20. Delilah
DELILAH
The moving truck pulls away from the curb at ten on Friday morning, taking the last of my grandmother's furniture with it. I stand on the front lawn watching it disappear, keys to the Sheepshead Bay house heavy in my hand.
Kane waits by the car, giving me space. He's been doing that a lot since Saturday. Letting me set the pace. Not pushing.
I like it. Most of the time.
"Ready?" he calls.
"Almost." I turn back to the house. "Come with me? I want to do a final walk-through before I hand over the keys."
He crosses the lawn and follows me inside.
The rooms echo without furniture. Sunlight streams through bare windows onto hardwood floors that suddenly look smaller than I remember. The kitchen where I spent years making Sunday dinners feels cramped. The living room where we hosted Connor's poker nights looks sad.
I walk through each space slowly, cataloging memories I don't particularly want to keep. Connor burning tax documents in the sink. Vivian sprawled on the couch talking about her latest trip. Me at the stove, at the table, in the pantry, always working while everyone else relaxed.
In the bedroom—my former bedroom, the one Kane had entirely refurnished on New Year's Day—I stop in the doorway.
"You okay?" Kane asks.
"I thought I'd be happy." My throat tightens. "Leaving this place. Selling it. Moving on."
"You're not?"
"I don't know." I step into the room. The walls are painted the same white they've been for years.
The carpet shows indentations where the bed used to sit.
"I spent so many holidays in this house.
Cooking Thanksgiving dinner while Connor disappeared to 'see if Vivian needs anything.
' Decorating for Christmas while he claimed he had to run an errand.
Making Easter brunch for his bowling friends while he texted my sister about meeting up later. "
Kane stays in the doorway, watching me.
"I was so busy making sure everyone else was having a good time that I never realized half the party was happening where I wasn't invited." I wrap my arms around myself. "How pathetic is that?"
"It's not pathetic."
"It is. I was cooking dinner for a man who was sleeping with my sister and I had no idea." I turn to look at him. "You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"I was good at it. Making people comfortable. Making them happy. I threw a great party." My voice cracks. "I just never stopped to ask if anyone actually wanted me there or if they just wanted my labor."
Kane crosses to me then and pulls me against his chest. I let him. His arms come around me and I close my eyes, breathing him in.
"Do you wish you could have it back?" he asks after a moment.
There's a careful note in his tone. Almost guarded.
I pull back enough to look at him. "What?"
"Your old life. The version where he didn't cheat. Where you kept believing what you thought you had."
I study his face. "Why are you asking me that?"
"Because I need to know."
"You sound jealous."
"Maybe I am."
The admission rings true. Kane's not performing. He's really asking whether I'd trade him for a version of Connor who wasn't a liar.
"I miss believing someone wanted that life with me," I say. "But I don't miss the man who pretended he did."
His shoulders relax.
"I don't want Connor back, Kane. I want the ten years I wasted on him back." I touch his jaw. "That's not the same."
"Isn't it?"
"No. Because one of those things is about him and one of them is about me." I drop my hand. "And to be honest, I'm more angry at myself than I am at him most days."
"Why?"
"Because I let it happen. I saw the signs and ignored them. I made excuses. I convinced myself I was imagining things because believing him was easier than dealing with the truth."
"That's not your fault."
"Maybe not. But I still did it." I turn back to the room. "And I hate that I did."
Kane falls silent. Then he says, "You know you're allowed to be sad about it, right? Even if you don't want him back."
"I know. But it still sucks."
He doesn't press. Just stands there while I process the fact that I'm about to lock this door for the last time and never come back.
A car door slams outside.
We both turn toward the sound.
Through the window I see Connor climbing out of a dark blue sedan I don't recognize. He's dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, sunglasses perched on his head, looking like he's headed to a golf course.
"What's he doing here?" Kane asks.
"I have no idea." I head toward the front door. "Stay here."
"Not a chance."
I don't argue. Honestly, I'm relieved.
Connor's halfway up the walk when I step onto the porch. He stops when he sees me, then notices Kane standing behind me.
"Hey, Dee," Connor says, like we're old friends running into each other at the grocery store. "Didn't know you'd still be here."
"I'm doing a final walk-through before I hand over the keys." I cross my arms. "What do you want?"
"I left some stuff in the basement. Figured I'd grab it before the new owners move in."
"The movers cleared everything two days ago."
