Page 89 of Summer After Summer

“That’s a good question.”

“You didn’t come here to be with him?”

“No!” I lower my voice. “I told you William sold the house. He needs help clearing it out. That’s why I’m here. I had no idea Fred was around.”

“So why is he here, then?”

“He bought it.”

“What?” Wes sits back. “Wow.”

“I wasn’t happy about it either.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. Come on, Wes.”

He crosses his arms, appraising me. “You won’t forgive me, but I forgave you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“At least I wasn’t in love with someone else during our marriage.”

This silences me. It’s always surprised me about Wes, how perceptive he is. More than once, he’s figured out something fundamental about me without me telling him. I’ve never had the same insight into him, though.

“That’s not true.”

“Come on, Olivia—don’t do that.”

I rub my hands together, feeling the indent in my finger where my ring used to reside. Did I wear it long enough that this is permanent? Like a scar?

“You’re saying I should forgive you because you forgave me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if it’s that binary.”

“I get that—okay, I do. But I’m not the only guilty party here, is what I’m saying. You and me, we’re the same.”

I want to snap back at this, to point out the differences. And there are differences. But he’s also right. He cheated on us, and I did too. The differences—the how and why and who—don’t matter.

“Okay,” I say.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re right. We both fucked up.”

His face clears. “You’ll forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s hard to trust you right now.”

“I understand. But I’m not giving up.”

I look away from him, wishing someone would interrupt us. And then, Charlotte and Ann approach the table cautiously, like I’d called them.

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