She takes my hand in a warm grip. “Anna, I’m going to send you the name of a local divorce lawyer that I recommend. My cousin used her a few years back.”
I pause.
“No pressure. Just in case. It’s always good to have a backup plan.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Deep breath in, slow breath out. My parents have been married for thirty years and I can’t even manage two. The thought of taking this final step is . . . shit. Not just failing so spectacularly, but having everyone know. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. It’s like there’s a crack inside of me widening a little more every day and out pours all of the hope and love and everything that ever meant anything to me. My marriage has been upended and my reality has been reset—I can’t keep up.
“Is this why you’re back in town for a few days?” I ask.
“That, birthday cake, and the annual sale at Braun’s Books. You know I never miss that.” She grins. “You needed to know your options. And that you’re not alone.”
“Thank you.”
“You could come back to New York with me.” She taps her elbow gently against mine. “Start over in the big city, away from all of this nonsense. What do you say?”
“That’s a big move. I don’t know.”
“Could be fun. Even if it was just for a little while.”
“Yeah, but do you remember how I used to drive you crazy when we shared a room back in college?”
“You color coded my wardrobe.”
“I told you not to give me the edible.”
She laughs. “I thought it might relax you. Little did I know that your version of relaxation is organizing someone else’s life.”
“I’m not that bad.”
A snort from the lady. “I beg to differ.”
“Well, my control freak ways have had a setback. Rest assured.”
“Hmm,” says Briar. “I have yet to see any proof. You look pretty good to me.”
I slump back in the seat. “The proof is my life. My whole being now is . . . I don’t even know the word. Boom maybe? Kapow perhaps?”
“Your life blew up, huh?”
“Just a little.”
“As long as you’re not dwelling on it and feeling sorry for yourself,” says Briar.
Now it’s my turn to laugh. I’m such a basic bitch these days.
Suddenly, I hear a commotion in the foyer. Mom’s mouth is a perfect ‘o’ and Ryan stands there with a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. Once again, turning up without an invitation. There’s no way Mom would have given him one. But he knows if he just shows up, she doesn’t know how to say no.
“Quelle surprise,” says Briar.
Cho gasps. James already has his cell in hand. Celine is going to know about this in approximately two seconds, given the speed at which James’s thumbs are moving.
That’s the other thing about all of this—I don’t quite believe it’s over between them. That it was a one-time thing. A mistake. Because whether or not they’re currently having sex, I think they’re still involved on some level. Each and every time I see my husband, the guilt in his eyes seems to have risen. Same too the resentment over how difficult I’m being about an unfortunate accident. His words, not mine. And he’s not referring to the car accident. Hell no.
“Happy birthday,” Ryan says, then smiles all hopeful like and bends down by my chair. He’s so handsome. Dark hair and blue eyes. Tall and strong. Everything I thought I could ever want. But I don’t see him the same way anymore. The trust and friendship are missing. The love and fidelity. He threw it all away. “These are for you, honey.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks. “In private?”
“Sure.” The weight of every eye in the room rests heavy on my shoulders. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”
He frowns briefly, as if he was hoping for my bedroom.
“Can you pass me a vase, please?” I point to the top shelf in the pantry. The blooms are big and bold and a perfect dark red. I fetch the shears to cut the ribbon holding them together and Ryan sets the vase beside me. “Thank you.”
“Your mother didn’t invite me, but I heard about it from Julia and Will.” His voice is tight and tense, leaving no doubt that my mom has done him wrong.
I just nod. Given the situation, she did what she thought was best. I’m not making excuses for her just to appease him. Bet he wishes my dad were here. Dad’s his biggest fan and can always be depended upon to make him feel welcome—which made for some uncomfortable situations over the past few months. It also does nothing to address the situation, being that if I don’t want him here, then I should ask him to go. Only I’m not sure what I want, what with being a heart betrayed and divided, so here we are.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“I’m listening.”
It’s hard to look at him. Like he’s a stranger, unknown and untrustworthy. Guess he feels the same way because his jaw shifts and his gaze wanders. To the fridge, along the counter, up to the window. Everywhere but at me.
As if there hasn’t been enough furtive and shady behavior already. The apology for following me to Leif’s was grudging and half-hearted at best. Made only after I refused to answer his calls or respond to his texts for several days. This is what we’ve become . . . this ruin. Though he doesn’t have a hair out of place. His white button-down shirt is immaculate. Same goes for his pinstripe pants. No tie. He would have removed it in the car after he left work. I can just picture him tugging it free and casting it aside. The tension in his broad shoulders easing the farther he drives away from work. I know him so well, but none of that seems to matter these days.
I fill the vase with water and lift the first rose. No thorns. The florist must have dealt with them. Too bad someone can’t do that for my life. “What is it, Ryan?”
“You haven’t heard . . . never mind. Of course you haven’t.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
His face is both empty and set. Giving nothing away. “Celine’s pregnant.”
Everything stops.
“Anna . . .”
I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to pull myself together. It’s like I’ve been sucker punched. My brain is reeling, the information refusing to sink in, to make sense. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”
He moves to come closer but I hold up a hand to stop him. “Please, honey. It doesn’t have to affect you and me.”
There’s a stabbing pain inside of me. My heart, I think. Like the last piece of it is breaking, shattering into smithereens. I ran out of tears a while back. Our love has become this brittle thing I couldn’t fix even if I wanted to. That’s the truth. “We were going to try for a baby this year,” I say in a broken voice.
A little human, half him, half me. A family of our own. It might have been hormones, but the thought used to thrill and delight me. And now he’s done that with Celine. A bridesmaid at our wedding. One of my oldest and most trusted friends.
“We still can, if you want,” he says.
I wrinkle my nose. “Holy shit. Are you serious?”