Book 4 - Page 90 (1/2)
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it, of “doing lunch” almost like one would with a client. I’d essentially forfeited my job so I could stay with him, and he was going to have dinner with his ex-wife to discuss reconciliation.
Was this really happening?
I nodded, jaw tight, unable to even look at him. “Sure.”
Tilting his head, he asked, “Could you tell me what happened with Tony? We exchanged words earlier. He urged Richard to put a rather strongly worded letter in my file. Hopefully I’ve borne the brunt of what happened between us in New York.”
Between us. In New York.
Not last night. Not the night I pushed you so far you’re considering going back to a woman who made you miserable, but left you alone in your sh.e.l.l.
“Oh, yeah,” I said absently, sinking into an odd numbness. I stood, walking toward the door. “He basically just gave me a letter, too.”
SIXTEEN
Niall
Despite my suggestion that we meet somewhere neutral, Portia insisted I come to her flat—our old flat—for dinner. I’d had an odd weight in my gut since talking to Ruby, some residue of regret about the conversation. I’d texted her as I left the office, saying I would call later, or come ’round if she liked, but she hadn’t answered. I knew she was a bit offended that I wanted to talk to Portia at all, and I couldn’t exactly blame her. But I hoped, too, that she understood the intent behind it. After all, I wasn’t here hoping to reconcile with Portia; I was with Ruby now. We were an us.
But Ruby made a good point: then why was I meeting my ex-wife for dinner? Could I honestly say the only reason I agreed was to let Portia speak her piece so we could both truly move on? Was there a part of me—no matter how small—that wondered if we could find a better place together, with more communication? We knew each other’s rhythms, after all. It would be easy to slip back to it.
But the thought turned sour in my mind and guilt clawed its way up my throat. I had truly moved on. I didn’t look back on my marriage with longing or any type of ache. It had been lonely and pa.s.sionless. It hadn’t even felt like being married to a best friend; it had nearly felt like cohabitation with a colleague.
What could I expect her to say that would change how I viewed any of that? Was I going just because, in my new happiness, I simply felt bad for my ex-wife?
I wanted to call Ruby before I went to dinner, to tell her that, no, Portia honestly had no chance, and maybe that was wrong of me to let her think she did by my coming, but a dark and furtive part of me was simply curious: Portia had never in our relations.h.i.+p sounded as open and pleading as she had on the phone that morning.