Chapter 3 - OUR ANNIVERSARY DINNER FOR ONE
I accepted the job at 8:12 the next morning.
No dramatic speech.
No revenge.
No consultation with Ethan.
I simply opened the offer letter on my laptop, reread the salary, the title, the relocation package, and the sentence that mattered most.
We believe you are ready to lead.
Then I clicked ACCEPT.
For years, I had made every career decision as if my marriage were the sun and everything else had to orbit around it.
That morning, I chose myself.
Ethan called fourteen times before noon.
I answered none of them.
At 12:43, a message appeared.
I told Vanessa I need space from her.
I stared at it.
Then another arrived.
I should have done that years ago.
I still didn’t respond.
Around four, someone knocked on the door of the furnished apartment.
I expected Ethan.
Instead, I found Vanessa.
She wore sunglasses despite the cloudy afternoon.
I almost closed the door.
“Please.”
“No.”
“Claire, I need to explain.”
“You really don’t.”
“I’ve loved him since college.”
I looked at her.
She had apparently decided confession was the same thing as honesty.
“And that’s supposed to help?”
“No. I just want you to understand this wasn’t some plan.”
I laughed once.
Her face stiffened.
“What?”
“You knew about my interview.”
“Ethan told me.”
“You knew I was supposed to stay in Seattle until Saturday.”
“Yes.”
“You were somehow on his flight Friday afternoon.”
Her lips parted.
I waited.
“That was coincidence.”
“Was it?”
She looked away.
That answered enough.
I leaned against the doorway.
“Why were you in Seattle, Vanessa?”
“A client meeting.”
“What client?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It becomes my business when you kiss my husband on the flight home.”
Her jaw tightened.
For a moment, the wounded best friend vanished.
Something colder replaced her.
“You’ve always hated me.”
“No. I hated what Ethan became around you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means every crisis in your life outranked every ordinary day in mine.”
She crossed her arms.
“He cared about me.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t punish him for caring.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Because he kissed you.”
She shook her head.
“For three seconds.”
There it was.
The sentence that ended any sympathy I might have felt.
I smiled.
Vanessa looked confused.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me why I don’t need to have this conversation.”
I started closing the door.
Her palm hit it.
“You think getting some shiny new job means you won.”
My hand stopped.
“Won what?”
“Ethan.”
I stared at her.
Vanessa realized too late what she had revealed.
“This was a competition to you.”
“No.”
“Yes, it was.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You don’t know what fifteen years means.”
“Apparently it means you spent fifteen years waiting for someone else’s husband.”
She stepped back as if I’d slapped her.
I closed the door.
That evening should have been our anniversary dinner.
Technically, our anniversary was the following night, but our reservation at Bellini’s had always been Friday because Ethan had claimed Saturday might interfere with a client event.
At six thirty, my phone rang.
Bellini’s.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“This is Paolo from Bellini’s. I’m confirming your reservation for two at eight.”
I nearly canceled.
Then I looked at the navy dress hanging beside the bed.
The dress I had packed because Ethan once told me blue made my eyes look brighter.
Something inside me rebelled.
“Keep the reservation.”
At eight, I walked into Bellini’s alone.
Paolo recognized me.
His smile faltered when he saw there was no Ethan.
“Table for one tonight,” I said.
“Of course.”
Our usual table faced the ocean.
I ordered the truffle pasta I loved and Ethan always called overpriced.
I ordered champagne.
Then I took the engraved watch receipt out of my purse and tore it into four pieces.
“Claire.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Ethan stood beside the table wearing the gray jacket I had bought him three Christmases ago.
He looked exhausted.
“How did you know I was here?”
“The restaurant called me too.”
I glanced at the empty chair.
“You have two minutes.”
He sat.
“I ended things with Vanessa.”
“There were things to end?”
His face tightened.
“I mean the friendship.”
“That’s your decision.”
“She lied about Seattle.”
That got my attention.
“What?”
“I asked her why she was there.”
I waited.
“She wasn’t meeting a client.”
My fingers went still around my champagne glass.
“She found out which hotel you were interviewing at because I told her the company. She scheduled a lunch with someone in Seattle so she’d have an excuse to be there.”
A cold sensation moved through me.
“Why?”
“She said she thought I needed someone with me because I was upset about your job.”
I laughed softly.
Ethan looked sick.
“She booked the return flight after I told her mine.”
“And the seats?”
“She said hers got changed at the gate.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“She paid to move beside me.”
I leaned back.
This was worse.
Not because Vanessa had planned proximity.
Because Ethan had handed her every piece of information she needed.
My interview.
My travel schedule.
His feelings.
Our arguments.
The architecture of our marriage.
Then acted surprised when she walked through the door he kept holding open.
“She also told me something else,” Ethan said.
I waited.
“She said you’d probably take the job because you care more about success than our marriage.”
My throat tightened.
“When?”
“Wednesday.”
Before the flight.
Before the kiss.
“And what did you say?”
His silence answered.
“Ethan.”
“I said sometimes I wondered the same thing.”
Pain struck so cleanly I almost admired it.
I put my napkin beside my plate.
He leaned forward.
“I was angry.”
“You were discussing my loyalty with a woman who wanted my husband.”
“I didn’t know she wanted me.”
“You didn’t want to know.”
He stopped.
That landed.
I continued quietly.
“Because if you admitted she wanted you, you would have had to set boundaries. And you liked being wanted by her.”
His eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
The answer stunned me.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it was finally honest.
“Yes,” he repeated. “I liked being important to her. I liked being the first person she called. I liked thinking I was the guy who could always fix things.”
“And what did that make me?”
“The person who was expected to understand.”
I looked toward the dark ocean.
He was finally seeing it.
Too late, maybe.
But seeing it.
“I’m sorry.”
I turned back.
“You don’t get to use sorry as a bridge across consequences.”
“I know.”
“I accepted the job.”
Pain crossed his face.
“When do you start?”
“Monday.”
“Are you moving to Seattle?”
“No. They’re opening the Los Angeles division. Seattle was the final interview.”
He blinked.
“So you’re staying here?”
“In Los Angeles.”
Hope surfaced again.
I hated how quickly I recognized it.
“That doesn’t mean I’m staying with you.”
His hope vanished.
“I know.”
I slid a business card across the table.
“My attorney.”
Ethan stared at it.
His face went completely still.
“Divorce?”
“Separation.”
He looked up.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still love me?”
That question nearly undid me.
“Yes.”
His eyes closed.
“But love isn’t the issue,” I said. “Trust is.”
He nodded slowly.
Then he stood.
“I won’t fight the separation.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“I’ll sign whatever your attorney sends.”
“Thank you.”
He started walking away.
Then stopped.
“Claire?”
I looked up.
“I was supposed to choose you without needing to lose you first.”
My eyes burned.
For once, he didn’t ask me to comfort him.
He simply left.
My dinner arrived ten seconds later.
I ate alone.
May you like
And strangely, for the first time in years, I did not feel lonely.
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