The Amendment (Arrangement #2)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

AINSLEY

“ Y ou seem distracted tonight,” I whispered, handing Peter a glass of wine as I sat down next to him on the sofa.

“Do I?” He took a sip, eyes locked on the TV.

“Yeah…”

He didn’t respond, but leaned his head over toward my shoulder as if to placate me. Was it all just a habit with him? Was he only doing what he thought I wanted him to?

Where did he go when his mind wandered?

How often had I accepted him physically when mentally he refused to stay with me?

“Hey, did I tell you I heard from Glennon?”

“You did?”

“Mhm. Apparently she met someone in Canada.”

“Canada?” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s she going to do with someone up there?”

“I have no idea. They’re just going to dinner.”

I’d killed for the man I loved, and he was acting like it was ridiculous to get on a flight for someone .

“Hm.”

“I, um, I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the kids, but,” I lowered my voice, “a detective came by earlier today.”

He tensed, turning his head to look at me and muting the TV. I lifted up, so we were eye to eye. “A detective?”

“Yeah, asking about Coach Chris.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that until now?” He set his glass of wine down on the coffee table, sloshing a bit of it out onto the wood.

“It wasn’t a big deal. She asked if Maisy had ever mentioned anything about him being inappropriate.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no, of course.”

“And what else?” A wrinkle had formed on his forehead.

“That was basically it. She gave me her card and asked us to call if we heard anything from him. She said that no one’s heard from him in a while and they want to ask him some questions.”

“Did she seem suspicious of you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not at all. I told her we loved Coach and he’d been good to Maisy. I might’ve dropped a few mentions of him doing a lot of private sessions to really lay it on, but—”

“You what?” His hand went into the air in disbelief. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, it was fine.”

“You don’t know that. What if she thinks you know something now? ”

“She doesn’t, Peter. Jesus, calm down.”

He picked his glass back up, moving farther from me on the couch. For once, I didn’t follow him.

“Oh, there was one more thing. She, um, she did mention that his girlfriend is missing as well. Joanna.” I cocked my head to the side. “Had you heard anything about that?”

“No.” He scowled. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know, I just thought you might’ve…”

“Well, I haven’t. Don’t know why I would’ve.”

I stared at him, taking in the profile of his face, the curve of his lips. Lips I’d once loved to kiss. His hand gripped the wineglass the way it had once held me.

Who were we kidding anymore?

Why was I still holding on to an illusion that there was something I could do to make him change? To make him love me again?

Once, I’d thought a loyalty to me would be enough, thought staying together no matter what would be enough.

Now, I knew differently. For so long, I’d thought I could love him hard enough to fix him. All the while, he was breaking me.

I stood up, kissing his temple.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To get a refill.” I wiggled my glass at him as I crossed the room. In the kitchen, I began to pour myself another glass of wine.

“Bring me some, will you?”

I stopped, staring at the wine bottle and remembering the many nights we’d shared glasses of wine to celebrate special occasions. I thought back over the many bottles we’d been gifted at our wedding, the times he’d order my favorite wine at a restaurant before I’d had the chance, the birthdays and anniversaries where we’d opened a bottle once the house had gone quiet and the kids were down for bed.

Things had been good once, they truly had.

I wasn’t delusional.

I could remember him. Before.

Before it all changed.

When I was the whole world to him.

But we hadn’t been those people in a long time. It was time to stop kidding myself.

When I made it back into the living room with just the bottle in my hand, it took a second for him to notice me.

“Where’s your glass?”

“I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I have a headache.”

“Hm… Want me to get you some medicine?”

“Nah, I think it’s from the wine. Lying down will help.” I paused—one last-ditch effort on my tongue. “Want to join me?”

“I want to catch the news,” he said simply. “I’ll be in there soon, though.”

I nodded, placing the wine bottle down in front of him. No sooner had I done so than he’d scooped it up and filled his glass to the brim. I kissed his head one last time .

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.” He barely glanced my way, breaking my heart for the final time as I headed for the bedroom.

Once I had, I grabbed a bag and began to pack.