I fell asleep thinking about what those gaps might contain. The next morning, I arrived at Java House 15 minutes early, ordered black coffee I didn't drink, and took a table by the window where I could watch Marcus arrive. Control of space, control of timing, control of the performance. Small things that added up to power. He walked in at exactly 9, dressed in the expensive casual way of men who work in tech.
Designer jeans, tasteful sweater, watch that cost more than most people's monthly rent. He looked tired. Good. He should be tired. He'd spent the last 6 months juggling two lives, and now one of them had collapsed.
James. He extended his hand as he approached. I looked at it, left it hanging there in the air between us, watched him slowly retract it. Sit down, Marcus. He sat, ordered coffee from a passing server, arranged his face into an expression of somber concern.
I'm glad you agreed to meet. Let's skip the pretense. You didn't call to apologize or explain. You called because you're worried about something. So, tell me what it is and we can both get on with our mornings.
He blinked, the mass slipping for just a moment. I don't I'm not worried. I just thought we should clear the air. You already said that on the phone. It wasn't convincing then either.
I leaned back, crossed my arms. Rachel signed divorce papers 3 days ago. She's moving in with you next week. You won, Marcus. You got what you wanted.
So, why do you look like someone who lost? His coffee arrived. He added cream, stirred it, used the ritual to avoid answering. Finally, did Rachel tell you why it started between us? She said you'd been flirting for months that it escalated at the summer party.
That's true, but it's not. He took a breath. James, your marriage was already over when I came into the picture. I felt a flash of heat behind my eyes, the ember of anger reigniting. Our marriage was fine, was it?
Because Rachel told me she'd been unhappy for years, that you were distant, disconnected, that you'd stopped really seeing her. She said she felt invisible in her own life and you believed her. I leaned forward. Or did you just like having permission to pursue a married woman? I believed her because it's true.
He met my eyes with something that looked like genuine conviction. I'm not the villain here, James. I fell in love with someone who was already leaving you emotionally. I just gave her somewhere to go. The audacity of it took my breath away.
You're rewriting history to make yourself feel better. Rachel and I had problems. Every long-term marriage does, but we were working on them. Or at least I thought we were until I found out she was working on you instead. She said you'd frame it that way.