Page 78 of High Water

“Is that how you and Ethan were? Professional and polite?” I’m beginning to understand why it ended.

“I don’t see how that has any bearing.”

“I just want to know what Fallon’s normal was.”

“Fallon’s normal was usually not having both of us around at the same time. He was gone most of the winter months with hockey. I was gone most of the summer with field school. The rest of the time…” She shrugs. “It was a very big house. We had our own offices and rooms we spent time in.”

“Did you have separate beds or just a pillow wall?” I shouldn’t press my luck by asking, but I feel like knowing her normal will help me navigate this. Not to mention my jealous streak is a mile wide when it comes to her. That he had her all those years and I didn’t is going to eat away at me every bit as much as the fact that my daughter called him Dad for most of her childhood.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Sounds like separate beds then.”

“We sometimes slept in separate beds. Yes. We had different schedules. He had late practices well into the evening, and I had classes I taught early in the morning. We did what we had to do to make things work, and I resent you implying that meant something about my marriage.”

“Didn’t it? If you’re already remarried?” I smirk because I can’t help myself. I know it’s not helping my case. For certain, when her scowl intensifies.

“We had sex. That wasn’t the problem.”

“So what was all that talk about possibilities and younger men?”

“Divorce talk.” She’s curt in her reply, and I scrub a hand over my face, running my fingers through my hair before I say something I’ll regret.

“If you slept in separate beds with him, why does it matter if we do? That’s what Fallon’s used to, right?”

“It happened more frequently the closer we got to divorce. I don’t want her to think we’re going to get divorced. We’re supposed to be so madly in love we couldn’t wait to get married.”

“I don’t think she’s going to buy that.”

“Well, we have to sell it.”

“Then tell me how we get you to take a breath and relax.”

“Did you just tell me to relax? Because I promise that is the quickest way for it not to happen.” She tenses up, and I do my best to retreat.

“No, I asked how I make it possible for you to breathe easier. That’s what I’m trying to do here. I’ll sleep wherever you want. Shower wherever you want. However you want. I’ll touch you. I won’t touch you. You just have to tell me what the guidelines are so I can follow them.”

“If this is a dig about last night…” She eyes me.

“It’s not a dig. You told me it was a mistake. I accepted it. This is me just trying to make sure we don’t make any more.”

“So you thought it was a mistake?” The sharp edge to her tone has dropped, and the question is an honest one.

“Honey, I told you I’m a simple man. I’m happy with whatever you’re happy with.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You want the honest truth, or is that gonna get us into another round of trouble?”

“I want honesty.”

“Then no, I don’t think it was a mistake.” It was the best night I’ve had in a long time. Since the last time I was with her, if I’m brutally honest. But I can’t say that without making her run. She’s like a nervous mustang who’s not ready to be roped—wary and mistrusting of every move you make. Move too quickly or talk too loudly and she’ll bolt. “But what I think doesn’t matter. Because to you it was a mistake, and I respect that.”

“I didn’t mean that as harsh as it came out this morning. It just feels awkward to talk about in the bright light of day. This whole thing is so very awkward, and I hate feeling off-kilter like that.”

“Did you feel off-kilter last night?”

“Honestly?”