Chapter 6 - SHE CHOSE TO LEAVE
Elena spent nine weeks in rehabilitation.
Adrian visited only when invited.
At first, that meant twice a week.
Then once.
Then not at all for eleven days.
Those eleven days hurt more than he expected.
He did not call.
On the twelfth day, Elena sent him a photograph.
A pair of beige high heels sitting inside a trash can.
Below it she wrote:
I hated those shoes anyway.
Adrian stared at the message for five minutes.
Then laughed so hard his assistant came into the office to check on him.
He replied:
Best decision you’ve made all year.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
Second best.
He knew what she meant.
The divorce papers were filed the following morning.
Adrian signed without contest.
The marriage officially ended three months after the crash.
Winter came early that year.
Elena moved into a small house near Lake Geneva instead of returning to the estate.
She could have purchased something enormous.
She chose a two-bedroom cottage with uneven wooden floors and a fireplace that smoked when the wind blew east.
Adrian sold the mansion.
Too many rooms contained memories he no longer trusted himself to interpret correctly.
Vale Meridian survived, smaller and legitimate.
Adrian lost money.
A great deal of it.
He lost friends.
Several men who had once called him brother stopped answering.
Newspapers wrote about the restructuring.
Business partners whispered that he had become weak.
For the first time in his life, Adrian discovered that being called weak did not frighten him.
Six months after the crash, Thomas Reed’s widow opened a vocational scholarship funded in her husband’s name.
Adrian attended the ceremony.
He stood in the back.
Elena stood in the front.
Afterward, they met beside the parking lot.
She walked with only the slightest limp now.
Her hair had grown past the scar near her temple.
“You came,” she said.
“I promised Diane I would.”
Elena studied him.
“You’ve gotten thin.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Someone should.”
He smiled.
Snow began falling.
Neither moved toward their cars.
Finally Adrian said, “Are you happy?”
Elena thought about it.
“Some days.”
He nodded.
“You?”
“Some days.”
She looked at him.
“That’s probably a more honest answer than either of us would have given a year ago.”
“Probably.”
A snowflake landed in her hair.
Adrian resisted the old instinct to brush it away.
Elena noticed.
“Would you like coffee?”
His heart stumbled.
But he did not show it.
“Coffee?”
“There’s a place across the street.”
He glanced at the café.
Then back at her.
“Is this pity coffee?”
“No.”
“Divorced-people closure coffee?”
“No.”
“Are you going to make me keep guessing?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
They walked across the street.
Not holding hands.
Inside, Elena ordered tea.
Adrian ordered black coffee.
They sat opposite each other near the window.
They spoke about ordinary things.
Her physical therapy.
His mother.
The scholarship.
A book Elena was reading.
A warehouse Adrian had converted into a training center.
Not once did he ask if she would come back.
Not once did she promise she might.
When they finished, Elena put on her coat.
At the door, she paused.
“There’s something I never told you.”
Adrian waited.
“The night before the crash, I almost tore up the divorce papers.”
May you like
His chest tightened.
“Why?”
