“Ains, I don’t know what happened. To say I freaked out would be a gross understatement.”
“Agreed.”
“I think you know better than anyone—better than I do, even—what was going on. It’s just like you said. I was scared of dying, then Nathan’s accident... I just lost it.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I lost you. I threw you away, and it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. For the past month, I’ve been meditating on it and I’m so, so sorry, Ainsley. You’re the best thing—”
“Why don’t we stop here?” I interrupted. “Apology not accepted. Was that all?”
He put his hand over mine, and it was still there. The tingle. The connection. The familiarity that I used to love with all my heart. My Eric, our life.
Which he’d shat upon.
I pulled my hand back.
He leaned forward, his face earnest and serious, none of that glazed-over zealousness he’d had all through his cancer months.
“You have every right to be mad and hurt,” he said. “Of course you do. And, babe, if I could have a do-over on the past four months, I’d take it in a heartbeat. If you gave me another chance, I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you didn’t regret it. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
“That’s not what you said in the restaurant that night. And that’s not what you blogged about.”
“I think I was having a psychotic break.”
“Oh, please.”
He nodded. “Okay. A midlife crisis, then, a decade or so early?” He smiled, then grew serious again. “Ainsley, for eleven years, we were so perfect together. We’ve had a hundred and thirty-seven months together. I did the math,” he added with a wink. He knew I couldn’t multiply in my head. “Four of those months were me being a complete and total ass. Does that wipe out everything else? Because I did want to marry you. I still do. I want you to be the mother of my—”
“Stop,” I said. “I don’t want to hear this.” But my voice was trembling with an emotion I couldn’t pin down. Anticipation? Happiness? Hate?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. “Let me make it up to you, Ainsley. Marry me. Let’s have that life we were meant to have. I’ll never let you down again.” He gave a crooked smile, his lovely brown eyes warm.
And there was my ring, the first time I’d seen it since the night Nathan died. The beautiful, hypnotic ring.
I suddenly knew what the trembling was. Fury.
“Are you out of your mind?” I said. “You smug, spoiled, entitled little shit. You broke my heart, humiliated me every chance you got, called me a corpse dragging you down, and you think I’m going to marry you?”
“But I’m sorry,” he said, his eyebrows coming together. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was wrong, and now I want to do what’s right. Let me fix this. I didn’t mean what I said or did.”
“I disagree. You did and said exactly what you wanted to. And now that you’ve communed with the Inuit and listened to the wolves and your fifteen minutes of fame is over, you think you can just pick up where we left off? No.”
“But...but... Ainsley, listen. Honey. Listen.” He sat back in his chair and put both hands on the table. “I talked to Ryan Roberts. He’ll interview us on his show.”
Fresh shock slapped the hell out of my face. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“No! I can undo everything I did! I was an ass on television, and now I can go back on the air and eat humble pie and tell the world how much I love you.” He paused. “And you love me. I know you do.”
I stood up and pushed my chair back into the table. “No, Eric, I don’t. I did, but you smashed that, and it doesn’t get glued back together.”
“Well, I know there’s not someone else, because you’re not the type to sleep around for revenge.” He stood up, too. “Are you?”
“My personal life is no longer your business. Good luck with everything.” I opened the slider. Aaron and Judy froze, Ollie leaping around their feet.
They knew. Their faces fell.
“Bye, you two,” I said, and then my eyes did fill with tears. These people had been the family I always wanted. But they weren’t mine anymore. “Thank you for everything.”
“We’ll always love you, sweetheart,” Aaron said, and I choked on a sob. Then I scooped up my dog and left.
Cried all the way home, Ollie whining from the backseat.
When I was in the center of Cambry-on-Hudson, I decided to call Jonathan. “Are the girls there?” I asked.
“No, I just dropped them off with their mother.” There was a pause. “Are you all right?”
“Can I come over?”
“Of course.”
When I parked at his house, I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. My chest and neck were blotchy, and Ollie licked my face, then whimpered to get out.
I went inside, Ollie nearly killing me by tangling in my feet so he could beat me.
“Hello, Oliver,” Jonathan said, bending down to pet him, though his eyes were on me. “Has something made your mommy sad?”
“Eric’s back in town.”
He stood up and folded his arms. Adjusted his gaze so it was over my shoulder. “I see.”
“He wants to get back together. I didn’t even know he was back, but his parents called me, and—”
“Oh, no, by all means, get back together,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “You have eleven years with him, right? So what if he humiliated you in front of eight million people and left you so he could find his spirit animal in Alaska? Absolutely, you should get married and have little Erics and—”
“I said no, idiot.”
That stopped him. “Oh.”
“And it wasn’t because of you, either, so don’t think that.”
He blinked. “Why was it, then?”
“Because! Because he’s a self-centered, narcissistic ass-pain who didn’t appreciate all the love I gave him and thought there was something better out there and now he’s found out that there’s not, but you know what? Too little, too late.”
“I see.”
“Yes, you should see! Did you really think I’d get back together with him?”
“I probably shouldn’t have—”
I jammed my hands on my hips. “Well, why wouldn’t you? You have no idea who I am, do you? You made me sign that paper so I wouldn’t sue you, as if I would. And you make us date in secret. And you won’t let your kids see me, which I actually respect. Still, it hasn’t escaped my attention that you’re probably 60 percent in love with me and 40 percent positive I’m a terrible idea. So don’t worry, Jonathan. I’m not counting on you for anything. I didn’t tear Eric a new orifice because I have a secret boyfriend. I did it for me. He doesn’t deserve me.”
“Got it.”
“By the way, I quit.”
The grandfather clock ticked from the living room. Ollie dragged a throw pillow off the couch and curled up on it.
“Yeah,” I said more quietly. “I quit. It’s time, don’t you think?”
“I...I don’t know.”
“I do.” He was standing very, very still, and it occurred to me that he hadn’t contradicted me once. “I would still like to date you, by the way,” I said. “Even if we’re only dating 60 percent.”