“She’s different.”
“You’re different with her.”
“Yes, I’m happy. It’s terrible. I need to correct this problem right away. We’ve covered that.”
He shakes his head you’re not fooling me. “You’re softer with her.”
“Maybe.”
“Like you were with Laura. At first.”
“Don’t—”
“Do you have a list of topics you’d like me to cover? You know why I’m here early. We can dance around it if you want, but we need to get there eventually.”
“I know,” I admit.
“So…”
“What does she want?”
“A meeting.”
My stomach drops. “Why?”
“I’m not the one who was married to her.” His gaze shifts to the ocean. He takes another sip. Shakes his drink so ice clinks against glass. Taps his fingers against the chair.
Stalling.
It’s his tell.
“What?” I take the seat next to him. “There’s something.”
“I don’t want to ruin your holiday.”
“You won’t.”
He shoots me a look. Trust me on this. “Lie to yourself if you want. Don’t lie to me. Are you ready to hear why Laura’s ready to dissolve?”
I want to say yes, but I’m not sure.
“Maybe if you love this new girl… fuck, Ian. I’m not sure which of us is worse at this.” Hurt drips into his voice. It’s there. All that pain of Rory leaving. Pain I know. Pain I understand. Pain I can’t erase.
“Was there someone else?” I ask.
“No. I wish there was. That would be easier to understand than I’m sorry, but I’m not in love with you anymore. She’d already bought a fucking dress. She was planning the honeymoon.” His voice breaks for a split second. He stops. Steels himself. “I’m not pissed enough for this conversation.”
I can’t really talk there. “I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t a bad thing. If you’re happy. I hope you are. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this. Since—”
“Don’t say—”
“I won’t. But I… I’m tired of being the bearer of bad news.” His gaze shifts to the sand. “I don’t mind the duty. I just wish… I wish there was good news for once.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“Maybe not.” He looks to the sky. “They got married. You knew that?”
I nod.
“And now… she’s pregnant.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you anymore. Maybe you’re over it. Maybe this is the last time you ever want to see her.”
“It is.”
“Then I’ll schedule a meeting. Have our lawyer finish the contract. She wants to sign. I imagine that’s why.”
Now that she’s having a child with her new husband, she wants to dissolve our final tie.
She owns part of our information company. Part of the divorce agreement. She wouldn’t let me buy her out then.
I thought it was one more way she wanted to fuck me. But maybe it was something else.
A way to stay in my life.
To pretend we can be friends.
She’s been collecting profits for years. It’s tied us together for years. Meetings every fucking quarter.
Her lying smile every fucking quarter.
My stomach twisting every fucking quarter.
Now, she wants out. She wants closure. She wants me to forgive her.
I should. For my own sake. For Eve.
But what does that matter? This ends next month.
Eve will move on. Go to school. Find a guy her age. Some literature major who understands the same things she does.
Who doesn’t cart a truck full of baggage.
She’ll think of me sometimes, sure. As the guy who took her firsts. Who made her come. Who taught her to pick out good gin.
She won’t care if I worked through my inability to trust. She won’t care if I forgave my ex-wife. She won’t care if I moved on.
I gave up on moving on a long time ago.
I don’t love Laura anymore. I don’t want Laura anymore.
She’s nothing but a painful memory. An emptiness where my heart used to be.
It’s impossible to fill. I’ve tried.
So why do I feel this ache in my chest?
There’s not supposed to be anything there.
No hope, no love, no wish for more.
“We need another round,” Ty says.
This time, I agree.
For a while, we trade old stories. Dance around the elephant in the room.
Then he hits that point—where he can barely sit, much less stand—and he starts spilling his guts.
The break in her voice as she pressed the ring into his hand. The hurt in her eyes. The ache in his heart.
He wants to hate her for breaking his heart. But how can he hate her for falling out of love? For needing space to find herself? For realizing she wants something else?
I wish I had advice. Wisdom. Some way to help.
It should be easy for me to hate Laura—she was coming in another man’s bed—but I don’t.
It’s easier to focus on the sex. The betrayal. The red I see when I picture that arsehole’s face.
But focus always fades. I start asking why.
She didn’t fuck him to hurt me. I won’t forgive her for it. Or excuse her.
But I want to understand it.
How could the woman I knew do that? She’s never been selfless, sure, but she’s never had malicious intentions either.