Chapter 8: What He Tried Next
He was different on Saturday morning.
Quieter.
Careful.
He made coffee and poured a cup for me without being asked, which he hadn't done in over a year.
"I want to talk," he said.
"All right."
He sat across from me.
He looked tired in a way that was real — not performed.
Whatever he'd been carrying, the weight of it was showing now.
"I made a terrible mistake," he said.
"I know that.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you it meant nothing, because you'd know that was a lie.
But I'm telling you it's over.
Completely over."
"I believe you," I said.
He looked up, surprised.
"I believe it's over with Dana," I said.
"I believe you ended it.
What I don't believe is that you ended it for me."
"Renee—"
"I think you ended it because it was becoming complicated.
Because her father's firm just renewed.
Because the risk got too high." I wrapped both hands around my cup.
"I don't think you looked at me and chose me.
I think you looked at the situation and chose safety."
He was quiet for a long time.
"Maybe that's true," he said finally.
"Maybe at first.
But these last two weeks — watching you, knowing what I'd done — I've thought about nothing else."
"What have you thought?"
"That I don't want to lose you."
The words sat in the air between us.
"Barrett," I said.
"You spent a year telling me I was past my best.
You used our money to build a life with someone else on the side.
And now that the papers have been filed, you've decided you don't want to lose me." I set my cup down.
"Do you understand how that sounds?"
"I know how it sounds."
"Do you know how it felt?
Every comment.
Every look.
Every time you made me feel like I was something fading away?"
His jaw tightened.
"I was wrong.
I know I was wrong."
"Then why did you do it?"
He didn't answer.
That was its own kind of answer.
"I'm not able to unknow what I know," I said.
"I'm not able to unfeel what I felt.
And I'm not able to pretend that the man who told me I was too old to be attractive was doing it because he loved me and lost his way." I stood up.
"He was doing it because he was already somewhere else.
And he wanted me to feel small enough that I wouldn't notice."
Barrett's hands were flat on the table.
He didn't move them.
"The papers stand," I said.
"Petra will be in touch with your attorney next week."
I left him sitting there.
I went upstairs, changed into clothes I liked, and drove to meet Petra for coffee.
She was already at the table when I walked in.
She stood up and held both my hands for a moment before we sat down.
"How are you?" she said.
May you like
"I'm all right," I said.
And for the first time in a very long time, I meant it exactly as I said it.
