That’ll do it.
“How’s the stillness going now?”
“We’re still talking,” I point out.
He mimes zipping up his mouth. Then he pours the wine, and it’s good. We make it almost to the end of the bottle, just sitting there together, sipping the bubbly.
“It’s a bit of a bittersweet end to the day,” I finally say.
“Yeah.” He brushes his pinky finger against mine. “Is that what came out of the stillness for you?”
“Yeah.” I make a face, then realize my eyes are wet. I swipe away the sad tears.
“I’m sorry I’ve broken everything so badly.” The way his voice cracks, I know he’s sitting with an even bigger helping of self-recrimination than I ever could.
I move my hand on top of his and squeeze his fingers. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“It really was incredible.”
“Even Death of a Marriage?”
He makes a wounded noise that turns into a coughing laugh. And he nods. “Yes.”
“I have a confession,” I whisper, ignoring the fear wrapping its cold fingers around my heart.
He turns his head, his handsome face bare and soft and fragile.
For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, I don’t want to hurt him. “I’m sorry,” I breathe. “In advance.”
“It’s okay.” He pokes his tongue at the corner of his mouth, being strong and brave in the way that only being truly vulnerable allowed one to be. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”
Was I there yet? I take a deep breath. “I’ve been going to Alex’s kink club for the past year. It started as research.”
Luke’s expression doesn’t change, but even in the dim lighting, I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, and then I hear a tortured inhale. “Oh?”
“It never crossed the kind of lines you crossed. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want anyone else. But I started to explore my sexuality, and I never had any plans to tell you about it. Deep down I had resigned myself to the fact that at some point, we had fractured beyond repair. I didn’t owe you an explanation of what I was doing.”
“You didn’t,” he said softly. “I said it was okay, and I meant it. Thank you for telling me.”
I nod.
But I’m not done.
I’m so scared it hurts, in my shoulders and down my arms. I’m holding myself so rigidly it’s painful, but it’s painful inside my chest, too.
Like I might break if I finish the confession.
Like I might shatter if I don’t.
“I think I owe you that explanation now.” My voice is soft, or small. Maybe both. I was still, and this burbled up. “Because I think our fractured thing is something I still value.”
He exhales, roughly, and thumps his head back against the wall. “Thank Christ,” he mutters.
And he hauls me into his lap.
20
Luke
I hold her against me, my sweet wife, my beautiful wild bird, as she shakes and cries softly. She’s done a big, brave thing, after another big, brave thing, and I love her so much for all of it.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur against her hair. I will forever be that. And then, because sorry isn’t enough, and not what she needs, I dig deeper. “I’m curious, too. I want you to tell me more when you’re ready.”
“Later,” she whispers.
I kiss the side of her head and hold her.
Later comes at the bottom of the bottle of champagne. We drink it while eating a charcuterie board I put in the fridge earlier.
Once she’s eaten and is quite tipsy, she stretches out on the floor and pats the space next to her.
I’m not getting past the foyer of the loft tonight, I realize that, so the floor is perfect. I lie down on my back, and after a few long beats of silence she starts talking.
“It took me months to realize I wasn’t going there for research anymore. In hindsight, it was silly how long it took me, but denial is powerful.”
My lips quirk at that. “So I’ve heard.”
“It made my art so much richer, too.” I turn my head to the side so I can watch her in profile. The softness of her cheek, the firm point of her nose. The rise and fall of her whole body as she takes a breath and holds it.
Waiting.
Stillness.
And then she smiles, which is the most beautiful thing in the world, and she starts talking again. “I was so mad,” she says softly, still smiling. That hurts, but it’s a dull hurt. Progress. “When I realized you’d played at kink with someone else. It took me a long time to realize that playing at kink and being kinky aren’t at all the same things.”
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to just listen, but I agree. When she doesn’t continue, I gruffly make an agreeing noise so she knows I’m on board.
That makes her smile more.
“It’s so hard to explain, actually.” She snaps her fingers in the air. “Oh! Maybe…” She rolls onto her side, so we’re looking at each other. “I want you to take a quiz.”
Do I look like someone who can be defined by the interns at Cosmopolitan? The asshole response slams into my head, onto my tongue, before I can turn off the negativity. But I stop it from slipping out, and that’s something. “Sure.”
But she catches my hesitation. “Never mind.”
“Grace, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s really not. Either you want to do what it takes to fix this marriage or you don’t.”
“I do.” That comes out immediately, no stopping it, and I exhale roughly. “Please. Tell me about this quiz.”
“Maybe later.” She twists away and jumps up, padding barefoot toward the kitchen. “I need a drink.”
At this rate, we’re going to be alcoholics before she likes me again. “Hey, wait.”
She scowls at me over her shoulder. “Don’t try to stop me.”
“Can I at least follow you?”
She doesn’t say no, so I haul myself up and follow anyway, bringing the empty champagne bottle and flutes with me.
She takes two glasses out of the cupboard, then points wordlessly at the liquor cabinet.
I hand her the scotch. She holds the bottle in her hand for a minute, then sets it down, turns again—always twisting away from me, like she can’t look at me—and presses up onto her tiptoes to grab the vodka instead.
I follow the curve of her bare arm to the black silk of her shirt, stretching against her slight breasts, and suddenly I’m hard.
I want to fuck my wife against the kitchen counter.
I want to drag her to the floor and make her scream.
“What are you thinking?” she asks as she turns away from me again.
How does she know I’m thinking anything when she won’t even look at me? “I was thinking you look really hot right now.”
“Stop being surprised I’m attractive, Luke.”
“I’m never—” But maybe I am. “If I have been remiss in telling you how gorgeous you are, I will rectify that.”
She snorts. “I know I’m pretty. That’s not what I’m talking about.” She lifts her glass to her lips and tips it back, swallowing the neat vodka in three slow pulses of her throat.