"Not everything." He shifts. "I had some boxes stored down there. Old college stuff. Poker trophies. That kind of thing."
I want to tell him no. To make him leave empty-handed just because I can.
Instead I step aside. "Make it fast."
"Thanks." He moves past me into the house, then pauses when he sees Kane still blocking the doorway. "You coming with?"
"Yeah," Kane says flatly.
Connor's mouth tightens but he doesn't argue. He heads toward the basement door with both of us trailing behind him.
The basement is as deserted as the rest of the house. Concrete floors, bare walls, a water heater humming in the corner.
No boxes.
"Movers must've taken them," I say from the stairs.
Connor stands in the middle of the space looking around like he's expecting his stuff to materialize. "Shit."
"You could call the moving company. Maybe they have them in storage."
"Yeah. Maybe." He doesn't move. Just stands there staring at nothing.
After a minute he turns to face me. "Listen, Dee. I wanted to talk to you about something."
Here we go.
"What?" I ask.
"The house sale. You're getting seven twenty-five for it, right?"
"That's what the contract says."
"And you're keeping all of it?"
I descend the last few steps so I'm on the basement floor with him. "It's my house, Connor. So yeah. I'm keeping all of it."
"Right. Of course. I just thought—" He stops. Tries again. "Vivian and I had a deposit down on a venue for the wedding. It's overdue and they're threatening to cancel if we don't pay the balance."
I blink. "You want me to give you money for your wedding to my sister."
"Not give. Loan." He shifts. "Just until I get back on my feet. You know things have been tight since the divorce."
"Things have been tight because you gambled away your trust fund and forged my signature on a four-million-dollar loan."
"That's not fair."
"It's completely fair."
"Dee—"
"No." I cut him off. "You don't get to ask me for money, Connor. You don't get to show up here and act like we're friends who owe each other favors."
"We were married for ten years."
"And you spent four of them sleeping with my sister." My voice stays level. Cold. "So no. I'm not loaning you money so you can marry her."
His face goes red. "I wouldn't need to ask if you hadn't taken everything in the divorce."
"I took what was mine. You're lucky I didn't take more."
"Come on, Dee. You know I didn't mean for things to go the way they did."
"Which things? The affair or the forgery?"
He glances at Kane, who's still standing on the stairs watching us with an icy glare.
"Could we talk alone?" Connor asks.
"No," I say.
"This is between us."
"There is no us. Not anymore." I cross my arms. "Say what you came to say or get out of my house."
"I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. But we had a life together, Dee. That has to count for something."
"It doesn't."
"We were happy once."
"No. You were happy. I was just the maid and the wallet who made that happen for you."
His face hardens. "You're really not going to help me?"
"Not even a little bit."
"Fine." He moves toward the stairs. "Forget I asked."
"I will."
He brushes past Kane and stomps up the steps. We hear him moving through the house, opening closets, slamming doors like he's making a point.
"You want me to throw him out?" Kane asks.
"No. Let him finish."
We wait in the basement while Connor tears through the first floor looking for things that aren't there. After a few minutes his footsteps move toward the front door.
It slams shut.
The car starts. Tires squeal as he pulls away from the curb.
I exhale slowly and lean against the concrete wall.
Kane descends the stairs and stops in front of me. "You okay?"
"I don't know." My eyes sting. "He really thought I'd give him money."
"He's an idiot."
"He spent ten years pretending to want a life with me so he could fund his next marriage with the house I bought." My voice cracks. "How did I not see that coming?"
"Because you're not supposed to assume the person you married is a con artist."
"Maybe I should have."
Kane steps closer. "You know what I keep thinking about?"
"What?"
"How many years he had with you." His voice is quiet. Rough. "How many mornings he woke up next to you and didn't realize what he had. How many nights you cooked him dinner and he left to fuck your sister."
I look up at him. "Kane—"
"I hate it," he says. "I hate that he got all that time when I'm grateful for another evening."
The admission hits me square in the chest.
"You're jealous of Connor?" I ask.
"I'm jealous of anyone who got you when I didn't."
His hand flexes at his side—the only tell he ever gives.
"That's absurd."
"Probably." He touches my face. "But it's true."
I don't know what to say to that. How to process the idea that Kane—who traded ninety-one properties to get me back—still feels uncertain of me.
"I've been sleeping in your bed for a week," I point out.
"I know."
"And you still think I might choose him?"