Page 40 of His Loving Wife

“Yeah, I don’t think that was the best moment for any of us.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I feel really awful that you think I’d wave the book news over your head as though I were deliberately trying to hurt you. You don’t really think that, do you?”

I grind my teeth. “I don’t know if you do it on purpose or not. I’d like to think you don’t. But you’re smart, Aster. It shouldn’t be that hard for you to figure out your news might have bothered me.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a statement about you—”

“I know. But think about it. I’ve talked about writing for, how long? And in the past when I brought it up, you laughed it off. Like it’s finger painting or something. Then, all of a sudden, you’re talking about getting a book deal like it’s nothing. You’d think it might cross your mind that maybe my feelings would be hurt.”

“It did cross my mind. Yes.”

“And yet you just went on and on anyway. Of course, I’m happy for you. I want to be happy for you, but you make that really hard when it feels like you’re gloating.”

“I’m sorry, Kate.” She exhales slowly. “I didn’t stop to think how it would affect you. I don’t mean to come off so bitchy.”

I laugh. “Did you actually just refer to yourself as a bitch?”

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck,” she quips, then her voice turns sincere. “Sometimes I get carried away talking about whatever is going on in my life, especially if it involves my career, because I feel like that’s all I have. You have Andrew and the kids. Your life seems fuller than mine, with or without a book deal.”

“Come on, now. You have David.”

“David is great, but outside of him, the accomplishments in my career are all I have, and I want to be proud of them.”

“You should be. I’m proud of you, too. Especially now that you’re willing to admit you didn’t handle telling me in the best way. Besides, nonfiction is a totally different genre. The true crime stuff is all the rage right now. I bet your sales will go through the roof.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said concerning Mom, too.”

“And?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for me to give her a few more chances. If you can do it for me, it’s the least I can do for her.”

“I think that would be really good, Aster.” I check the time on my watch. “Give me a call when you and David get settled back home. Maybe we could plan a meet up with Mom before we’re all back in school.”

“I’d like that,” she says.

We get off the phone. Ahead, I watch as Willow and Noah take turns kicking at the water as it reaches the sand. Their relationship with one another, even when they are bickering, is much closer than the one I have with my sister.

Our parents’ divorce shaped us, and it’s meaningless to try and assign blame. Mom made our family a priority, and Dad focused on his career. I know he loved us, he just did so in his own way. And it’s easier for Aster to be disappointed in our mother than admit she doesn’t fully understand her choices. At the end of the day, Aster and I have followed in their respective paths.

It’s another reason why I’m determined to repair my relationship with Andrew; I know how devastating it can be when a family breaks apart.

Chapter 20

6 Months Ago

Kate continued going to the gym four days a week. It had only been a month, but she could tell a difference. Her breath was less shaky when she made the march across campus. She fell asleep faster and woke up more refreshed. On more than one occasion, she’d noticed a thin layer of muscle appearing on the back of her arms, the sides of her thighs.

She felt better about herself. Until a flashback to that night came, and her whole body would shudder.

Today, she was afraid memories of that night might take over, as she sat at a coffee shop, waiting to meet the person who had sent her that letter back in January. She watched the other patrons as they lazily wandered in and bought coffee. A college student—had to be, because his shirt was wrinkled, his pants were stained, but his computer seemed brand new. An older couple wearing matching beige cardigans and black slacks. She doubted they planned it that way; they’d probably been together so long they rubbed off on each other without realizing. A heavily pregnant woman in a floral dress. Her face bare, but her hair curled and pulled back with a barrette.

Kate thought back to when she was pregnant with the kids. In both instances, she cherished the little kicks, but she also kept close count of the days until delivery. She couldn’t wait for that stage to be over, to move onto the next. Sometimes she wondered if she should have treasured the moment a little more. The pregnant woman in front of her looked so much more at ease than she remembered feeling.

The woman made eye contact and started walking toward her. Reflexively, Kate looked down, blowing on her coffee. The woman stopped right in front of her table.

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