FOURTEEN

MEREDITH

NOW

Scott reminded me of Kate as he paced our bedroom. Camille had left and we’d all settled into our bedrooms for the night. “I still can’t believe this. I wish you could’ve met Ray. The guy seemed so normal. I’m telling you. Completely normal. And Kate? I mean, she liked going to their meetings, and she was always going to those goofy retreats, but that was just Kate. She got bored easily. She liked to try new things. She was always flitting from one thing to another and was equally passionate about whatever thing it was she was doing. How was I supposed to know there was something off with this one?”

I didn’t say anything. He didn’t really want an answer anyway. I’d tried to interject when his rant started and quickly abandoned the idea after he snapped at me. I would wait until he tired himself out and try again. I stepped into the shower in our master bathroom while he leaned against the counter. I was only half listening as I turned on the water.

Today had been one of the hardest days yet. At least for me. My head had run an endless loop of scenarios, and each new piece of information had sent me spinning back to the beginning, trying to figure things out all over again. I was exhausted and had officially hit the wall. I stuck my head outside the shower curtain. “Do you think we could talk about something else?”

He stopped midsentence and flinched like I’d thrown ice water in his face. “What?”

“I mean . . . it’s just, I’m sorry, honey—I don’t want to make you mad, and I really don’t want to be insensitive, but could we take a break from all the Kate drama? Just for a few minutes? I’m not even saying it has to be all night.”

He pursed his lips together, eyes narrowing. “Sure, honey. What would you like to talk about? Do you want to talk about the Dodgers?”

“Scott, come on. Don’t be like that. This has consumed every waking moment of the last week. It would do us both good to give it a rest.”

He mumbled something underneath his breath before walking out of the bathroom. He didn’t think I’d heard him, but I’d caught everything. He’d said, “You wouldn’t be saying that if James came back from the dead.”

But see, that was the thing. Our situations weren’t the same. Not even close. James had never been my fairy-tale husband—Scott was. I’d never told him that, though, because how did you bring something like that up? Hey, by the way, I love you more than I did my first husband? I could never say that to him because he wouldn’t be able to say it back, and I’d always been okay with that, but what would happen now?

I hurriedly finished washing and toweled myself off, wrapping up in my robe when I was done. I hoped Scott had made his way to bed, but he was sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his computer. I slid into his lap and put my arms around his neck. “Honey, please come to bed and don’t be mad at me. You have to give it a rest. A good night’s sleep will help things look differently in the morning.”