“That was such a fun night,” she says, this time softer, her gaze unfocused on her plate, and I wonder if she’s thinking about how much easier things were back then, too.
There was hardly a time when we weren’t laughing, hardly a moment where we didn’t act like complete fools. It wasn’t like we were irresponsible—we weren’t—we just had fun together. We were friends, then lovers.
Now, I’m not even sure we’re acquaintances.
“One of my favorites,” I tell her, and she finally lifts her head, giving me a small smile.
“Mine too.”
We spend the rest of dinner making light conversation, dipping into the past here and there but mostly keeping it light. I ask about her travels, and she asks me about hockey. It’s the easiest things have felt between us, but we’re still just scratching the surface. Honestly, though, I’m afraid to dig any deeper. This feels too good. Why mess it up now?
“Okay, I am full.” Chloe pushes her empty plate away, then sinks lower in her chair. “That was officially my favorite meal I’ve had in at least the last six months.”
“What was six months ago?” I ask, grabbing my own bare plate, then stacking it on top of hers and taking them to the sink.
“Date Night.”
The plates fall straight to the floor, and Percy goes flying through the living room and straight toward the spare bedroom at the sudden noise.
“What the…” Chloe leaps out of her chair, rushing toward me. “Callum, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” I manage to bite out. “Just…go sit back down.”
She doesn’t listen, instead dropping to her haunches beside me, reaching for the dishes and trash strewn around the kitchen. I’m careful to keep myself far away from her as we clean the mess.
Date night?She’s been dating while I’ve been clinging to whatever scraps she’s given me over the years just to get by? And for what? For an awkward dinner and no real answers? Her hand covers mine, and I couldn’t hide its shakiness if I tried.
“It was with a bunch of girls I bonded with during the internship. We used to meet up every other week and go out. We’d dress up, have dinner, and spend way too much time listening to Taylor Swift. We called it Date Night because we were trying to romanticize our lives. That’s it.”
While her words calm some of the panic coursing through me, they don’t chase away all of it, and that little thread of terror turns into anger, which bubbles right out of me.
“What the fuck are we doing?”
I look up at her to find her mouth agape, her coffee-colored eyes wide. “W-What?”
I shoot to my feet, and she rises along behind me, slower, and it just makes me evenmoremad because she’s behind. We’re not in sync. We’re notright, and I want to be right again.
“Why am I here, worrying aboutmy fucking wifedating other men? How is that even a possibility? It shouldn’t bebecause you should be here withme. You shouldn’t be halfway around the world or wherever the hell it is you’re living now.” I toss the plates into the sink, the clatter echoing through the apartment, and for a second, I worry about scaring Percy, but I can’t care right now. I’m finally saying all the things I’ve wanted to say for too long. “We shouldn’t be exchanging texts every month or two like old high school buds. We shouldn’t have to guess about anything in each other’s lives. And we damn sure shouldn’t be tiptoeing around every fucking conversation. So, again, I ask—what the fuck are we doing?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again, and it makes me so fucking mad I could scream. Is she ever going to actually say anything? Will she explain what happened? Will she ever tell me if I’m the only one still in this marriage? I’m tired of guessing. I need to know.
Chloe steps toward me, and I brace myself. I’m not exactly sure what for, but I do it anyway.
This is it. She’s officially ending this.
Then she takes another step, and another, closing the distance between us until she’s standing so close I can smell her floral perfume. She pushes up to her tiptoes, her fingers tracing over the stubble lining my jaw. Even though I’m angry, I lean into it. That’s how desperate I am for her touch. HowstarvedI am. How fucking badly I need her.
“Look at me, Callum.”
I hadn’t even noticed I’d closed my eyes. I don’t know why I did. Maybe because I’m scared of whatever she’s going to say next. As much as I want to know what’s happening between us, I’m still not sure I can stomach the answer.
“Please,” she begs, and I surrender.
Slowly, I open my eyes and look right into hers.
“It wasn’t your fault I left.”
Six words I didn’t know I needed to hear so damn badly, and they’re officially my undoing. I reach for her, or maybe she pulls me in, I can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter either way because my lips fall to hers, and all I can think isFinally.I’m kissing my wife for the first time in three years, and I feel fucking whole. It’s like coming home after a long, long road trip—it just feels right.
