Chapter 7
Megan lost her favorite audience before she lost her marriage.
Lena stopped answering her calls about the birthday dinner. Two friends who had watched her stay on Daniel’s lap told her they would not repeat a story they knew was false.
Ryan moved into his brother’s guest room.
I learned these things because people told me. I no longer checked Megan’s posts.
She came to the bookstore one final time. Jules saw her at the window and asked whether I wanted her to send her away.
“I’ll speak to her for five minutes,” I said.
Megan stood just inside the door.
“I don’t have Ryan anymore,” she said.
“I’m sorry it came to that.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting. I’m not going to pretend I caused it.”
She looked at the floor.
“The baby changes everything.”
“It will change your life. It doesn’t change what you did to me.”
“I know you think I planned to take Daniel.”
“You booked a hotel room. You told him things about my marriage. At Lena’s dinner, you sat on his lap and smiled at me.”
“I was angry he kept hiding me.”
“You were angry I was in the way.”
Her eyes filled.
“Maybe.”
It was the closest she had come to an honest answer.
“I don’t want us to end like this,” she said.
“We ended at the dinner, Megan. We’ve spent weeks finding out why.”
She put her hand on the counter where she used to leave coffee for me.
“I loved you,” she whispered.
“I loved you too. I need you to leave now.”
Jules walked her to the door.
I sat in the storeroom afterward and cried. Then I went back to work.
Daniel moved his belongings out on a Sunday while I was with Tasha. When I returned, his side of the closet was empty. He had left the yellow paint sample in the nursery.
I took it down and painted the room a deep green.
It became a place to read, with Mom’s old armchair by the window. I stopped calling it the nursery.
That felt like its own small grief.
I still wanted to be a mother someday. I did not want the room to wait in silence for a child who might arrive only if I stayed married to Daniel.
My counselor asked how I felt about him.
“I miss the man who made me tea before I asked,” I said. “I’m angry at the man who let my friend make me doubt myself.”
“Those are the same man.”
“I know.”
I saw him at one more joint session. He told me he had started individual counseling and was learning how often he sought approval instead of having difficult conversations.
“I should have talked to you about feeling lonely,” he said. “I didn’t. Megan praised me, and I kept going back for more.”
“I was lonely too,” I answered. “I told you.”
“I heard that as criticism.”
“It was an invitation.”
He cried then. I held my own hands in my lap.
After the session, I told him I was going to file for divorce.
He looked at me for a long time.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to find a way back.”
“I know. I need a life where I don’t keep waiting for the next truth.”
He nodded, though it hurt him.
“Then I won’t fight you.”
A week later, Ryan called. Megan’s doctors had given her a timeline, and the possible dates still included both men. They planned a paternity test when it could be done appropriately.
“I don’t want you to feel you have to follow this,” he said.
“I don’t. Let me know if a result affects something I need to deal with.”
“I will.”
He paused.
“I filed for divorce too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am too.”
For years, the four of us had shared holidays, road trips, and dinners. We were ending two marriages that had seemed solid from the outside.
I put down the phone and looked around the green room.
May you like
The walls were dry. The chair was comfortable. On the small table stood a photograph of Mom smiling in the bookstore.
I opened a book and read until the light changed.
