The movie ends eventually. We walk out into the bright afternoon sun, blinking against the light. Devon stretches, her shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin at her waist. I look away again.
"That was fun," she says.
"Yeah."
"Thanks for taking me out. I know you're busy."
"I wanted to."
She smiles. "I'm glad."
We drive home in comfortable silence. The sun is starting to set, casting everything in gold. Devon hums along to the radio, her fingers tapping against her thigh. I focus on the road. On not thinking about the way she felt pressed against me in the theater. On not thinking about how easy it would be to reach over and touch her hand.
When we pull into the garage, I turn off the car and sit there for a moment. Devon doesn't move either. We're both just sitting here in silence. "We need to act like we didn't do this," I say finally.
She nods. "Obviously. Julie would be upset."
"Yeah. I’m going to leave and come back in about an hour, just after she gets home.”
"Okay." Devon opens her door and gets out.
I drive around for a while, only going home after Devon texts that Julie is home. When I get inside, Julie is in the living room, curled up on the couch with her laptop. She looks up when I walk in.
"Hey," she says. "How was work?"
"Fine. Long day."
"Devon's upstairs. She seemed happy."
"Good."
Julie goes back to her laptop. I stand there for a moment, watching her. She doesn't look at me. Doesn't ask how I'm doing or if I want to talk. She's just there, existing in the same space, but we might as well be on different planets. I go upstairs. Devon's door is closed. I can hear music playing softly inside. I stand there for a second, my hand hovering near the doorknob. Then I drop my hand and walk to my bedroom.
Julie comes up an hour later. She gets ready for bed in silence. We lie there in the dark, not touching, not speaking. And I think about Devon. About the way she felt pressed against me. About the way she looked at me when the movie ended.
I'm not ready to cross that line yet. But I'm aware of it now. I'm aware of her. And I know, lying in the dark next to my wife, that it's only a matter of time.
I just have to make it to the trust distribution. Then I can stop pretending. Then I can be free. I close my eyes and let myself imagine it. A life without Julie. Without the constant guiltand resentment and exhaustion. A life where I don't have to apologize for existing.
I feel myself smiling as I drift to sleep.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
JULIE
This week,Devon turned eighteen. Her first birthday without her mother. I invited Ryan and my sister to celebrate with us. I'd broached the idea of inviting other people, but Devon said that would make her anxious, so I followed her lead.
When the doorbell rings at six, I open it to find Ryan with a woman I don't recognize. She's striking—black hair, warm brown eyes, a genuine smile that reaches all the way up. His dates are honestly always the absolute sweetest.
"Julie, this is Wynona," Ryan says. "Wynona, this is Julie."
"It's so nice to meet you!" Wynona extends her hand.
"Nice to meet you too." I shake her hand and step back to let them in. She's an interior designer, she tells me as we walk to the kitchen. She's working on a renovation in Queen Anne. She asks thoughtful questions about the house, compliments the built-ins in the living room.
She's lovely. Genuinely sweet. And I know better than to get attached. So I'm polite. I smile. I pour wine and make small talk. But I keep my distance.
