Page 50 of Dreaming of Dawson

“I don’t know what to think. That’s part of the problem. Stevie never gave me an explanation for what happened… except to say she’d fallen in love with another man.”

Macy winces, pulling her hand away, which is a shame. “That had to hurt,” she says.

“Yeah, it did… but what she didn’t tell me was why she’d fallen out of love with me, or why she’d started seeing someone else, or even looking for someone else. I’ve got no idea what I did wrong. That’s what made it so hard to accept. I didn’t see it coming.”

“Why would you?” she says. “You’re not psychic. And I imagine she did everything she could to hide her affair from you. Most people would in those circumstances. But what I don’t understand is why you think you must have done something wrong. Did it ever occur to you that maybe she just grew apart from you?”

Grew apart? I’m not sure how I feel about that. It still implies some kind of failure on my part… a failure to maintain her interest, to hold on to her love.

“That still suggests I wasn’t enough,” I say, giving words to my thoughts.

“Or that sometimes it’s just not meant to be.”

“And she couldn’t have worked that out sooner? We’d been together for more than half our lives.”

“And for most of that time, you were happy. Your marriage was a success.”

“Yeah… right up until the divorce.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You’re forgetting all the happy times you shared and just focusing on the sad ones. You’re destroying yourself to prove a point.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? Destroying myself?”

“It feels that way.”

“If I am, it’s not so I can prove a point, it’s so I can forget.”

“Her?” she says, tilting her head.

“No… the emptiness.”

She lets out a slight gasp and I wonder if I should have said that… if I should have revealed so much of myself. But then I look at her, real close, and see a glistening in her eyes as she struggles to swallow. Is she gonna cry? I hope not. I honestly don’t know what I’d do. She wouldn’t want me to hold her, but how could I do anything else? How could I watch her cry and do nothing?

“I’m sorry,” I say, hoping to distract her.

“What for?”

“You don’t need this.” Clearly.

“It’s okay,” she says. “If it helps to talk, I don’t mind listening.”

“You’re damn good at it,” I murmur and she blushes. I’m almost tempted to smile, just to see if she’ll smile back, but before I can, she rests her elbow on the bar and leans her head against her upturned hand. That’s such a cute look, I forget about smiling and just stare.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

I’m a little nervous about that, but I nod my head anyway. “Sure.”

“Would you take her back?”

Her question surprises me, but I know the answer, and I give it straight away. “No.”

“So, if she came through that door right now and told you that leaving you was the biggest mistake of her life…”

“I wouldn’t believe a damn word of it,” I say, interrupting her.

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