Chapter 6 - HE CLAIMED NOTHING HAPPENED, THEN BLAMED HER
At seven twenty the next morning, Hannah’s doorbell rang.
Owen stood on the porch in yesterday’s clothes.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His hair looked like he’d spent hours pulling at it.
He had dark circles under his eyes.
“I need to talk to my wife.”
Hannah folded her arms.
“She’ll decide that.”
“I’m standing right here,” I said.
Owen looked past her at me.
“Please.”
I stepped outside and shut the door.
He began immediately.
“I didn’t sleep.”
“I found April seventeenth.”
He stopped.
It was almost physically visible.
The impact.
“The steakhouse,” I said.
His face emptied.
“Rebecca—”
“You told me it was a supplier.”
“It wasn’t what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“An affair.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
He answered quickly.
That made me believe him.
At least about sex.
“How many times?”
“That dinner was the only time we met alone.”
“How many phone calls?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Maybe eight.”
“Texts?”
“Some.”
“Delete them?”
Silence.
I nodded.
“Okay.”
“Nothing physical happened.”
“That sentence is doing a lot of work for you.”
“She was having problems with Lucas.”
“And you?”
He looked at the porch boards.
“What about me?”
“Were you having problems with me?”
“No.”
“Then why did you need a secret relationship with a woman you used to love?”
His head came up.
“It wasn’t a relationship.”
“You lied about seeing her. You hid calls. You deleted messages. You got her husband a contract and never told me who she was. You knew her marriage was struggling before Lucas apparently knew you were involved in the conversation. What word would make you more comfortable?”
He paced once to the railing.
Then back.
Finally he said something I did not expect.
“With Camille, I don’t matter.”
I stared at him.
He swallowed.
“That came out wrong.”
“Keep going.”
“She knew me when I had nothing.”
“So did I.”
“No. You met me when I had the dream.”
“You had seventeen dollars in your checking account.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
He looked exhausted.
“With you, everything has consequences. If I screw up a purchase order, you know. If labor is high, you know. If a location misses projections, you know. You know every mistake.”
“Because I run the books.”
“I know.”
“You asked me to.”
“I know.”
“Then what exactly are you blaming me for?”
“I’m not blaming you.”
“It sounds remarkably similar.”
He leaned against the porch railing.
“With Camille, I’m twenty-one. I’m nobody’s boss. Nobody needs payroll. Nobody needs a decision. I’m not responsible for seventy people. She remembers me before any of this.”
I felt something inside me crack in a new place.
Not because he missed being young.
I understood that.
God, I understood that.
I missed the woman who worked twelve-hour shifts and still went dancing afterward.
I missed eating takeout on the floor with him because we couldn’t afford furniture.
I missed laughing without checking tomorrow’s cash position.
But I had never needed to erase Owen to find her.
“You know what I hear?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“You wanted a place where your choices had no consequences.”
He said nothing.
“And you made me the place where they did.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It’s extremely fair.”
His eyes filled.
The sight hurt me more than I wanted it to.
“I love you.”
“I believe you.”
He looked startled.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are we standing out here talking like this is over?”
“Because love and safety aren’t the same thing.”
“I never hurt you.”
I almost smiled.
“Owen.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t think you know what you mean.”
He stepped closer.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
“And you want credit for the line you didn’t cross while ignoring every line before it.”
He flinched.
“I can fix this.”
“How?”
“I stop talking to Camille. Completely.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“It’s part of it.”
“Yes. But the problem is you required consequences before you became interested in my boundaries.”
He stared at me.
Then he said the sentence that ended whatever small chance remained.
“You never told me not to.”
The neighborhood was quiet.
A sprinkler clicked somewhere across the street.
A dog barked two houses down.
I could hear Hannah moving inside the kitchen.
I looked at the man I had loved for fourteen years.
“I shouldn’t have to tell my husband not to hold another man’s wife like that.”
“I meant before last night. If the calls bothered you—”
“You knew enough to take them outside.”
His mouth closed.
“If the dinner was harmless, you wouldn’t have lied about who was sitting across from you.”
He looked away.
“And if you honestly believed that dance was innocent, you wouldn’t have looked at me first.”
He had no answer.
I continued.
“You saw my face, Owen. You hesitated. For one second, you had every piece of information you needed.”
His eyes closed.
“And then you chose.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Come home.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“I’m seeing a lawyer Monday.”
His eyes opened.
“Rebecca.”
“That’s information, not punishment.”
“You can’t decide eleven years in one night.”
“I didn’t.”
I looked through the glass door at my sister’s kitchen.
May you like
“I think I’ve been deciding for years. I just didn’t know that was what I was doing.”
Then I went inside.
