One Summer in Paris

“And yet you did.”

He lifted his gaze. “Were you honestly happy in our marriage?”

“Yes. I liked the life we had, David.”

“Our life was safe and predictable, and I know you need that. But a marriage has to be more than a routine that doesn’t change. Sometimes I felt you wanted me as a support and a crutch. Not as a man.”

“You’re saying this is my fault?”

He spread his hands. “I’m not attributing blame. I’m trying to get you to listen to me and see that there are two sides.”

“Why? The time to have this conversation would have been before you had an affair and walked out.”

He rubbed his fingers over his forehead, as if he was trying to massage away the pain. She knew every one of his gestures. This one meant he was dealing with a situation for which there was no fix.

“Do you need anything?” He let his hand drop. “Money, or—”

Or what? The only thing she needed was sitting in front o

f her.

“I’m fine.” She still didn’t really know why he was here and then she saw him draw breath and knew she was about to find out.

He studied something on the kitchen counter. “Have you canceled the trip to Paris?”

“No.” Canceling would be the final acknowledgment that her marriage was over. Also, the moment she did it she knew Sophie would also cancel her own trip. She was still figuring out how to handle that.

“Right. Good.”

Good? Her heart skipped in her chest.

Had he changed his mind? That was why he’d come here tonight, to find a way to ask her forgiveness.

This was the first step toward reconciliation.

Would she be able to forgive him?

Yes, she probably would. They’d need to move away, of course. Leave this town and move to a place where no one knew them. They’d see a counselor. Find their way through this knotty mess. Rebuild their lives.

“You don’t want me to cancel?”

“I’ll pay you for my flight ticket. I don’t want you to lose the money. And I’ll take over the hotel reservation.”

Grace felt as if her brain was working in slow motion. He didn’t want to take her to Paris. He was offering her guilt money.

And suddenly she knew. God, she was so slow.

“You’re taking Lissa.”

He ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Grace—”

“You want the tickets so you can take the girl—” she emphasized girl “—you’re having an affair with, on our anniversary trip.”

He looked almost as sick as she felt.

“I know it’s not the most tactful thing to ask you.” He looked desperately uncomfortable. “But it does make financial sense. You already booked the whole trip, and I know you’ll lose money when you cancel.”

She could imagine how the discussion might have gone with Lissa.