Chapter 6
Clara
The plate dropped out of my hand.
It hit the floor with a sharp crack that appeared to split the whole dining room.
There was silence.
Not usual quiet.
The kind that made everyone in the room forget to breathe.
I halted in the entryway, one hand holding the edge of the serving tray, the other trembling at my side.
Alexander stared at me.
His dad gave me this look.
His mother lowered her fork slowly.
And Vivian Hart?
She didn't look even a little astonished.
That hurt almost as much as the things I'd just heard.
She was the practical choice.
I gulped.
My throat was dry and sore.
I was pregnant, and there was no way I was leaving my son.
I gripped the tray with my fingertips.
That’s all.
"Six years.
Being married for six years.
Six years I've spent persuading myself Alexander’s quiet wasn’t indifference.
6 years of missed dinners, forgotten anniversaries, hollow pledges and freezing nights, all excuses.
Six years of telling myself some guys just aren't adept at showing love.
I had spoken for him to everybody.
To my pals.
To his family.
To myself, even.
And obviously, I'd been defending a falsehood.
“Clara.
At last Alexander's voice broke the silence.
I looked at him.
He sat at the head of the table, in the same dark suit he’d worn all afternoon. His expression had totally changed.
The sure billionaire was gone.
For the first time Alexander Vale looked afraid.
“Hold on, Clara.”
I chuckled.
It came out small and smashed.
“Wait?
He pushed his chair backward.
I raised my hand.
“Don't.
He came to a halt.
Good.
Because if he got any closer, I didn't know if I'd slap him or leap into his arms.
And I hated that I didn't know which one would happen.
I looked toward his father.
“Did he say that?”
His father closed his eyes.
That was enough.
My chest tightened.
I turned back to Alexander.
“Did you marry me because I was pregnant?”
His jaw clinched.
“Clara”
“Yes or no?”
He said nothing.
I stared at him.
“Six years, Alexander.”
Still nothing.
My voice became quieter.
“Six years, and that’s what I was?”
His eyes blazed with something I could not name.
My apologies.
Fears.
Pain.
That was nothing.
It didn’t matter.
Because when I had wanted an answer, he had given me quiet.
As he usually did.
I remembered the day he had proposed.
No flowers had been.
Not a great speech.
No avowal of affection.
It was just Alexander and me in my tiny flat, staring at my pregnancy test like it had changed the course of his whole life.
Then he'd say, I'll do the proper thing.
I had been young enough to confuse duty for love.
I was stupid enough to think the love would come afterward.
Perhaps it did.
Maybe it hadn't been.
But tonight he will finally tell the truth.
Or at least enough to kill me.
I looked down at the shattered plate.
That’s funny.
Six years of marriage, and apparently that was all it needed to break everything.
Plates.
Four. Words.
And a husband who could not say, That's not what I meant.
Again I stared at Alexander.
Prove me wrong.
His mouth fell open.
There was nothing.
My heart shattered.
“Tell me I’m missing some context.”
He took a step toward me.
Clara, please.
"Please, what?”
My voice went up.
“Don’t believe what you’ve heard, please?”
He halted.
“Then explain.”
Silence.
“Alexander, explain it!”
There was an awkward silence around the table.
His mother almost appeared as if she were crying.
His father glanced at the table.
Vivian folded her serviette gently.
I loathed her for being around.
But I hated myself more because I cared.
Because suddenly all recollection had altered.
Every time late, Alexander came home.
He'd missed every school event of Noah's.
Every time I had dressed for dinner and dined alone.
Every night I'd stretch across our bed and find frigid covers.
I believed he was occupied.
I believed he was weary.
I felt he loved me in a different way.
Now I wondered if he had ever loved me at all.
“Clara,” he murmured quietly.
I shook my head.
“Naw.
I picked up my wedding ring.
Alexander’s face altered.
“Don’t.”
The word was hardly heard.
I fidgeted with the ring on my finger.
6 years old.
I had worn it through the pregnancy.
In sleepless evenings.
Arguments.
Through long-forgotten birthdays.
Through all the lonely holidays.
I’d kept it because it was a promise.
Tonight I finally got it.
It was a promise that only one of us believed in.
I ripped it loose.
Alexander's gaze tracked the action.
“Don’t do this, Clara.”
I put the ring down on the table.
The small metallic sound was somehow louder than the sound of the plate striking the floor.
His chair scraped away.
“Clara.
I stared at him.
Looked at him, really.
I had searched his face for affection for years.
Tonight I sought for the truth.
I was scared.”
Too late.
I loved you," I said in a whisper.
His face cracked.
"I still"
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t get to finish that sentence.
He stopped moving totally.
“You don’t get to tell me that you love me now that I’m finally leaving.”
“I love you.
This time the words poured out.
Desperately, almost.
I gave him the look.
“Then why didn’t you say that when I was begging you?
He had no reply.
Once more.
No reply, always.
I took my purse.
My hands were trembling, but not my voice.
“I spent six years trying to be the woman you could love.
Alexander rose up.
“You didn't have to.
I stared at him.
“Well, why did you make me feel like I was?”
His face fell.
For a moment I was almost going soft.
Almost.
Then I remembered the sentence.
That's all.
I stood in front of the door.
Clara, where are you going?”
I paused.
I whispered without glancing around,
“Some place where I don’t have to wonder if I am loved.”
Then I gazed back at him once more.
“My husband.
My child's father.
The man I'd spent six years picking.
And the man who had evidently selected me for all the wrong reasons.
I could hear my voice breaking as I spoke the words I knew would change everything.
“Then you should have married duty. Not me.”