James looked down at his mug.
My stomach tightened.
“About the open marriage?”
“About you. He wanted me to tell him he wasn’t crazy for thinking you’d agree.”
I stared at him.
“He thought I wanted this?”
“No.”
“About the open marriage?”
James didn’t soften it.
“He thought you’d hate it.”
“Then why would I agree?”
James held my gaze.
“Because he didn’t think you’d leave him.”
“He thought you’d hate it.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him if he already knew you’d hate it, then he wasn’t offering you freedom. He was testing how far he could push you and still have you stay.”
He paused.
“He was asking how much you’d tolerate.”
Sean knew it would hurt me.
“What did you tell him?”
He just believed I’d stay anyway.
James stood.
“Taylor.”
I looked up.
He didn’t tell me what to do.
“Whatever you do next, make sure you chose it.”
He just believed I’d stay anyway.
That sentence stayed with me.
***
That evening, I typed:
“Would you have dinner with me Friday?”
Then I deleted it and called him instead.
He answered.
“Would you have dinner with me Friday?”
“Hey.”
“Would you take me to dinner?”
There was silence.
Then James said, “No.”
My face burned.
“Okay.”
“Would you take me to dinner?”
“Taylor, I need to explain. If you’re asking because you actually want dinner with me, ask me again after you’ve thought about it.”
“And if I’m asking because Sean will hate it?”
“Then don’t.”
I frowned.
“Maybe I have more than one reason.”
“Then don’t.”
“Then figure out which reason gets to drive this.”
I didn’t call him the next day.
Instead, I went to pottery class.
I ruined a bowl so badly that the woman beside me asked if it was supposed to tilt.
Driving home with clay beneath my nails, I realized I hadn’t thought about Sean for nearly three hours.
I went to pottery class.
***
On Thursday, I called James.
“Dinner Friday?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to. And because Sean will hate it.”
James laughed softly.
“That’s more honest.”
“Dinner Friday?”
“Seven?”
“Seven. I’ll pick you up.”
***
Friday evening, I put on the red dress I hadn’t worn in years.
I almost changed before Sean appeared in the doorway.
“Where are you going?”
“On a date.”
“Seven. I’ll pick you up.”
His expression changed.
“With who?”
“That’s none of your business,” I said with a smile.
