I studied her hands. Her own wedding band was still on her finger, turning beneath her thumb. "Because you made a choice about us before you walked out. You told me that if I didn't approve, our marriage could end. I finally believed you."
"I didn't mean it literally."
"How was I supposed to know which threats I should believe?"
She looked away. Behind her, a couple at another table were sharing pancakes and laughing over something on a phone. I could remember Vanessa and me doing exactly that, and for an instant I felt dizzy with the wish to be ordinary again.
"I wanted you to fight for me," she admitted quietly.
The words landed harder than the explanations about dancing. I set down my cup. "By letting you go out with another man?"
"By acting like losing me would matter."
"You know losing you would matter. You watched me try to fix this marriage for months."
She rubbed the edge of her napkin between two fingers. "You've been so quiet. You come home, ask about dinner, talk about bills, and everything sounds like a schedule. Sometimes I don't feel wanted."
"You could have told me that without threatening to leave. I would have listened."
"I tried."
"And sometimes you did tell me. I didn't always know what to do with it. But you also called me weak when I asked you to stop insulting me. Both things can be true."
Her eyes shone. "I don't want a divorce."
For a moment I couldn't speak. She had said the sentence I'd once spent whole nights hoping to hear. Yet she was saying it now because she had found an empty bedroom and a ring beneath the kitchen light. I wanted to believe her, but I didn't know whether she wanted the marriage we once had or simply the assurance that I would remain available.
"I don't know what I want yet," I said. "I do know I need to stay away for a while. I want us to handle the house and expenses responsibly. We can talk about counseling again, if you're willing to be honest in it."
"You went to a lawyer, didn't you?" she asked, watching my face.
"I consulted one."
She pulled back like I'd struck her. "So this is a punishment."
"No. It's me learning what happens if we can't make this work. I don't want either of us making decisions out of panic."
She stared down at her coffee until it had gone cold. When we stood to leave, she asked one final question that followed me all the way to the parking lot.
"If I hadn't said that stupid thing about quitting, would you still be home?"