Chapter 23 Emma
"Can I ask you something?" I said, setting the cup down.
"Anything."
"Why her?" I looked him in the eyes. "Of all people. Sarah was your friend. You'd known her for years. Why risk it with her?"
David was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful. Honest.
"Because it was easy," he said. "We had history.
We understood each other's work, our stress levels, the pressure of the job.
When we started working together on the Henderson case, it felt like stepping back into something familiar.
Something that didn't require me to explain or justify or apologize for working late. "
"I never asked you to apologize for working."
"I know. But Emma, you'd given up so much for me.
Every time I came home late, every time I missed dinner, every time I chose the office over being home with you.
I… I felt guilty. And that guilt made me resent you, even though none of it was your fault.
It was easier to be with someone who didn't make me feel that way. "
I absorbed that. "So you're saying I made you feel guilty, and that's why—"
"No." He cut me off quickly. "No. I made myself feel guilty because I knew I was failing you.
I knew I was taking everything you gave and not giving anything back.
And instead of fixing that, instead of being honest and either changing or ending things properly, I found someone who didn't expect anything from me.
Someone who was just as consumed by work as I was.
" He paused. "It was cowardice. Not your fault. Mine."
I looked at him. Really looked at him. There was something different in his face now… not just the apology, not just the remorse, but actual understanding. Like he'd spent three years picking apart every choice he'd made and finally understood how he'd gotten there.
"Did you love her?" The question came out quieter than I intended.
"No." He didn't hesitate. "I thought maybe I did, at first. Or I told myself I did to justify what I was doing.
But no. It was just... escape. Novelty. The thrill of something forbidden.
" He met my eyes. "She ended it fast too.
Walked away like it had been nothing. And it had been nothing.
To her, to me. Just a massive act of self-destruction that hurt the one person who'd actually loved me. "
My chest tightened. "Did you love me?"
"Yes." His voice cracked. "God, Emma, yes. I loved you. I still—" He stopped himself. "I loved you. And I destroyed us anyway because I was too selfish and too stupid to appreciate what I had."
I wanted to be angry at that answer. Wanted it to be simpler: that he'd never loved me, that it had all been a lie, that I could write off eight years as a mistake from the start.
But the truth was messier than that. He had loved me. And he'd hurt me anyway.
Maybe that was worse.
"I see you doing the work now," I said after a long moment. "The DV cases. The pro bono practice. Helping people who actually need you instead of corporations trying to avoid liability."
David looked up, surprised.
"I'm not blind, David. Eighteen referrals in nine months. You've been showing up." I paused. "You're not the same person you were."
"I'm trying not to be."
"I can see that." I looked down at my hands. "And I don't hate you anymore. I haven't for a while, actually. I realized that a few weeks ago."
Something shifted in his expression. Hope, maybe. Or just relief that I didn't actively despise him.
"But not hating you doesn't mean I trust you," I continued. "Or that I've forgiven you. Or that any of this is okay now."
"I understand."
"Do you?" I leaned forward slightly. "Because none of it erases what you did. It doesn't give me back what I lost. And it doesn't mean I'm willing to risk getting hurt by you again."
"I know," he said quietly. "I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking?"
He was quiet for a moment. "I guess... I just wanted you to know.
That I understand what I did. That I'm sorry.
That I see who you've become and I'm… I'm proud of you.
For rebuilding. For going back to school.
For becoming an NP and helping people and building a life you're proud of.
" He took a shaky breath. "And I wanted to say that out loud.
To you. Not through lawyers or professional emails. Just... person to person."
I sat back in my chair, processing.
This wasn't what I'd expected. I'd expected excuses or defensiveness or an attempt to minimize what he'd done. Maybe even an attempt to win me back.
But this was just... honesty.
It didn't fix anything.
But it mattered.
"I knew something was wrong," I said quietly. "Before I found the messages. I knew."
David looked at me.
"The way you'd angle your phone away when I walked into a room.
How you started showering as soon as you got home.
The way you stopped touching me unless I initiated it first." I picked at the edge of the table.
"I saw all of it. And I told myself I was being paranoid.
That you were just stressed about work. That I was imagining things. "
"Emma—"
"I'm not saying it's my fault. It's not." I looked up at him. "But I think part of me knew and I just... didn't want to see it. Because if I saw it, I'd have to deal with it. And I didn't know how to deal with the possibility that my marriage was falling apart."
David was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to carry that. The knowing and the not-knowing at the same time."
