conscious bid for composure, trying not to think about how much this would hurt Scott if he knew.
“Michelle Carver,” he said with a smile that was both familiar and disarming. “Or do you go by something else now?”
I smiled faintly, a little nervous. “McKallister. Though it’s complicated at the moment.”
“It always is,” he chuckled, offering his hand.
He looked good—better than I remembered, actually, with his dark hair and a body that fit nicely in his tailored suit. And he still had that modestly handsome thing, like he didn’t need to announce his presence.
“Thank you for meeting me,” he said as we sat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come.”
“Neither was I,” I confessed.
Dinner started stiffly with talk of the weather and other intensely awkward things, but the moment that broke the ice was when he leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“So, be honest,” he said. “Was this your idea or your mother’s?”
“My mother’s. What about you?”
“Same.” He grinned. “Mine called it ‘an elegant solution.’ I’m still trying to figure out what problem we’re supposedly solving.”
“Me,” I laughed. “I’m the problem. And according to my mother, you are the solution.”
“Oh, man,” he said, his eyes warm. “Then I feel sorry for you.”
We talked easily after that about the Vineyard summers, about how he’d traded wine country for finance and now spent his weekends on a sailboat trying to remember what joy felt like. There was something disarmingly honest about him.
“I heard a bit about your husband,” he said, bravely broaching the subject. “I don’t believe everything I hear, but… it sounds complicated.”
“That’s one word for it,” I said with a small smile. “He’s a good man. Just… not an easy one.”
“And yet you still talk about him like you love him.”
My heart gave a painful jolt.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Love doesn’t vanish because life gets complicated.”
“You sound like someone who’s thought about this a lot.”
“I have. And if I’m being honest, Michelle, like you, I’m not over my wife…” He flinched. “Ex-wife. Sorry. She ripped my heart out, and the thought of loving someone again scares the hell out of me.”
“What happened? Did she cheat on you?”
He didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to collect himself.
“She didn’t leave with anyone,” he said evenly. “She just… left. One Tuesday morning, while I was at the office, she packed her bags and left a note that said she didn’t love me anymore and couldn’t keep pretending. No affair. No drama. Just eight years of what I thought was a solid marriage—until the day she walked out. Try living with that. Honestly? I almost wish there’d been someone else.”
Silence settled between us while I searched for something to say.
“Anyway. I’m not looking for some once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. I’d rather have peace. Partnership. Family.” He hesitated, then added, “I don’t have children of my own. But if I did… I’d want to be someone they could count on.”
No wonder he agreed to this. He didn’t trust in love anymore, which suited me fine. He was offering partnership: coparenting, but not love. Although my heart was still solidly in the Scott camp, it was an enticing proposition. My kids and I could have a safe and prosperous life, and I wouldn’t have to fake it with Graham.
When we finally stepped outside, the valet pulled his car around. Graham walked me over to where my driver was waiting. He opened the car door for me, and I slipped inside. “For what it’s worth, Michelle… whatever happens, I’m glad we met. I wasn’t expecting to like you so much.”
“Neither was I.”
