Chapter 5: What the Trip Was Really For
We rode the elevator in silence.
David stared at the floor numbers changing.
I watched his reflection in the polished doors.
He had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were pulled in slightly, the way they got when he was bracing for something.
The suite was quiet and cool.
He sat on the edge of the sofa.
I stayed standing.
"Talk," I said.
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Mom has been worried about us."
"Worried how."
"She thinks—" He stopped.
Started again.
"She thinks we've been drifting.
That things haven't been right between us for a while."
"And?"
"And she suggested this trip as a way for me to think.
To have some space.
Some time to figure out what I actually want."
The room felt very still.
"What you want," I repeated.
"Claire—"
"She came on our anniversary trip so you could have space to figure out what you want."
"She was going to take the kids so we could talk.
Really talk.
I thought maybe if we had a few days—"
"David." My voice came out quieter than I expected.
"Did your mother suggest this trip, or did you?"
He didn't answer.
"Because I remember it differently," I said.
"I remember you coming home one evening and telling me you'd booked a resort for our anniversary.
I remember being so relieved I nearly cried.
I remember thinking you'd finally—" I stopped.
"I remember thinking it meant something."
"It does mean something."
"Does it?
Because from where I'm standing, your mother planned a trip to give you room to decide whether to stay married to me.
And you let me think it was a romantic surprise."
He stood up.
"That's not what this is."
"Then tell me what it is."
"I just needed—" He pushed a hand through his hair.
"Things have been hard, Claire.
You have to admit that.
We barely talk.
We're both exhausted all the time.
I didn't know how to bring it up at home so when Mom suggested—"
"When Mom suggested," I said.
He stopped.
"Say that again," I said.
"Slowly."
He sat back down.
His hands hung between his knees.
"She called me three weeks before I booked the trip," he said.
"She said she was worried.
She said I seemed unhappy.
She said sometimes people need a change of scenery to see things more clearly." He paused.
"She offered to come and help with the kids so we'd have time to talk."
"And you thought the right move was to let me believe you'd planned a romantic anniversary trip."
"I did plan it.
I booked it.
I wanted us to have time together."
"But you also told your mother she could have the suite."
He said nothing.
"Because she was the one who made this happen," I said.
"And she knew that.
And she expected to be treated accordingly."
The silence stretched between us.
Outside, I could hear the ocean.
Slow and indifferent.
"I need to ask you something," I said.
"And I need you to answer me honestly."
He looked up.
"Are you thinking about leaving me?"
His face changed.
Something moved through it that I couldn't fully read.
"No," he said.
"Claire, no.
I don't want to leave you."
"But you're not sure things are working."
"I'm not sure we've been trying," he said.
"There's a difference."
I picked up my phone from the table.
The unknown message was still there on the screen.
"Someone at that birthday dinner saw something," I said.
"Or heard something.
Enough to warn me." I set the phone down facing him.
"What did your mother say to you that night that you haven't told me?"
He looked at the message.
May you like
Then he looked at me.
And for the first time since we'd arrived at this resort, he looked genuinely afraid.
