"It's the only one I have."
I look at him. Really look at him. He won't meet my eyes. "If you were thinking about me," I say, "you'd only need to walk into our bedroom and take me. I'm right there. Every night. Waiting."
He winces. The silence stretches. He has nothing to say because I'm right. "I promise I don't want a divorce," he finally says.
It's been so long since I asked, the answer doesn't hold any weight. "Then what do you want?"
"I want us to be okay."
"We're so far from okay we're not even in the same universe," I answer.
"I know." He reaches for my hand, but I pull back. "Julie, please. I'm asking you to be patient. I've been a terrible husband. I don't want to lose us."
"You're already losing us, Asher. You've been losing us for months and you haven’t even noticed."
He shakes his head. "I notice."
"Do you? Because it feels like you're going through the motions. Like you're staying because you have to, not because you want to."
"That's not true."
"Prove it." I look at him directly. "Stop telling me things will get better and actually make them better. Stop treating me like an obligation and start treating me like your wife."
He nods. "I will. I promise."
It feels empty. I think because it is. "I guess we'll see," I sigh and turn to go back inside.
"Julie."
I stop but don't turn around.
"I mean it," he says. "I don't want to lose you."
I don't respond. I walk back into the house and close the door. And as I make my way up to the bedroom to get dressed for the day, I wonder if anything he just said was true.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
JULIE
On Friday Ashertakes me to dinner at El Gaucho, a restaurant where we'd celebrated our engagement. I remember loving it at the time. I’d worn a blue dress with a high slit and he couldn't keep his hands off me in the car on the way home.
Tonight, I’m in another blue dress, a nod back to that night. Asher gives a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Clearly this night and that one are not the same. He orders wine. I let him choose because I don't care what we drink.
"This is nice," Asher says.
"It is."
"I'm glad we're doing this."
"Me too."
It hits me that in all likelihood, neither of us are glad we’re doing this. The conversation is stilted. We talk about work. He tells me about a contract negotiation that's been dragging on for weeks. I tell him about the new scents Jamie and I are developing for fall. He asks questions about that and then about how my mom is doing on her latest retiree cruise. We laughabout how crazy it is that my mom has embraced the serial cruiser life.
Then we talk about the house down the block that just went up for sale. It feels like I’m talking to someone I haven’t seen in a long time. Either that or like we’re two people trying to remember why they liked each other in the first place. It’s so awkward that I flinch when Asher reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"I know things have been hard," he says. "But I want to fix this. I want us to be okay."
