“Did you kiss him?”
“No.”
He stood.
“This stops now.”
“What stops?”
“The open marriage,” he said.
“This stops now.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s destroying us.”
“You were fine last week.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
He looked away.
“Because it’s destroying us.”
“Did the women stop being interesting?”
“No.”
“Did you stop wanting them?”
His jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Then what changed?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
I answered for him.
“Me. Right?”
Sean turned away.
I let the silence sit between us.
Then I said, “James told me you called him.”
“Me. Right?”
Sean froze.
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
“I needed advice, Tay.”
“No. You needed somebody to tell you I’d tolerate this.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I needed advice, Tay.”
“You knew I didn’t want it.”
“I knew you’d be upset.”
“And you asked anyway.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I knew you loved this family too much to leave.”
“I knew you’d be upset.”
“No.”
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
“You knew I was afraid to lose it.”
Sean looked at me.
“I knew you wouldn’t leave.”
Sean looked at me.
Neither of us moved.
There it was.
He hadn’t gambled with our marriage because he trusted it.
He’d gambled with it because he trusted my fear.
“I need space,” I said. “I mean it, Sean.”
“Taylor, come on.”
“I mean it, Sean.”
“No.”
“I said I’ll stop seeing people.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“What else do you want?”
Three weeks earlier, I wouldn’t have known.
Now I did.
“That isn’t enough.”
“I want a marriage where my love isn’t used as leverage.”
He stared at me.
“So you’re leaving me?”
“I haven’t decided whether our marriage ends.”
His face changed.
“But the old one already did.”
“So you’re leaving me?”
***
We separated quietly, without screaming or dramatic suitcase scenes in front of Atlas and Cody.
We told the boys together that we were dealing with grown-up problems and that both of us loved them.
Sean stayed elsewhere for a while.
I spoke privately with an attorney before making any permanent decisions.
We both started counseling.
Sean stayed elsewhere for a while.
Madeline never told me what to do.
One evening, she came over with enough food for six people.
“You don’t have to feed me,” I said.
“I disagree.”
I laughed.
“You don’t have to feed me.”
She put the container in my refrigerator.
“I love my son.”
