Summer Kisses

He closed the box. “You’ve booked everything already? Yes, of course you have. You’re you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was she supposed to apologize for something that was one of her best qualities? Being organized was a good thing. She’d grown up with the opposite and she knew how bad that was.

“You do everything—even though I’m capable of doing things for myself. You don’t have to buy my boss’s gift, Grace. I can handle it.”

“I know you can handle it, but I’m happy to do it so that you don’t have to.”

“You organize every single small detail of our lives.”

“So nothing gets forgotten.”

“I understand why that is important to you. Really, I do.”

There was gentleness in his tone and the sympathy in his eyes made her squirm a little. It was like walking into a crowded room and discovering you’d forgotten to button your shirt.

“We don’t need to talk about bad stuff on a night like tonight.”

“Maybe we do. Maybe we should have talked about it a lot more than we have.”

“It’s our anniversary. This is a celebration. You’re worried I’m doing too much? It’s fine, David. I like to do it. It’s not a problem.”

She reached across the table but he moved his hand away.

“It’s a problem for me, Grace.”

“Why? You’re busy, and I love spoiling you.”

“You make me feel…” He rubbed his jaw. “Incapable. Sometimes I wonder if you even need me.”

Her insides swooped. She felt as if she’d stepped off a cliff. “How can you say that? You know it’s not true.”

“Do I? You plan every detail of our lives. You are the most independent woman I know. What exactly do I contribute to this marriage?”

At any other time she would have said great sex, and they both would have collapsed with laughter, but tonight David wasn’t laughing and she didn’t feel like laughing either.

The people at the table closest to them were staring.

Grace didn’t care.

“You contribute plenty! David—”

“We have to talk, Grace.” He pushed his plate to one side, his meal only half-eaten. “I wasn’t going to say this tonight, but—”

“But what? What do you want to talk about?” Unease mushroomed inside her. He didn’t sound like himself. David was always sure, confident and dependable. She almost always knew what he was thinking. “Why do you keep rubbing your jaw?”

“Because it aches.”

“You should see the dentist. Maybe you have an abscess or something. I’ll make you an appointment in the morning—” She stopped in midsentence. “Or you can make it yourself if you prefer.”

“I want a divorce, Grace.”

There was a strange ringing in her ears. The background music and the clatter from the kitchen had distorted his words. He couldn’t possibly have just said what she’d thought he said.

“Excuse me?”

“A divorce.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt as if it was strangling him. “Saying those words makes me feel sick. I never wanted to hurt you, Gracie.”

She hadn’t misheard him.