5

NEXT MORNING, I awakened to see sunlight filtering through the plantation shutters. The space in bed beside me was empty and cool. I glanced at the clock. Eight thirty-six!

I raced to get ready and threw on yoga pants, a light sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. I started for the stairs, then backtracked to see if Stephen had found the sticky notes. I’d left one in his closet, just inside his sneakers—Glad you’re home!—and it was gone. Next, I checked his bathroom drawer, and that note, too—The best is yet to come!—was gone. That had been more difficult to pen than the first, written more from faith than certainty.

Downstairs, I passed through the great room and saw Maggie’s car was gone. Stephen sat at the kitchen table, dressed for a run, iPad in front of him, along with the remnants of a protein shake. So much for breakfast together.

He looked over at me, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Good morning.”

My guard went up. “Morning. I didn’t mean to sleep so late. Have you been up long?”

“Since around six. Maggie made me her new special-recipe shake. It was good, too. Even with kale in it.”

He made a face that usually made me laugh. Now all I could think about was what he and Maggie had discussed in my absence.

“You want coffee?” I asked.

“I had some earlier. Thanks for my notes, by the way. That was unexpected. And appreciated.”

I returned his smile, then started making a double espresso, black, needing to clear my head, when I spotted the sticky note on the side cabinet. Great to be back! Not exactly a heartfelt sentiment nor hidden as usual, but a definite move in the right direction. I pulled it from the cabinet, only to find another one beneath. Seriously? You thought that was it? I saw the arrow on the bottom right-hand corner and played along, amused—and found yet another. You are everything to me, Claire, and I love you more than you know. Something shifted deep inside me. Nothing seismic, but undeniable. I looked back and smiled.

I sat beside him and mentally recounted what I’d rehearsed into the wee hours. I had a hard time holding a thought. He, on the other hand, looked well rested and ready. Gray peppered the dark hair at the temples, and his lean, athletic frame carried his forty-seven years nicely, better than most his age.

For a moment neither of us spoke. Then he leaned forward. “Honey, you know that you and—”

“Sandra offered me a partnership yesterday,” I said in a rush. So much for sticking to the plan.

Surprise lit his features. “Congratulations! You’ve worked long and hard for that. You deserve it.”

“It’ll mean a significant bump in salary and a lot more responsibility.”

“No less than you deserve. You’re very good at what you do.”

Caught off guard, my throat suddenly felt thick. “You deserve yours as well. Which I’m fairly certain I didn’t say yesterday.”

His faint smile encouraged my own.

“Claire, you and I are cut from the same cloth. Driven. Not willing to settle. Always wanting more.”

He held my gaze and, without a word, acknowledged our impasse. He could do that—speak with a glance. And with such confidence. It’s what first attracted me to him, and I saw it now in the firm set of his shoulders. Only now, that confidence seemed more foe than friend.

“You and Maggie are the most important people in the world to me, honey. You know that.”

The weariness in his features washed over me, taking my own thoughts with it.

“I told you yesterday that I’d verbally accepted the offer. Dale is expecting my letter of resignation. He’s informing the partners this morning.”

The finality in his voice sent a cold wind through me. “So . . . you’re not even willing to discuss it?”

“We’ve already discussed it, so many times. First Boston, then San Diego, then Chicago . . .”

Boston. I’d forgotten that one. And I didn’t care for the stab of guilt that realization brought. “But Stephen, this time it’s—”

“Different, I know. Like all the others were. Listen . . .” He reached for my hand, but I buried it in my lap. “That’s three opportunities I’ve passed up over the last eight years. For you. Claire, I need this change. We need it. It’ll be a fresh start. It’ll help us get back on track.”

“I’m not the one who got us off track.”

He stilled. The fatigue in his features gave way to hurt, and I almost wished I could take the words back. But they were true. It wasn’t me who’d chosen to toy with infidelity.

He faced me straight on. “If I could undo what I did, I swear before God Almighty, I would. But I can’t, and I couldn’t be sorrier. But if we stay this course and things don’t change between us, I don’t think we’re going to make it. And I—” He looked away briefly. “I can’t even hold that thought in my head.”

Hearing him speak aloud the words I’d only dared think all but paralyzed me. I don’t think we’re going to make it? Divorce was a word we’d never said aloud. Not once, despite our difficulties through the years.

“I’m taking the job, Claire, and I want you to come with me. I’m asking you to come with me. They want me ready to go by June sixth, and they’re flying us out next week to look at houses.”

Desperation sucked the air from my lungs. “But I don’t want to leave Maggie behind. And this is where Bryan is. I can still see where he took his first steps, and where—” The words stuck in my throat.

Stephen’s chest rose and fell. “Maggie will be fine. She’s ready and needs to stretch her wings. As for Bryan . . . he’s here.” He placed his hand over his own heart, then over mine, teary. “And he always will be.”

The silence stretched between us.

He cleared his throat. “You once told me that I was your home. That wherever I went, you would go.”

The reference to our marriage vows stung, especially with the reminder of San Diego, Chicago, and the forgotten Boston. I searched his expression for any insolence or pride, eager to vent. But I saw only honesty. And that discovery momentarily robbed me of fight.

He rose. “I love you, Claire. But I’ve made my decision. Now you need to make yours.”