“What?” She sounds panicked. “No, no. I just mean taking some time apart. Like, trying to live on our own for a while, you know? You do your thing, and I do mine. But we stay married.”
I want to tell her she sounds selfish, like she’s trying to have her cake and eat it too, but I’m too fucking stunned by what I’m hearing to say it at all.
“Look, it’s late, and I’ve had a few beers.”
I wish I had a fucking beer right about now.
“Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about. Can we…can we talk later? Maybe tomorrow? Or the next day? Please, Callum?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice scratchy. I clear my throat. “Yeah, tomorrow is fine.”
“Or the next day,” she says.
I grit my teeth. “Or the next day. Just call me whenever you get the chance, okay? If I don’t answer, I’ll call back as soon as I can, all right? Just keep trying.”
“Okay.” But she doesn’tsoundokay.
“I love you, Clover.”
A pause.
“You too, Callum.”
We disconnect the call, and I throw my phone right into the glass window I was staring out. It doesn’t shatter, but I wish it would. It would be so fitting for how I feel right now. My wife just asked me for a separation, and even though I don’t want it, I think I might give it to her.
It just might be the only way to save our marriage.
CHAPTER 22
CHLOE
I haven’t been back to Tennessee in at least two years, and I can safely say I didn’t miss being here one bit. It might be March, but it’s somehow in the upper seventies, and I’m already dying in the sweater I put on this morning before taking the first flight out of Seattle.
Callum fell asleep around ten, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my brain to stop spinning. It was like every bad thought I ever had about myself or my writing or my marriage just kept coming and coming. I could hardly make sense of any of it.
But there was one thing I could understand: I wanted to talk to my mom. I don’t know why. We’ve never had the kind of relationship where I just call her up and chat, but something told me to do it, and to do itnow.
So, I got on my phone and booked a very expensive last-minute flight, then crawled out from under Callum’s hold and packed a bag. Now that I’m here, standing in front of my parents’ front door, sweltering, I have no idea what convinced me this was a good idea. It’s too late now, though.
I raise my fist and rap my knuckles against the giant white door that could use a new coat of paint. This is the same house I grew up in, and I don’t think anything has changed over the years. Hell, the mailbox is still crooked from when Talia backed into it a month after getting her license.
I hold my breath, waiting for someone to answer. I release it when I hear shuffling inside, and I smile, imagining my father pushing out of his old recliner with a curse. But when the door swings open, it’s not my dad at all.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her andtrulylooked at her. Her hair, which has always been a few shades of red lighter than mine, is now white around the temples, showing her age. And her brown eyes—the same boring shade as mine—look tired, like she’s been up working since the wee hours of the morning, and knowing her, she probably has. She was always an early riser, even when we had nothing going on. Give her five minutes, and she could fill a day with activities.
“Chloe? What are you…” She shakes her head like she can’t believe her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprise,” I say, but there’s no real enthusiasm behind it.
“Well, I’d say.” She smiles, then opens her arms. “Come here.”
The second I fall against her, something inside me breaks, and all the tears I’ve been holding back since I walked out of Callum’s apartment fall like a levee breaking during a raging storm.
“Oh, Chloe girl,” she says as she rubs my back, and I can’t remember the last time she called me that. Certainly not since I married Callum, that’s for sure. She’s been mad at me since then. “What’s going on?”
“It’s…everything.”
I feel her nod, then she’s ushering me inside.
