Chapter 4
Josephine
The reservation confirmation sat in my inbox for almost a week before I finally clicked Book. I smiled the moment the screen flashed.
Your reservation is confirmed.
A lakefront suite, two nights, Friday through Sunday.
Nothing extravagant by Theo’s standards, which wasn’t the point.
The little resort sat less than three hours outside Chicago, tucked among pine trees and walking trails where cell service was unreliable enough to force people to look up from their phones.
We’d spent one weekend there during our second year of marriage, long before MacArthur Capital had become the empire it was now.
Back then Theo had laughed more. He’d slept in.
He’d challenged me to canoe races he inevitably lost because he couldn’t paddle in a straight line.
Whenever I thought about the happiest years of our marriage, I found myself remembering that place, maybe because it had been one of the last times we belonged entirely to each other.
I printed the reservation and tucked it into an envelope before hiding it inside my desk drawer. This wasn’t an apology trip, and it wasn’t replacing our anniversary. It was my one last chance.
Theo had promised me lunch tomorrow. If that went well, I’d surprise him with the weekend away. If it didn’t, I refused to finish the thought.
The next afternoon I stood in front of the mirror fastening a pair of silver earrings just as the doorbell rang. Right on time, and I couldn’t help smiling.
When I opened the front door, Theo stood on the porch holding a bouquet of wildflowers rather than roses. My favorite.
“I figured I should switch things up,” he said.
I laughed softly. “I like them.”
“I hoped you would.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek before handing me the bouquet. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you.”
He glanced down at his navy blazer. “I’ve been upgraded from handsome?”
“You’ve been promoted.”
“I’ll take it,” he said.
His grin was easy and relaxed. For the first time in days he didn’t look like someone carrying an entire company on his shoulders. He looked like my husband.
The drive into the city felt almost effortless. We talked about everything except the anniversary, a movie we’d been meaning to watch, David’s insurance claim, a new coffee shop opening downtown. Nothing heavy, only the kind of conversation we’d once had every day.
Lunch lasted nearly two hours, and Theo never looked at his phone.
He laughed when I teased him about ordering the exact same pasta I’d chosen.
He reached across the table to steal fries from my plate because he insisted mine somehow tasted better.
When we walked back to the car afterward, he slipped his hand into mine without thinking, and the familiar warmth of his fingers around mine was something I’d missed more than I understood.
As we reached the parking garage, I stopped walking.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I have something for you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Our anniversary present?”
“Sort of.”
I pulled the cream envelope from my purse and handed it to him. He looked at me curiously before opening it, his eyes moving across the reservation confirmation, then back to me.
“A weekend away?”
I nodded. “I booked it this morning.”
His smile grew. “The lake resort.”
“You remembered.”
“Of course I remembered.” He looked down at the reservation again. “This is the place where you beat me at canoeing.”
“You still insist the canoe was crooked.”
“It was.”
“It definitely wasn’t.”
“It absolutely was.”
I laughed, and he laughed with me, the sound carrying through the concrete garage.
“I thought...” I hesitated. “Maybe we could leave Friday after work.”
He looked at the reservation again before meeting my eyes. “A whole weekend?”
“No meetings.”
“No investors.”
“No family.”
“Just us?”
“Just us.”
He waited a moment before stepping closer and wrapping both arms around me. “I’d love that.”
Relief washed over me. “Really?”
“Really.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll clear my schedule this afternoon.”
“You don’t have to do it right now.”
“I want to.” He smiled down at the reservation in his hand. “I can’t believe you planned this.”
“I wanted us to have something to look forward to.”
“We do.” His voice carried real excitement. “We’re going.”
Hope bloomed quietly inside my chest. Maybe this time would be different, maybe this weekend would become the memory we needed, maybe after everything we were finally finding our way back to each other.
Theo spent the rest of the drive talking about the resort.
“I still can’t believe you found the same place,” he said.
“It wasn’t hard.”
“I thought it had changed owners.”
“It did.”
“So how’d you know it was still there?”
“I looked it up a few months ago.”
“A few months?”
I nodded. “I was hoping we’d find a weekend.”
His smile faded just enough for me to catch it. “You’ve been thinking about this that long?”
“I guess I have.”
He reached across the center console and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
I smiled. “You’re here now.”
“I am.”
By the time we pulled into our driveway, I was lighter than I’d been in weeks. Theo shut off the engine and looked over at me.
“Why don’t we order takeout tonight?” he asked.
“We just had lunch.”
“I know, but I don’t want to ruin the day by disappearing into my office.”
I laughed. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
We walked into the house together, and for once nothing felt rushed. Theo dropped his keys into the bowl by the front door and loosened his tie.
“I’m going upstairs to change,” he said.
“I’ll start dinner.”
“No cooking.” He pointed a finger at me. “We’re ordering.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I like the sound of that.”
I rolled my eyes. “You absolutely do.”
He disappeared upstairs while I wandered into the kitchen, smiling to myself. Maybe Gwen had been wrong, or maybe she’d simply asked the question I needed to hear. Either way, Theo was trying, and he was doing it with his time rather than flowers or expensive gifts. That was all I’d ever wanted.
I had just opened the takeout menu when his phone began ringing upstairs. Once, then again, then a third time.
