“Sorry. I needed to see you. Talk to you in person.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a chair. A whiff of the leather reminded me of the nights he used to take me out, arm around my shoulder, tucking me against him.

“Oh, well, the mess is because I’ve been sick. Still am, in fact.” Unable to fake it anymore, I dropped onto the couch, nestling into the armrest. I held a beige pillow in front of me like a shield.

“Sick, huh? You’re not contagious, are you?” His voice was skeptical. I couldn’t tell him I was sick from withdrawal and anxiety over the tire-slashing business.

“No, don’t worry your pretty little head. You can’t catch it. And in case you were wondering, yes, I’m clean.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I’m sure you are.”

I heard the condescension, and I couldn’t ignore it. Not after all we’d been through together. “Wait—back the truck up. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to fight, Liliana. Clearly you’re working through some stuff, and if this is withdrawal, then good for you. I hope you stick it out this time and get sober.”

“I am sober, Tony.” I was so convincing I even believed myself. “I got my shit together and I’m doing really well, actually. Is that why you showed up unannounced—to check up on me?”

“Of course I’ll always care about you. But no, I’m not checking up on you. I’ve moved on with my life. That’s what I need to talk to you about. I met someone.”

“Oh?” This time the nausea had nothing to do with the withdrawal and everything to do with a sudden panic surging through me. No matter how bad we were together, I could never imagine Tony with someone else. He was mine. Always had been, always would be. “Some skanky bar ho?”

“Stop it, Liliana. Grow up, wouldja? She’s a great girl, and I want to ask her to marry me. But I can’t until . . . well, you know.”

“You want a divorce.” My heart cracked around the edges just saying the words.

“Yes, it’s time, isn’t it? It’s been over a year of separation now and I want to get this sorted as quickly and painlessly as possible. I’ve already filed the paperwork so I just need you to look over it, have your attorney check it out—whatever you need to do. I think you’ll agree it’s fair and pretty straightforward. We each take what we brought into the marriage, and Workout Wonder is all yours, obviously. I’ll sign over whatever I need to.”

“This is what you want?”

I was sure he was being manipulated into this.

“Yes. I love her.”

I couldn’t let him go. I wasn’t ready. I’d never be ready. We fit together, were broken when apart.

“Tony, you can’t deny the chemistry between us, and I know she can’t hold a candle to what we had. Why can’t we try again? I swear it won’t be like before. I’m clean. No more pills. I can be a better me—for you, for us.”