“No.” I licked lips. “No. In the beginning, maybe. But no. To trust myself. My own feelings.” The admission blew through my lips without pause. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Suddenly the darkness, and the intimacy of our private conversation, and the lateness of the hour, all worked together to ease the ropes that held me so tightly, so safely, atop the cliff. “I … loved once before. Desperately. I was open. Naive.” I laughed bitterly. “Loving wholly. Recklessly. Passionately. I always believed the power of that kind of love could not possibly be carried by one person. When I realized the truth, that not only was I carrying it alone, but that it was in fact an illusion, a massive deception I had bought into … brought a child into. The pain was … it broke me, Josephine.” I paused to drag in a lungful of air. “I loved Arriette.” My throat moved to close, the words ending before I was finished.

“I know.”

“No. That’s not …” My hand came to my neck like I could ease away the blockage. “I had already moved into the guest bedroom. Your bedroom,” I added to give context, “before she died.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“No. I do. I want to. I should have moved her things out. From the boat. From our house. And I did not. I’ve been avoiding it. But it is not for the reason you think. I loved Arriette. I loved her because I still loved the woman she was when we met. And I loved her because she was the mother of my child. A child I adore. I will always be grateful to Arriette for giving me Dauphine. I can never regret my marriage even while I regret I was unable to keep Arriette from her demons. But there was not much of a marriage at the end. I couldn’t reach her. She broke my heart long before she left us. And since then, I’ve been … frozen.”

Josephine’s soft breaths in the silence were the only indication she was still there. But she said nothing, allowing me space to find my words.