“I’m relieved you’ve found some peace with it. Happy. I just want us to be okay. To get past all this,” he said, and I heard the slightest slur to his words, which meant he’d refilled his whiskey a few times.

“Rusty, did you hear what I said? I don’t want to live this story.”

“You mean your mother’s, right? Not this one,” he said, and waved his hand around the room.

“Both.”

I so wanted him to lean forward with something that resembled a real emotion, something that rang of soul. I wanted him to tell me he wanted to be part of my story and I’d be part of his. With expectant breath, I waited.

Here, this was his choice.

“I have no idea what in the living hell you’re talking about. Seriously, Ellie. Story? Are you crazy? Has your mother’s journal made you insane? You want a new story? This one isn’t good enough?”

I whispered, “I didn’t say it wasn’t good enough.”

“Can’t you just be happy with what you have and why you have it? Can’t you look around you and see that you live a great story or whatever the hell you want to call it? What do you want? A fairy tale? Looks to me like you’ve already got one.”

“No, see, that’s the thing. That’s the exact thing—I don’t want a fairy tale.”

His face softened and he leaned forward. “You’re my fairy tale.”

“See?” I stood now. “That’s the thing that makes me crazy. The thing that doesn’t let me find your heart.”

“What’s the thing?”

“The way you can go back and forth like that. Mean, then soft. Angry, then sweet. All in a single breath. You have two ways of controlling the conversation, of managing our life and me: supersweet or rage. You go between them until you find the one that will rule the situation.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying. You don’t make any sense anymore, Ellie. I’m worried.”

“You really don’t have any idea, do you?”

“This is what I have no idea about—Ellie … do you love me?”

When silence was my answer, he stared at me for the longest time, the world stretching itself out in waiting. Could I say it? I knew if I did, I’d be lying. Would I lie to save a marriage? To save a lifestyle?

Rusty stood and threw back his whiskey. “Don’t fucking bother to answer. I already know.” He grabbed his car keys and was out the door before I inhaled.