One Summer In Paris. Sarah Morgan

Sophie sliced into chicken. “He’s still with Callie. And don’t look like that, because I don’t even care. I’ve chosen a career over relationships.”

      “You can have both.” Grace helped herself to more salad and silently cursed David.

      “A career is in your control. I am going to work my butt off in college and get a brilliant job. I am going to shatter that glass ceiling into so many pieces that all the men around me cut their feet on the shards.”

      Grace put her fork down. “Don’t let what happened color your view on life. I don’t want you to miss out on love and family because of this.”

      Sophie stabbed a piece of chicken. “Would you have married Dad if you’d known this was going to happen? I mean, you’ve been together forever and he’s thrown that away like it’s nothing. Was it even worth it?”

      Grace thought back to the beginning of their relationship. The night that had brought them together. She and David were the only ones who knew the exact circumstances. She thought about the happiness they’d shared.

      “I would. We had many happy years.” One day, maybe, she’d be able to look back with fondness. “And if I hadn’t met your dad, I wouldn’t have you. Sometimes you’re a pain, of course, but mostly you turned out pretty well.” She was relieved when her daughter threw her a grin.

      Sophie stood up to clear the plates and paused, her attention caught by movement outside the window. “Dad is here!”

      “No!” Grace stood up, too, heart pounding. “Why?”

      “Probably because we didn’t answer the phone.”

      The last thing she needed was an impromptu visit from David. It felt as if the universe was testing her, to see how far it could go before she cracked. “Go upstairs and do your homework, Sophie.”

      Sophie folded her arms. “I’m not leaving you.” Her father walking out had made her draw closer to her mother. She had chosen a side, even though Grace had been careful not to encourage it.

      She didn’t want Sophie to cut David from her life.

      He hadn’t mentioned divorce since that awful night back in February, but Grace assumed he was going to raise it again at some point. Whatever happened, he’d always be Sophie’s father.

      “Please, Sophie.”

      “Mom—”

       “Sophie!”

      “Fine.” Sophie grabbed her laptop and headed for the stairs. “I don’t want to see him anyway.”

      Grace thought about all the times Sophie had listened for her father coming home. She’d race through the house, filling it with her joyful yells, Daddy, Daddy.

      She opened the door, hating the fact that she felt nervous. It seemed unjust that she should be the one feeling that way.

      It had been weeks since she’d seen him, and her first thought was that he didn’t look like himself.

      David was always clean-shaven, but today his jaw was darkened by stubble. On another man it might have looked as if he hadn’t bothered to shave, but on him it looked annoyingly good. The touches of gray in his hair looked good on him, too. He was broad shouldered and solid. The kind of man people leaned on in a crisis. She’d leaned on him. She wanted to lean on him now, but as he was the cause of this current crisis that impulse made no sense.

      If he was suffering, it didn’t show. She, on the other hand, was fairly sure that her suffering was as visible as a drop of blood on fresh snow.

      If he looked closely he’d probably see the nights she hadn’t slept, the tears she’d shed, the food she hadn’t eaten.

      She made a note to always wear makeup from now on, even in bed. That way she couldn’t be caught out.

      “Grace.” His voice was gentle. He might have been speaking to the victim of a traffic accident. I’m terribly sorry to be the bearer of bad news. “Can we talk?”

      “You should have called.”

      “I did. You didn’t answer. Please, Grace.” In that split second, she saw the old David. The David who had supported her through unspeakably tough times, the David who understood her.

      She opened the door wider. “Five minutes.”

      He stepped through the door and had the good manners to pause, waiting for her to direct him even though he’d lived here with her for twenty-five years. They’d bought the house together and when they’d picked up the keys he’d carried her over the threshold. They’d had sex in every room in the house, including the bathtub.

      “Kitchen,” she said, and saw him glance into the living room as they passed the door.

      “You moved the sofa.”

      “The light was fading the fabric.” She didn’t tell him that she’d moved things around in the hope that she wouldn’t feel his absence every time she walked into a room.

      He waited until she sat down before he sat, too.

      “Where’s Sophie?”

      “Upstairs, working.”

      “How is she doing?”

      “How do you think she is doing?”

      “I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

      For the first time she noticed he looked tired, too.

      Too much sex, she thought bitterly.

      “It’s been a shock for her. You have to give her time.”

      David stared at his hands. “Hurting you both was the last thing I wanted to do.”

      “And yet you did.”

      He lifted his gaze. “Were you honestly happy in our marriage?”

      “Yes. I liked the life we had, David.”

      “Our life was safe and predictable, and I know you need that. But a marriage has to be more than a routine that doesn’t change. Sometimes I felt you wanted me as a support and a crutch. Not as a man.”

      “You’re saying this is my fault?”

      He spread his hands. “I’m not attributing blame. I’m trying to get you to listen to me and see that there are two sides.”

      “Why? The time to have this conversation would have been before you had an affair and walked out.”

      He rubbed his fingers over his forehead, as if he was trying to massage away the pain. She knew every one of his gestures. This one meant he was dealing with a situation for which there was no fix.

      “Do you need anything?” He let his hand drop. “Money, or—”

      Or what? The only thing she needed was sitting in front of her.

      “I’m fine.” She still didn’t really know why he was here and then she saw him draw breath and knew she was about to find out.

      He studied something on the kitchen counter. “Have you canceled the trip to Paris?”

      “No.” Canceling would be the final acknowledgment that her marriage was over. Also, the moment she did it she knew Sophie would also cancel her own trip. She was still figuring out how to handle that.

      “Right. Good.”

      Good? Her heart skipped in her chest.

      Had he changed his mind? That was why he’d come here tonight, to find a way to ask her forgiveness.

      This was the first step toward reconciliation.

      Would she be able to forgive him?

      Yes, she probably would. They’d need to move away, of course.