I froze.
The ringing stopped. A few seconds later, footsteps crossed the bedroom floor. Then quiet.
I let out a slow breath. He wasn’t answering.
Another minute passed, and I smiled to myself. He’d done it.
The phone started ringing again, longer this time, insistent. I tried to ignore it, and the sound eventually stopped.
Then Theo’s voice drifted down the staircase.
“Mom?”
My heart sank. I closed my eyes.
His voice grew quieter as he walked into the bedroom, though I could still hear enough.
“What happened?”
A pause.
“Sofia, slow down.”
Another pause.
“What do you mean her fever won’t come down?”
I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. Lilian. Please let her be okay.
Theo reappeared at the top of the stairs, phone pressed to his ear, his expression completely changed. The relaxed smile from lunch was gone and his jaw had tightened.
“I’ll figure something out,” he said into the phone.
He disappeared again. A moment later another voice came through the speaker. Margaret.
“Theo, she needs you.”
“I’m talking to Sofia.”
“I know, but she’s terrified.”
“I understand.”
“No, sweetheart, you don’t. Lilian keeps asking for you.”
I swallowed hard.
Theo walked slowly back downstairs, still listening, and stopped when he saw me standing in the kitchen. For a second neither of us spoke. He held up one finger, asking for another moment, and I nodded. He turned slightly away.
“Sofia, what did the pediatrician say?”
He listened.
“Did you give her the medication?”
Another pause.
“Okay.” His shoulders slumped. “I’ll come over.”
The words landed between us like a stone.
Margaret’s relieved voice carried through the phone. “I knew you’d know what to do.”
Theo ended the call without another word. The kitchen was suddenly much smaller.
He looked at me, regret already written across his face. “Sofia’s really scared.”
I searched his eyes. “Is Lilian in danger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“The pediatrician believes it’s a virus, but her fever keeps climbing.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Sofia’s falling apart.”
“I understand.”
“I just...” He looked down at the weekend reservation still sticking out of his jacket pocket, then back at me. “I need to go.”
Neither of us moved. The kitchen was impossibly quiet, and even the refrigerator’s low hum was loud in it.
“You need to go,” I said.
“I do.” He said it carefully, almost cautiously, as though he already knew every word mattered. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“I know.”
“I promised we’d order dinner.”
“I know.”
“I promised we’d spend the evening together.”
“I know.”
His shoulders fell another inch. “I’m sorry.”
There it was again, the apology arriving before the disappointment had settled.
I looked at the envelope still peeking from his jacket pocket. “Our weekend.”
Theo followed my gaze. “We’ll postpone it.”
The words came as naturally as breathing.
“We’ll go next weekend,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
“If Sofia needs help tonight, I can leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
Still I said nothing.
“If that’s not enough, I’ll take Monday off too.”
He was already rearranging our lives, already moving us to another square on the calendar. Another tomorrow.
“Josephine?”
I forced a smile onto my face. “You should go.”
“I hate leaving you.”
“I know.”
“I really wanted tonight.”
“I know.”
His eyes searched mine. “I mean that.”
“I believe you.”
He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me. Normally I would have melted into the embrace. Instead I stood perfectly still.
“I’ll call you later,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
He kissed my forehead before picking up his keys. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He hesitated in the doorway. “I’m really sorry.”
Then he was gone. A moment later the garage door opened, the engine started, and the sound faded as he pulled away from the house.
Silence settled over everything. I stayed exactly where I was, staring at the front door long after it had closed. Part of me wanted to be angry. Mostly I was tired.
I walked over to the kitchen island and picked up the cream envelope. The reservation confirmation slid into my hand. Two nights, Friday through Sunday, Lake Geneva. I traced my finger over the dates before carrying it upstairs.
The suitcase I’d packed that afternoon still sat open on the bench at the foot of our bed. I’d folded Theo’s favorite sweaters inside, a pair of jeans, hiking boots, the navy baseball cap he always wore near the lake. My own clothes filled the other half.
For a moment I looked at it. Then I knelt beside the suitcase.
One sweater, folded, back into the closet. One pair of jeans, folded, back onto the shelf. His hiking boots, back into their box. Methodically, I unpacked everything we’d been planning to take together.
The room stayed painfully quiet, no television and no music, only the soft rustle of fabric and the sound of hangers sliding across the closet rod.
When I reached the reservation confirmation, I held it in both hands. I’d imagined us walking along the shoreline, sleeping late, eating breakfast without checking the time, remembering what it felt like to be husband and wife rather than two people constantly interrupted.
Slowly, I tore the paper in half, then into quarters, and dropped the pieces into the trash can beside the desk.
By the time the suitcase was empty, the tears I’d been holding back finally slipped free.
Lilian was a little girl who deserved to be cared for, and I would have driven her to the hospital myself if she’d needed me.
I cried because my husband had never paused.
He hadn’t asked if someone else could stay with Sofia, hadn’t considered whether Margaret could handle one evening on her own, hadn’t looked for another solution at all.
He’d simply chosen, the way he always did.
I closed the empty suitcase and slid it back beneath the bed, then climbed under the covers and stared at the ceiling through blurred eyes.
For the first time since I’d promised myself one more chance, a quiet thought settled into my heart. Maybe I’d already been given my answer.