Chapter 2

Four days later, Ethan is waiting outside my office with flowers.

For a second, the sight of him stops me.

He's wearing the coat I bought him last Christmas. His hair is slightly damp from the rain, and he looks relieved when he sees me.

"There you are."

He steps forward and holds out the bouquet.

White lilies.

Sophie's favorite.

I keep my hands in my pockets.

"How did you know when I'd be leaving?"

"I'm your husband, Claire. I know your schedule."

He says it like an accusation.

People move around us on their way to the parking garage. I step away from the doors.

"What do you want?"

His smile slips.

"To see you. You've barely answered me."

"I told you I'm safe."

"You said you were at a hotel. You didn't even tell me which one."

"I didn't want you coming over."

He looks down at the flowers, then back at me.

"Are we really still doing this?"

I'm suddenly tired.

Not angry. Not surprised.

Just tired.

"I have somewhere to be."

"Come home." He moves closer. "I miss you."

For one foolish second, I want to believe him.

Then he adds, "The place is a mess. Nobody's had a decent meal all week."

I look at the bouquet again.

He follows my gaze.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I thought you'd like them."

"Sophie likes lilies."

"You like flowers."

He sounds impatient now, as though I'm deliberately missing the point.

"I thought we could have dinner," he says. "You could make those ribs. It's been forever."

I don't eat ribs.

I haven't since a stomach bug put me off them two summers ago.

Sophie asked for them the first week she moved in. Ethan told her I made the best ones she'd ever taste.

"Does she know you're here?" I ask.

"Of course she knows. She feels terrible about everything."

"Does she?"

"She said she never meant to come between us."

Across the street, a car horn sounds. Someone behind me laughs into a phone.

It's strange how ordinary the evening feels.

For months, I've waited for Ethan to understand what has been happening in our home.

He understands.

He just expects me to accept it.

Six weeks ago, a man followed me out of a train station after work.

When I crossed the street, he crossed, too. When I stopped outside a grocery store, he waited near the entrance.

I went inside and called Ethan.

"I can't leave right now," he said.

"Could you come get me? Please?"

"Ask someone at the store to walk you out."

I took a cab home.

Ethan and Sophie were at the dining table when I arrived, surrounded by little bags of colored beads. They were making a picture from a kit she'd ordered.

"You didn't tell me it was serious," he said later.

"I told you someone was following me."

"But you got home, didn't you?"

The finished picture is hanging where our wedding photo used to be.

Now Ethan holds out the lilies again.

"Take them. My arm's getting tired."

"No, thank you."

"Claire."

"I'm not coming home."

He exhales through his nose.

"Okay. Fine. Bring the cat."

I look at him.

"I talked to Sophie," he says. "She's willing to try. We just need some rules. Keep it out of the kitchen, vacuum more often—"

"Her."

"What?"

"Mochi is a she."

He closes his eyes briefly.

"Whatever. You know what I mean."

I think of the hotel room. The little litter box in the bathroom. Mochi sleeping against my stomach instead of hiding under the bed whenever footsteps pass.

For the first time in months, I've been sleeping through the night.

"I want a divorce."

Ethan stares at me.

Then he gives a short laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm contacting a lawyer."

His expression changes.

"Over a cat?"

I say nothing.

"I show up here with flowers. I tell you to bring it home. What else do you want from me?"

A woman coming through the doors glances at us. Ethan notices and lowers his voice.

"Come on. We can talk about this in the car."

He reaches for my elbow.

I step back before he touches me.

His hand stays in the air for a moment.

"Five years," he says. "You're throwing away five years because I put a cat outside?"

"I called you six times."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You knew where she was. You let me keep looking."

"I was trying to get you to listen."

"I am listening."

He looks at me, finally quiet.

"You told me I could come home without her," I say. "I'm telling you neither of us is coming back."

I walk toward the corner to meet my ride.

This time, he doesn't follow.