SEVENTEEN

July 2, 2012

8:07 p.m.

Matt? Mathieu?” Lori-Anne called from the foyer, water dripping down her face. It was maybe twenty feet from the driveway to the front door but the rain was coming down hard. “Mathieu?”

She dumped her wet purse on the small table by the front door and took the stairs by two. She made her way down the hall to his office. The door was open. He was sitting at his desk. “Why didn’t you answer?”

He shrugged. “Why are you here?”

“Because we need to talk.” She wiped her face. “We need to fix this.”

“Will it change anything?”

The urge to hit him square in the chin gushed through her veins like hot melted steel. “We won’t know unless we try. Matt, this is nuts. We can’t just give up. You really want to throw away two decades together?”

His gaze drifted to the window.

“Do you love me?” Her voice sounded high and pleading. “Because I still love you.”

“Love doesn’t solve everything,” he said. “Contrary to what John Lennon sang. Sometimes, we need more than love.”

“Then what do we need? What will it take for us to make it work?”

Lori-Anne watched him curl up and shrink into himself. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s the resilient man I know? That young and lovable man who stole my heart? He was romantic and funny and didn’t shy away from going after what he wanted. That man believed in us. That man would fight for us. That man would never give up on us.”

“That man hadn’t lost his daughter,” he said. “Things change. Life can do that, beat you down.”

“So fight back.”

“I’m tired, Lori-Anne. Aren’t you? Life’s been beating me down since I was six.”

“No it hasn’t. It wasn’t always bad and it won’t be forever. We just need to get through this together. Please, Matt, you’re not a quitter.”

“Maybe your dad is right. Maybe I’m not the man you need.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, I can’t give you what you want anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” she said and put her hands together in front of her mouth. “Tell me why.”

“Please, Lori-Anne,” he said. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“You cleaned out her room,” he said, his face hardening. “It was my sanctuary and you just went ahead and cleared it out. There’s nothing left of her in this house. Nothing. It’s like she never was. How could you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her heart ripping apart her ribcage. “I just thought . . . you know, I’ve always been a doer. I just needed to do something, anything. I thought if her things weren’t here to remind us, that maybe it would help.”

He looked toward the window again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you by cleaning out her room,” she said while tears spilled out of her eyes, leaving dark smudges of mascara down her cheeks. “I was just hoping to get you back. I need you. I miss you. I want you.”

“What are we now? Without her, what are we? We’re nothing. Nothing.”

Lori-Anne wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “That’s not true. We’re still who we were before Nadia.”

“No we’re not,” he said, pounding the top of his desk. “Without Nadia, we’re just two people.”

“We’re two people who once loved each other enough to have a child. We can still love each other without that child.”

“I don’t think we can. Not after—” Mathieu stood and walked to the window. “Back then we could look forward to having kids. We can’t do that now. So what do we look forward to?”

“Each other.”

He kept his back to her. “Maybe that’s not enough.”

“Why can’t it be?”

Lori-Anne heard children’s screams and laughter waft through the open window, a sound that wilted her heart. A life without Nadia had never been her choice, and she wasn’t choosing a life without her husband either. Why couldn’t he see her? She was right here. She wasn’t going anywhere. She wouldn’t abandon him.

“Mathieu, give us a chance.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. You’re choosing not to.”

He didn’t answer.

“You’ll never forgive me, will you? You need someone to blame and I’m it. You’re giving up on us. You’re giving up on me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” she said, her voice cool. “Maybe you didn’t take my dad’s money, but you’re sure taking the easy way out.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.