CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
NORA
Month Eleven
A full year sounds reasonable until the final two months become a test I never intended to administer.
Rhett does not become perfect.
He forgets a foundation call after an away game. He arrives at my apartment irritable and tries to solve a publishing problem I only wanted to complain about. I cancel dinner for a deadline and tell him too late. He retreats for half a day instead of saying the change frightened him.
We argue.
Not beautifully.
In my kitchen, with pasta cooling between us, I say, "You are doing it again. Turning my schedule into proof I am leaving."
He says, "You are doing it again too. Deciding I will react badly and withholding information until there is no room to react well."
Both statements are true.
The old marriage would have swallowed the conflict beneath travel and games. The new relationship stays at the table.
"I should have told you earlier," I say.
"I should have said I was disappointed instead of becoming cold."
"I am still canceling."
"I know."
"You may be angry."
"I am. I also love you."
We do not have sex to prove the argument ended. He goes home. I meet the deadline. The next day, we discuss what happened with Amara.
Change is not the absence of old instincts.
It is refusing to let them make every decision.
At the studio, I open the velvet pouch containing our rings.
I place mine on my finger.
Only for a moment.
The gold fits exactly as it did before.
I remove it again.
I am not afraid of the ring.
I am waiting to choose it.