Chapter 10 — Love of My Life

Preston was already at the café when I arrived.

He stood as I approached, pushing his chair back too quickly. A small velvet box sat beside his coffee.

I put my folder on the table.

"Put that away, please."

He glanced at the box.

"I thought you should see it."

"You read my email."

After a moment, he slipped it into his jacket.

Nathan had taken a table near the window. He was reading, his coat over the other chair. Preston noticed him before I sat down.

"You brought him."

"Yes."

"You don't trust me anymore?"

"No."

He looked at the empty chair between us as though something had gone missing from it.

I ordered coffee and opened the folder.

"These are the expenses we still need to settle. I've separated what I paid from what you paid. The Iceland event isn't on here. I didn't authorize or attend it."

"I don't care about the money."

"Then this should be straightforward."

He didn't look at the papers.

"Audrey, I'm sorry."

I waited.

"For what happened at the care center. Sienna told me what she said."

"I told you that morning."

His eyes dropped.

"I know."

"Why did you believe her now?"

He turned his coffee cup by the handle.

"Because she wasn't trying to make herself look good this time."

"And you thought I was?"

He shook his head, then stopped.

"I thought you were jealous. I thought you wanted me to choose a side."

"My mother was being treated behind a closed door."

"I know."

He pressed both palms against the table.

"I threatened the payments. That was me. She didn't tell me to do that. I wanted you to stop arguing, and I knew what would make you stop."

For the first time, he wasn't asking me to misunderstand what he'd done.

It didn't feel good. It felt like a bruise being examined after it had stopped aching.

"Thank you for saying it clearly," I said.

He looked up, hope arriving before I could finish.

"It doesn't change my decision."

He swallowed.

"I didn't expect it to happen overnight."

"It isn't happening later, either."

Outside, a cyclist stopped beside the window to adjust a bag on her handlebars. Nathan turned a page.

Preston leaned forward.

"I can be different. I've stopped talking to those people. Sienna's gone. I can come here. We could start again somewhere nobody knows us."

"You don't need my participation to change."

"I want to change for you."

"Then start by respecting what I'm telling you."

He sat back. His jacket fell open, revealing the outline of the ring box.

"I spent six months getting that made," he said quietly.

"I remember."

"I wanted it to be something nobody else had."

"And then you gave it to somebody else."

His hand moved toward the pocket, then stopped.

"I got it back."

"That was a choice you made afterward. It didn't undo the first one."

He stared at me.

I remembered waiting for him to notice my empty hand. I'd thought the pale mark left by the ring might explain what words couldn't.

He hadn't noticed until another man held it.

"You said you loved me," I continued. "But when your friends laughed at me, you joined them."

"I never—"

I took out my phone.

"You did."

I opened the saved video and put the screen between us, keeping the volume low.

He watched Sienna lean toward him. His expression tightened. When Lucy appeared, he looked away, then forced himself to look back.

His friend's question came through the speaker.

Then his own answer.

"Marriage is marriage. Doesn't matter who you do it with."

I stopped the video.

"She sent you that?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes.

"I was showing off. They were pushing, and I didn't want to look—"

"Like you loved me?"

He didn't answer.

"You didn't want them to think I mattered enough for you to defend me."

His mouth trembled.

"You mattered."

"Then you should have let them see it."

The server brought my coffee. I thanked her and moved the phone away.

Preston waited until she left.

"I used to make you happy."

"You did."

He looked almost relieved.

"I haven't forgotten," I said. "I remember the good years. That's why it took me so long to stop explaining the bad ones."

He bent his head.

For a moment, I felt sadness without any urge to fix it for him.

Then I turned the folder around.

"Please look at these."

This time, he did.

We went through the apartment expenses and the remaining shared bookings. I'd already separated our accounts and canceled my payments toward services I no longer used. There were no loans between us. The care payments he'd made had been gifts, and he confirmed that in the email he sent while I waited.

We agreed on the remaining balance. I transferred my share and saved the confirmation.

He looked at the receipt on his screen.

"You really prepared for this."

"Yes."

"I thought we'd have more time."

"I gave you ten years."

I closed the folder.

It had been twenty-seven minutes.

"I'm going now."

He stood with me, reaching instinctively across the table.

Then he drew his hand back.

"Could we ever be friends?"

"I don't want that."

He nodded once, slowly.

"Please don't contact me again," I said. "No deliveries. No new email addresses. No messages through other people."

"All right."

I sent a brief written confirmation of the settlement and the request before putting my phone away.

He sat down again.

The ring box remained in his pocket.

Nathan closed his book when I reached him.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Outside, I stood in the sun while he buttoned his coat.

"Would you like to walk or go home?" he asked.

"Walk."

We crossed the street. I didn't look through the café window.

At the next corner, I took Nathan's hand.

"I want to talk about us," I said.

He stopped beside me.

"All right."

"Not today because of him. Not because I need a happy ending by Monday."

"I wasn't expecting one by Monday."

I smiled.

"Good. I'd like enough time to find out what you're like when we run out of milk."

"Unreasonable. Deeply unpleasant. You'll be warned."

I laughed, and he kissed my forehead.

We kept walking. For the first time in years, there was nothing behind me I needed to go back and explain.