Chapter 3
Josephine
I LET MYSELF INTO THE house just after two, and the quiet wrapped around me immediately. Our home had always been my favorite place in the world. Today it was too large.
I set my purse on the kitchen island and glanced toward the vase of white roses Theo had arranged the night before. They were already beginning to open, beautiful and carefully chosen, proof that Theo knew exactly what I liked. That had never been our problem.
I walked over and brushed one of the petals. “I wish flowers were enough.”
The words slipped out before I understood I’d spoken them. A lump settled in my throat.
I wandered upstairs instead of unpacking my things. Our bedroom looked exactly as we’d left it that morning, the bed neatly made, Theo’s watch on the dresser beside his cufflinks, his side of the closet filled with charcoal and navy suits.
My gaze landed on our wedding photograph. Eight years ago, and even in a still picture Theo couldn’t stop looking at me. The joy, the certainty, the conviction that I was the person he wanted beside him forever.
I picked up the frame. “You still love me.”
I wasn’t questioning it. I knew he did, which was what made everything so confusing. How could someone love you that completely and still make you feel like everyone else mattered more?
I returned the photograph to the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. Gwen’s question moved through my thoughts again.
When was the last time Theo chose you first?
I’d searched for an answer until my head hurt. There had to be one. Instead, all I found were moments that ended the same way, with an apology, or a plan for tomorrow, or a promise that he’d make it up to me. Always tomorrow.
I reached for my phone. Three unread messages waited from Theo.
I really am sorry about last night.
I’m thinking about you.
I love you.
A small smile touched my lips. He always knew the right words.
I typed a reply.
I love you too. Have a good afternoon.
I stared at the screen for another second before setting the phone aside. That wasn’t enough anymore. His love had never been in doubt. What I doubted was whether our marriage could survive another year of good intentions.
I stood and walked toward the bedroom window.
Cars rolled slowly along our street, a couple walked hand in hand with a golden retriever, and across the road a little girl laughed as her father chased her across the front yard with a garden hose.
Ordinary life, ordinary moments, the ones Theo and I rarely seemed to have anymore.
Somewhere along the way we’d started living around interruptions instead of each other.
I folded my arms across my chest. “No.”
The word came out stronger than I felt. I wasn’t ready to leave, or to pack boxes, or to give up eight years of marriage over one anniversary. Theo deserved more than that, and so did I. He deserved the chance to see what this had become before I made a decision neither of us could undo.
One honest chance, rather than another apology or bouquet of flowers or expensive dinner. A chance to put me first me when it actually mattered.
If he did, then maybe there was still something left to save.
If he didn’t, I closed my eyes, and the answer was painfully clear. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life hoping tomorrow would finally become today.
I opened my eyes and looked at our wedding photograph one last time.
“One more chance, Theo.” I spoke the words softly into the empty room. “Just one.”
Then I walked downstairs, determined to say nothing to him about it. If he only chose me after I begged, he wouldn’t really be choosing me at all.
The next morning I met Gwen Hackman at the little café we’d been coming to for years. She was already sitting outside with two iced teas waiting on the table.
“You’re late,” she said.
“By two minutes.”
She looked at her watch. “Three.”
I laughed as I slid into the chair across from her. “You’ve always been dramatic.”
“I learned from the best,” she said.
For a while we talked about everything except my marriage.
A new client at her marketing firm, the bakery that had opened downtown, a television show we’d both been watching and somehow never managed to finish.
It felt good and normal, almost enough to lift the heaviness I’d been carrying since Bellamy’s.
Our sandwiches arrived, and for several minutes neither of us said much. Gwen had always known when to let silence do the work. She set half her sandwich down before looking at me.
“So,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“How was your anniversary?”
There it was. I should have expected it.
“It didn’t exactly go as planned,” I said.
Her expression softened. “What happened?”
I stirred my tea, which didn’t need stirring. “Margaret called.”
Understanding flickered across her face. “And Theo left.”
I nodded. “It was David this time.”
“What happened to him?”
“He backed into another car.”
She waited.
“Nobody was hurt,” I said.
“And Theo still left.”
I nodded again. “He said we’d celebrate the next day.”
Gwen leaned back in her chair. “Did you?”
“Not yet.”
“But you will?”
“I think so.”
She studied me for a long moment. “You don’t sound convinced.”
I looked down at the table. “I know he didn’t want to leave.”
“I believe that.”
“He looked miserable.”
“I believe that too.”
I sighed. “He always means well.”
“I know.”
“He loves me.”
“I know.”
Every one of those answers was true, and none of them was enough. The breeze lifted a strand of my hair across my face, and I tucked it behind my ear.
“I keep telling myself it wasn’t his fault,” I said.
Gwen rested her forearms on the table. “Josephine.”
“What?”
“I’m going to ask you something.”
I nodded cautiously.
“I need you to answer honestly,” she said.
“I’ll try.”
She waited a moment, watching a young couple walk hand in hand past the café before turning back to me.
“When was the last time Theo chose you first?”
I blinked. “What?”
“The last time.”
I frowned. “He chooses me.”
“When?”
“I...”
The answer should have come easily.
My birthday. I thought about it. He’d left dinner halfway through because an investor from California had landed early. Our vacation. Sofia’s custody hearing. Christmas. Margaret’s furnace. Our anniversary before this one. David’s flooded apartment.
Each memory surfaced with painful clarity before slipping away again, every single one ending with someone else needing Theo.
I swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
The words barely made it out. Gwen said nothing, and she didn’t need to. The silence between us carried enough weight on its own.
