“You already decided?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“You didn’t even talk to me first.”
I looked at her.
“You did not talk to me first in May.”
“That’s different.”
“No.”
“You can’t just end seven years because of this.”
“Because of what?”
Her mouth opened.
I waited.
Because of the affair?
Because of the lies?
Because of Logan?
Because of Chicago?
Because she had used our marriage as temporary housing while waiting for another man’s promotion?
She could not find a version that sounded small enough.
Finally:
“We can fix it.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t want to.”
The sentence hurt me too.
Vanessa began crying then.
Real crying.
Not theatrical.
Her breathing broke.
She sat at the island where the entire arrangement had begun nine weeks earlier.
“I love you.”
I looked at her.
“I think you love having me.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It might be wrong.”
“It is.”
“Then tell me what love looked like during those four months.”
She pressed both hands against her face.
“I don’t know.”
That was the second honest sentence.
We stayed there until almost ten.
The Friday date never happened.
Logan called twice.
Vanessa ignored the first call.
Answered the second.
She walked into the dining room but did not go far enough that I could not hear her side.
“Not tonight.”
Pause.
“He knows.”
Longer pause.
“Caroline contacted him.”
Pause.
“No, I didn’t tell him.”
Her voice changed.
“What do you mean you told her everything?”
Pause.
“Logan.”
Pause.
“You said you were handling it.”
That sentence told me more about their relationship than any screenshot.
Handling it.
Two people trying to manage spouses as variables.
Vanessa listened.
Then:
“So what about Chicago?”
Long pause.
I watched her shoulders fall.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
There it was.
The future she had treated as real was already becoming conditional now that secrecy was gone.
She lowered her voice.
“You told me once the promotion was official—”
Pause.
“No.”
Pause.
“You said we were doing this.”
The call ended.
Vanessa stood with her back to me for nearly a minute.
Then turned.
“He needs time.”
I could not stop myself.
“For what?”
She looked wounded.
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“You planned to leave me for a man who needs time once his wife finds out.”
“Stop.”
I did.