Page 16 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
I reach over and brush a bit of fluff from his hair. “It’ll be alright, you know.”
He shrugs. “I know. Just... weird.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Weird’s about right.”
There’s a knock on the doorframe.
Sim-Sim has got that careful look on, the one he wears in meetings when he’s trying not to spook a client.
“Miranda,” he says, voice low. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I nod. I am done talking really, but we need to find a way to be civil to each other, even if it is just for SJ. So I follow Sim-Sim to the kitchen.
He doesn’t rush. Just stands near the table, hands in his pockets like they might stop him saying something stupid. For a second, it’s so quiet I can hear SJ humming faintly from the bedroom.
“I just...” He takes a breath. “Are you really sure?”
I don’t answer immediately.
He looks tired. Not the performative kind, not a subtle “feel sorry for me” tactic. Just... worn. Like the last few weeks have chipped at him in ways he didn’t see coming.
“As sure as I was when I signed the divorce papers,” I say eventually.
He nods, once. Looks down.
“I swear to you, it was a one-off. That girl—it wasn’t anything. It wasn’t evensomeone, not really. Just a mistake.”
I stay still.
“I never cheated before,” he goes on. “Not once. I know I messed up, but... it’s not who I am. I was stupid. And I was tired. And you were gone. And I know none of that makes it better, but I still… I love you.”
The words land heavily. Not sharp. Not dramatic. Just plain. Like he really believes they still mean something.
I glance away, just for a second.
The weight of it hits all at once… the years, the history, the life we built. The dinners, the birthdays, the endless shared decisions that shaped everything.
I don’t reply because I don’t know what to say.
He takes a step closer. Careful. Like I’m a wounded animal and he’s hoping not to get bitten.
“You don’t have to go,” he says. “Not yet. You could stay. Just for a bit. In the guest room, like before. And we could... feel our way back. Slowly. No pressure. Just space. Time.”
I close my eyes.
There’s a version of me that wants to say yes. The part that still remembers the good days. The part that wants to keep SJ’s world whole. The part that’s tired of being strong all the bloody time.
But I also remember standing in that bedroom and the sound he made when he called herbaby girl.
When I open my eyes, he’s watching me like he’s holding his breath.
“I can’t,” I say softly. “I can’t try to find my way back to something I haven’t forgiven.”
He flinches, barely. But I see it.
“I don’t know… I might eventually forgive you,” I add. “But I haven’t yet. And I won’t pretend I have just to make it easier.”
He nods. Slowly.
