Page 89 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“But that’s the thing,” he says, leaning forward. And I swear to God the man looks like a kid who just got back from Disneyland for the first time and wants to tell me all about it. “I am seeing it clearly. For the first time in…years…I am seeing the marriage clearly. I am seeing where we went wrong and where we could be better, and the abundance of love that still exists, and I just…” he shakes his head, at a loss for words. And it’s in that moment I know I’ve lost him.

I take in a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated sigh.

“So that’s it, huh?” I ask. “Everything you told me, everything that was building up inside of you, percolating to the point that you were willing to drop tens of thousands of dollars on a great lawyer is just…gone? Just…poof? Non-existent.”

“You do charge a lot…” he says, scratching his chin for a moment. Then the smile returns. “But yeah. I am sure that everything we have been through, everything we have yet to go through, is reconcilable,” Michael tells me.

And with that, I shove up from my chair, facing the window with my back to him for a moment. I lace my hands behind my head and bite my lips, choosing my words.

“Listen,” I say, still looking out the window. “It’s not that I want to see your marriage end. I don’t enjoy watching marriages end, contrary to what a lot of people say…”

“They do say that about you…” he chuckles objectively.

“It’s that more often than not I see it happen. And when it happens, it’s explosive. The collateral damage is irreversible.You,” I turn around to point a finger at him. “Are the damage, Mike. You are the one who is going to get hurt when it all falls apart. Therapy is just…a band-aid for most people. It works for some, but it’s more like…a way to buy time. Time that you can’t get back. Time when you should be freeing yourself from the pain and everything you’ve lost in your relationship.”

I stop, unsure how else to explain it. To explain what I’ve seen and what I’ve been through. And it hits me that more than anything, I am talking about myself. And I guess, despite the way I feel about love right now, based on current events, it doesn’t negate the facts in general.

“I see a lot of my former self in you, Mike,” I tell him. And it’s not a sales tactic. It’s not gaslighting or manipulation. It’s true. “And I see a lot of similarities between Ashley and…” I stop. I never say her name anymore. I refuse.

“Someone who broke your heart?” he asks carefully, and that alone is enough to yank out some of the stitches. Stitches that still hurt because they are covered in scar tissue.

My silence and the chewing of the inside of my cheek answer his question for me.

“Maybe that’s the difference then,” he says. “Maybe I am like you. Maybe I’ve been hurt, and that’s what fueled me walking into your office in the first place. But I’m not so sure she…whoever she is…is like Ashley. Because Ashley was hurt too. By me. And both of us want to repair that damage.”

Again, I don’t say anything. I am ready for this conversation to be over. This case will be a shredder. It’s a loss I can handle, even though it is festering under my skin.

“I’m just grateful. Grateful that Ashley fought so hard for us. Hard enough to seek out the agency that connected us with the perfect couple’s therapist. Grateful that you fought for me too, even though the fight has changed and I no longer need your services.”

I stop dead at that, and my eyes lock on him hard.

“What did you say?” I ask.

“I’m grateful,” he reiterates, and I shake my head.

“Not that. Did you say agency?” I ask.

“Yes,” he nods.

“What agency?” I grit out.

“It’s a nonprofit that helps connect married couples on the brink of divorce to therapists for–”

“We Still Do,” I say, and he stops.

“Yes. That’s the one. They’re amazing. And our therapist has been–”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” I snap, and he stops.

“What is it? Have you heard of them?” he asks, and I chortle with a smileless laugh.

“Oh, I’ve heard of them,” I say.

“It was them and their therapists that changed our path. The connection between Ashley’s lawyer and Quinn Delaney was all pretty fateful as well,” he goes on, and for the second time, I feel jarred.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean…Ashley went to the agency, to Quinn, before getting a lawyer. Because of my insistence that we were going to go through with a divorce, Quinn advised she lawyer up still. To be safe. Of course, Ashley didn’t know any divorce lawyers, so Quinn recommended Grant Bowen.”