Chương 12
This time neither rushed to fill it.
Finally Ryan said, “I read the messages I sent you.”
“Which ones?”
“A lot of them.”
Emily almost asked how many, then stopped.
He continued.
“I searched words.”
“What words?”
“Where are you.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
Ryan looked embarrassed.
“I sent some version of that more than two hundred times this year.”
Emily stared at him.
“That seems high.”
“It was.”
“What else?”
“Who are you with.”
He rubbed his thumb against the cup.
“Why didn’t you answer.”
Emily swallowed.
Ryan continued.
“Send me a picture.”
The memory arrived instantly.
A work happy hour in March.
Ryan had asked what bar she was at, then asked for a picture of the table.
She had sent one.
At the time, she had told herself he wanted to see everyone.
Now she looked at him.
“What did you think when you saw them all?”
“That I would hate it if you sent them to me.”
Emily let out a slow breath.
Ryan’s voice dropped.
“I kept calling it concern.”
“You were checking on me.”
“Yes.”
“Constantly.”
“Yes.”
“You made me feel guilty for not answering.”
“Yes.”
“And when I told you that, you said I was making your anxiety worse.”
Ryan closed his eyes briefly.
“Yes.”
Emily looked toward the counter.
Her tea had gone untouched.
The surface trembled slightly when she moved her hand.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want to argue anymore about whether it happened.”
Emily went still.
Ryan continued.
“I did those things.”
His voice was low but steady.
“I don’t get to make you prove them to me one at a time.”
Something in Emily’s chest loosened and tightened at once.
For months, she had wanted exactly that acknowledgment.
Now it arrived after she had stopped depending on it.
“That doesn’t tell me what you want,” she said.
Ryan looked at her.
“I want my wife back.”
There it was.
Simple.
Painful.
He continued before she could respond.
“But I don’t think I get to ask for that right now.”
Emily said nothing.
Ryan’s jaw worked.
“I want a chance eventually.”
“At what?”
“At being different.”
“For me?”
“For me first.”
He smiled faintly.
“That answer has apparently been drilled into me.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m trying.”
Emily looked at him.
“You’re doing well right now.”
Ryan’s expression tightened.
“Right now.”
“That matters.”
“But not enough.”
“No.”
He nodded.
The absence of protest made her sad.
Ryan reached into his jacket pocket.
Emily tensed before she understood the motion.
He noticed.
His hand stopped.
“I have something.”
“What?”
“Paper.”
He pulled out a folded envelope slowly and placed it on the table.
Emily did not touch it.
“What is it?”
“A list of the accounts and passwords that are shared.”
She stared at him.
“I removed myself from your phone plan.”
“What?”
“It was in my name.”
“I know.”
“I transferred the number to you.”
Emily looked at the envelope.
“You did that?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Because my counselor asked what I still control that I don’t need to.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
Ryan continued.
“I took myself off the location sharing too.”
Emily had forgotten it was still active.
She felt stupid for forgetting.
Ryan’s expression changed when he saw her face.
“I haven’t checked it since you left.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He answered immediately.
Emily stared at him.
“No?”
“You shouldn’t believe things just because I say them.”
The sentence sat between them.
Ryan pushed the envelope a little closer.
“I wrote down what I changed.”
Emily picked it up.
Inside were three pages.
Phone account.
Streaming services.
Auto insurance.
Shared utilities.
Wedding gift deposits.
A list of items in the house that belonged to Emily before marriage.
Her standing lamp.
Her grandmother’s sewing box.
Two framed photographs.
A kitchen mixer.
The desk she had bought after college.
“You listed my things.”
“I didn’t want you to have to come get them while I was there.”
Emily looked up.
“You’re moving them?”
“If you want.”
“Where?”
“Mom’s garage.”
“No.”
Ryan waited.
“I’ll get them myself.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want anyone packing my things.”
“Okay.”
Again, no argument.
Emily folded the pages.
“Are you doing all this because you think it earns points?”
Ryan considered the question longer than she expected.
“Some of me probably is.”
Emily looked at him.
He gave a helpless shrug.
“I’m not going to pretend I suddenly became pure.”
That almost made her laugh.
Ryan continued.
“I want you to notice.”
“I want you to think I’m changing.”
“I want you to miss me.”
His mouth tightened.
“And I also think these things are mine to fix.”
Emily stared at him.
That was more believable than a speech about expecting nothing.
“I do miss you,” she said.
Ryan stopped breathing for a moment.
Emily continued before hope could transform his face.
“That is not the same as wanting to come back.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
“I miss stupid things.”
“Like what?”
She almost refused to answer.
Then she said, “You making scrambled eggs wrong.”
Ryan looked up.
“I make them correctly.”
“You cook them until they become gravel.”
“That’s food safety.”
Despite herself, Emily laughed.
Ryan did too.
For a few seconds, they were the people who had once stood barefoot in her old apartment debating eggs.
The memory was warm.
Then it ended.
Ryan’s smile faded first.
“I miss you stealing the blankets.”
“I don’t steal them.”
“You rotate in your sleep like a rotisserie chicken.”
Emily laughed again.
A couple at the next table glanced over.
Then the laughter disappeared, leaving something tender and unbearable behind.
Ryan looked at her for a long moment.
“I really loved being married to you.”
Emily’s chest hurt.
“You were married to me for one day.”
“I mean before.”
“We weren’t married before.”
“I know.”
He rubbed his face.
May you like
“I mean I loved the idea that we were becoming permanent.”
Emily looked at the envelope in her hands.