"Me too." I let out a breath. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you'd just told me you were unhappy. If you'd said, 'Emma, I don't think this is working anymore' instead of..."
"Instead of destroying everything." He finished the thought. "I wonder that too. I think about it all the time, actually. How different things could have been if I'd just been honest."
"Would you have left me for her?"
"No." He said it with certainty. "If I'd been honest with myself, I would have realized I didn't want to leave you for anyone.
I just wanted to escape feeling like I was failing you.
And Sarah was the escape, not the solution.
" He paused. "If I'd been brave enough to actually talk to you about how I was feeling, we might have fixed it.
Or ended things cleanly. Either way would have been better than what I did. "
I nodded slowly. He was right. Either outcome would have been better.
"What's your life like now?" I asked, surprising myself with the question. "Outside of work, I mean."
David seemed surprised too. "Quieter. Simpler." He thought about it. "I have coffee with my dad once a month. Marcus and I grab dinner sometimes. I run in the mornings. Read a lot more than I used to." A small smile. "I'm not very interesting, honestly."
"You're sober too."
"Three years." He said it like it mattered. Like he was proud of it.
"That's good. That's really good."
"What about you?" he asked. "What's your life like?"
I thought about how to answer that. "Good. Busy. We hired another NP at the clinic, so now I'm doing more administrative work. Training, program development. It's not what I expected, but I like it." I paused. "I started running again too. Did my first 10K last month."
"That's amazing. You always loved running."
"Yeah." I smiled slightly. "I forgot how much I missed it."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Not the painful, awkward silence from the beginning. Just... space. Two people existing in the same room without it hurting.
"I'm glad you're doing well," David said finally. "Really glad. You deserve to be happy."
"So do you," I said. And meant it.
His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn't expected that.
"I mean it," I continued. "You made terrible choices. You hurt me in ways I'm still recovering from. But David, you're clearly trying to become someone better. And I think... I think you deserve a chance to be happy too. Even if it's not with me."
"Thank you," he said quietly. "That means more than you know."
I looked at him across the table. Three years ago, I would have said I'd never be able to sit in a room with him without wanting to scream. Six months ago, I would have said I'd never be able to have a conversation with him without feeling that old anger rise up.
But now, sitting here, I just felt... calm. Like maybe we could both move forward. Maybe not together, but not as enemies either.
"I should go," I said finally.
David nodded. "Of course."
We both stood. For a moment, we just looked at each other, neither of us sure what the protocol was. Hug? Handshake? Nothing?
I settled for a small nod, grabbing my jacket from the back of the chair.
"The referrals," I said. "The DV cases. Keep sending them to the clinic. We have the capacity, and your clients need the help."
Something shifted in David's expression. Relief, maybe. "I will. Thank you."
"It's not for you," I said. But my voice was softer than I intended. "It's for them."
"I know."
I turned to leave, got three steps toward the door, then stopped. Looked back.
David was still standing by the table, watching me. Not hopeful, exactly. Just... present. Waiting to see what I'd say.
"I don't know what this is," I admitted. "What we are now."
"That's okay." His voice was gentle. "We don't have to figure it out today."
I nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Thank you for coming, Emma. For listening. For being honest with me." He paused. "It means everything."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just gave him one more nod and walked out.
The cool October air hit my face as I stepped onto the sidewalk. I stood there for a moment, just breathing, trying to process what had just happened.
Three years. Three years of anger and grief and rebuilding. And now... what?
I didn't hate him. I'd told him that, and it was true. I could even see him becoming someone worth knowing again. Someone doing good work, helping people, trying to be better.
But that didn't mean I could trust him. Didn't mean I could risk letting him back into my life in any real way.
Did it?
I started walking home, hands shoved in my pockets, mind spinning.
My phone buzzed. Jess.
How did it go? Are you okay? Do I need to come over? Do I need to kill him?
Despite everything, I smiled.
I'm okay. I'll call you later. Promise.
Her response was immediate:
I'm holding you to that. Love you.
Love you too.
I put my phone away and kept walking. The city was waking up now—more people on the streets, cafés filling up with the Saturday brunch crowd, the weekend energy that made everything feel lighter than it was.
I'd sat across from David. I'd told him everything I needed to say. I'd listened to him apologize, watched him take responsibility, seen the person he'd become.
And I'd walked away.
Not because I hated him. Not because I couldn't forgive him.
But because I didn't know what came next, and that was okay. I didn't have to know. Not today.
I had my life. My work. My friends. My morning runs and my NP career and the small apartment I'd made my own.
I had me.
And maybe that was enough.
For now.