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“Sure.” Patrick sounded tired.
Patrick had already dished the miso soup into individual bowls that looked more like cups, set at each place setting. I remembered Patrick telling me that in Japan they bring the bowl to their mouths and drink it instead of using a spoon. Patrick’s family was stationed in Japan while he was growing up. His father began his career as a surgeon for the military. Patrick had spoken fondly of his time there.
I picked up my bowl like everyone else around the table and brought it to my lips. For a moment it calmed my nerves, as the taste brought back sweet memories of the first and only time I had ever tasted the savory and salty broth. After one sip, I set the bowl down and smiled at Patrick. “It’s as good as I remembered.”
Before Patrick could respond, Rory said, “I have some questions for you.”
I sat up straight, ready for the firing squad. “Okay, shoot.” I tried to sound brave.
“Have you been married before?”
“Rory.” Patrick was obviously not pleased with the question.
I gave Patrick’s arm a quick squeeze. “It’s okay. You can ask me anything.” My guess was that I was the first woman Patrick had brought home since Nina’s passing. This had to be difficult for them. I wanted to be as honest as possible, minus the whole fake engagement thing.
Rory flashed me a devious grin, knowing I had handed him a lot of ammunition.
“To answer your question, I was married for fifteen years. I’ve been divorced for two years now.”
“How come you got divorced?” Rory pulled no punches.
I noticed Patrick lowering his bowl, interested in the answer. Which was odd because on our way home from having coffee, he had purposely avoided the topic of our exes. Anytime I had tried to ask him about Nina or brought up my marriage, he’d changed the subject.
“That’s a good question. Honestly, I don’t know. My ex-husband just came to me one day and said we were done.”
Patrick made a noise of disgust.
“Did you do something?” Rory was quite bold.
“Careful, son,” Patrick iterated.
“I get it.” I smiled. “You want to make sure your dad isn’t dating a psycho. I don’t blame you.”
Rory laughed, and even Bridgette seemed to snicker, but she stopped herself when she realized what she was doing.
“The truth is I’m a little crazy. I grocery shop in my pajamas sometimes and eat doughnuts as I peruse.” From the corner of my eye, I swore Bridgette half smiled. “I’m addicted to rom-coms, and I think I’m a rock star in the shower and car and will belt out any Stevie Nicks song that comes on.”
“Who’s Stevie Nicks?” Rory asked.
“Now that hurts.” I felt so old. “I would be happy to introduce you to her music.”
“You didn’t answer if you did something to make your husband leave.” Rory was meant to be a lawyer.
Patrick murmured, embarrassed.
“Well,” I sighed. “I guess you could say that my biggest crime was that I got tired of loving someone who didn’t really love me.”
Rory’s brow hit his hairline. “Dang. That sucks.”
“Yes, but sometimes bad things happen to make room for better things.” I probably read that inReader’s Digest. I turned toward Patrick, hoping, perhaps even daring, to believe he was the better I spoke of.
Patrick offered me a warm smile, saying he was daring to believe.
“Do you have kids?” Rory blurted.
“Uh ... no.” He caught me off guard. “I wasn’t lucky enough to have that opportunity.”
“How come?”
