Page 108 of A Secret Escape

Bringing the past into the present, as her mother would say.

“That’s why you’ve been behaving the way you have? You feel guilty?”

“I’ve felt guilty from day one.” He muttered the words and glanced briefly at the table closest to them. “And the more accommodating and patient you were, the guiltier I felt. Given what I put you through, you were a saint.”

“I thought I was a martyr.”

He flushed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She was trying to absorb what he was telling her. “So you behaved badly in response to me behaving reasonably. And then when that changed and I stood my ground . . .” she tried to make sense of it “. . . you’re saying you preferred the annoyed version of me?”

“The annoyed version of you is easier to handle than the sad version. The sad version breaks me up.” He looked at her then, and for a moment she saw the man she’d married. The man she’d trusted, the man she’d laughed and cried and made a child with.

It was good to know that man still existed. That she hadn’t imagined it all.

She felt an ache of sadness for what they’d once had and lost, but also a sense of peace because she knew that whatever things were like now, they’d been good once. And maybe it was time to focus on that.

“It’s helpful to know that.” She picked up her coffee and looked at him over the edge of her cup. “I thought you’d just turned into a monumental idiot.”

His eyes gleamed. “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

But she had, hadn’t she? At least for a while. But she was going to forgive herself for that. She put her cup down. “I didn’t know you felt guilty.”

“Of course I did. We had all those happy years together. And we had Zoe. Our girl. And you probably won’t believe me, but Avery felt terrible too. For a while I didn’t think our relationship was going to work because the guilt kept coming between us.”

“But it did work.”

He looked at her for a long time, trying to decide whether to say something or not. “I’m happy, Milly. I know you think it was a midlife-crisis thing, and there’s the age difference, but I love Avery. And she loves me. And I’m sorry if that hurts.”

“It doesn’t. Not anymore. I’m pleased for you both, really.” Milly decided that the time had come to build a bridge so that they could both move forward. “Zoe likes Avery. And she has obviously made an effort—she has upended her life and let a teenager invade her immaculate single-person space, so she gets points for that.”

Richard reached out and touched her hand. “I don’t regret our marriage, although I’m sure you do.”

She stared down at his hand, covering hers. It was the first time they’d touched since he’d left her. And she thought about the early days. The fun they’d had. The way they’d been by each other’s sides through everything. Zoe. “I don’t regret anything. We had plenty of good years together, Richard. Maybe it’s time to celebrate those.”

He studied her face for a long moment, searching for something. “You’ve changed. Something has happened.”

Milly thought about Nicole, about all the conversations they’d had over the past few weeks. She thought about Brendan and the night they’d spent together.

Her mother had made a full recovery, and once Milly was confident that things were steady again, she’d rearranged her date with Brendan. This time she’d told Zoe about it, and that might have been a mistake because Zoe had sat with her nose pressed to the window to see whether Brendan was hot (orbuffto quote Zoe exactly) until Nicole had hauled her away to rehearse her part.

And when Brendan had invited her back to his cabin she’d said yes without hesitation, relieved that she’d had the foresight to arrange for Zoe to sleep over at her grandmother’s house. Connie, predictably, had been delighted to facilitate this new development in her daughter’s sex life, and Milly had tried not to think about the interrogation she would be facing in the coming days.

They’d drunk more champagne (Brendan had no food in his fridge, but he seemed to have plenty of beer and bubbly) and they’d sat and talked in soft voices for hours, and she wasn’t sure exactly when, but at some point they’d turned to each other and then they were kissing again, only this time it hadn’t stopped at kissing.

And the whole thing had been so deliciously exciting, so breathtakingly perfect that she’d never wanted the night to end.

And now, thinking back, she remembered how romantic it had been. She remembered the whisper of breeze through the open doors of his cabin cooling her heated skin, the sound of the lake lapping gently against the reeds beneath his deck, the feel of his fingers and the skilled brush of his mouth.

And as she’d lain there afterward, her legs tangled with his, she’d felt as if everything had changed. But it hadn’t, of course, not really. The only thing that had changed was her.

“I think I’ve just moved on.” She answered Richard’s question finally. “And it was about time. We need to find a way to function well in our new relationship.” The door to the café opened again, and Milly glanced up. “Which is why I asked Avery to join us.”

Richard almost fell off his chair. “Avery?”

“Hi.” Avery arrived at the table, a wary look in her eyes, and Milly stood up.

“I’m glad you came.” The whole situation felt painfully awkward, but she kept her tone warm. “I wanted to thank you for your kindness to Zoe.”

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