I stared at my untouched sandwich. “I’ve been making excuses for so long.”
“Why?”
“Because I know him.”
“And?”
“He isn’t selfish.”
“No.”
“He genuinely believes he’s doing the right thing.”
“I agree.”
I looked at her. “So why does it hurt so much?”
“Because intentions don’t erase consequences,” she said.
That landed somewhere deep inside me. Gwen reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
“Josephine, I’m not saying Theo doesn’t love you,” she said.
“I know.”
“I’m asking whether you’ve become the one person he’s certain will always understand.”
Tears stung the backs of my eyes. “He tells me I’m the strongest person he knows.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
I gave a humorless laugh. “Like I’m expected to survive on whatever’s left after everyone else has been taken care of.”
Her grip tightened slightly. “That’s exactly what worries me.”
I looked away before the tears could fall. The sidewalk bustled with people enjoying the afternoon, some laughing, some hurrying back to work, life carrying on around us while my own had stopped.
“I don’t want to leave him,” I admitted quietly.
“I know.”
“I still love him.”
“I know.”
“I just...” My voice cracked. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep waiting for tomorrow.”
Gwen’s expression softened. “You shouldn’t have to.”
For the first time since I’d sat down, I had nothing to say. Admitting Theo had disappointed me was easy compared to admitting I could no longer remember the last time he’d simply chosen me.
I drove home with Gwen’s words following me the entire way.
Intentions don’t erase consequences.
I’d spent years measuring Theo by what he meant to do rather than what happened.
He always meant to come home early, always meant to take me away for the weekend, always meant to make up for the canceled dinner and the interrupted vacation and the forgotten evening.
Somehow I’d convinced myself his intentions deserved as much weight as his actions. Maybe they didn’t.
The garage door rumbled open, and I pulled inside before switching off the engine. For a long moment I stayed where I was, and the silence gave me too much room to think. Finally I picked up my purse and walked into the house.
Sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows, catching the vase of white roses on the island.
Theo had arranged them himself. I smiled sadly, because he really had tried, and that was the impossible part.
There was no villain in my marriage, no affair, no lies, no cruelty.
Only a husband who couldn’t stop putting everyone else’s emergencies ahead of the life we’d promised to build together.
I wandered upstairs and paused outside Theo’s home office.
The door stood open, and everything inside was exactly as he’d left it.
The polished walnut desk, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, awards from business magazines lined up in glass cases, a framed cover declaring Theo MacArthur one of the country’s youngest self-made billionaire CEOs.
I’d been proud of him the day it came out, and I still was. His success had never bothered me. The late nights hadn’t bothered me at first either, because building a company took sacrifice and I understood that. What I hadn’t understood was why the sacrifices never ended.
I sat in his desk chair and opened the drawer where he kept a leather planner. He still preferred writing appointments by hand, and his neat handwriting filled every page. Board meetings, investor lunches, charity galas, strategy sessions, conference calls.
I flipped back through previous months. There, squeezed into the margins, were my own plans.
Anniversary – Bellamy’s – 7:30
Crossed out.
A week earlier.
Weekend Away – Lake Geneva
Canceled.
Three months before that.
Dinner with Jo
Rescheduled, then rescheduled again, then quietly gone from the page altogether.
I closed the planner. He hadn’t forgotten me. He’d penciled me into his life while everyone else was written in ink.
The thought stole the air from my lungs. I stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“No.” I pressed a hand against my chest. “No, that’s not fair.”
Theo loved me, and he’d never intentionally treated me like an appointment. Love and priority were different things.
I walked back downstairs, made myself a cup of coffee, and carried it onto the back patio.
The yard was peaceful. The maple tree we’d planted our first spring together had grown tall enough to shade half the lawn.
Theo had dug the hole himself, insisting on it even though we could have hired landscapers.
“We’ll watch it grow with us,” he’d said.
We had. The tree had become stronger every year. Our marriage, I wasn’t so sure.
My phone buzzed.
Theo
I stared at his name for a moment before answering. “Hi.”
“Hey.” His voice lifted my spirits despite everything. “How was lunch with Gwen?”
“It was nice.”
“What did you two talk about?”
I smiled faintly. “A little bit of everything.”
“I hope she didn’t convince you to spend all my money.”
I laughed. “I think she’d enjoy trying.”
“I knew it,” he said.
There was a comfortable pause.
“I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow,” he said.
“So have I.”
“I already moved three meetings.”
“You did?”
“I told Michael he was in charge after noon.”
I leaned back in my chair. “That’s a big deal.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“It is for you.”
He sighed softly. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“About what?”
“About how often I expect you to understand.”
I closed my eyes. “I do understand.”
“I know.”
“No, Theo. I really do.”
“I wish you didn’t have to,” he said.
The words surprised me.
“I’ve gotten used to assuming you’ll be okay because you’re, well, you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re the strongest person I know.”
A few hours earlier, hearing that would have made me smile. Now it landed somewhere else. Strong, reliable, understanding, words that always translated into waiting.
“I don’t always want to be the strong one.” The confession slipped out before I could stop it.
Silence filled the line. Then, quietly, he said, “I know.”
That simple answer hurt more than an argument would have. Because if he knew, why had nothing changed?
“I’ll see you tomorrow at noon,” he said gently.
“I’ll be ready.”
After we ended the call, I stayed on the patio watching the breeze stir the leaves overhead. Tomorrow. Another promise, another opportunity.
I wasn’t looking for perfection anymore. I was looking for one simple answer. When someone else needed Theo at the exact moment I did, who would he choose?
For the first time in eight years, tomorrow was going to answer that question.