I Wanted You Again

Roman invited me to dinner the following Thursday.

"With Sophie?" I asked.

"I'd like to take you out. Jenna said she was available if you wanted to ask her. I haven't booked anything."

I smiled at my phone.

"You're being very careful."

"It's exhausting. Will you put me out of my misery?"

"Dinner, Roman. Not a rescue."

"Dinner," he agreed.

I chose a small restaurant near the lake. He arrived without an entourage and looked almost offended by the tiny table.

"You can fit," I told him.

"My knees disagree."

"They can file a complaint."

He sat, and I laughed at the expression on his face.

During the meal, he reached for my hand. I gave it to him. Neither of us discussed reconciliation for almost an hour.

He asked what I'd missed doing since Sophie was born. I told him I wanted to read a book without waking up halfway through the same page. He said he'd fallen asleep over a contract and signed the blotting paper beneath it.

"Was it binding?"

"Nico framed it."

When the server brought dessert, Roman looked at the cake and went quiet.

I recognized the change.

"You can eat it," I said.

"I wasn't sure."

"It's chocolate cake. It doesn't have to answer for you."

His laugh was brief and relieved.

Outside, the lake wind lifted my hair across my mouth. He brushed it away, and I turned my cheek against his fingers.

We kissed beside my car.

This time, I didn't stop after one breath. He leaned me gently against the door, one hand at my waist, the other warm beneath my jaw. Familiar desire moved through me so quickly it frightened me.

I pulled back.

He stepped away immediately.

"Did I do something?"

"No. I just need a minute."

He waited while I straightened my coat. There was no injured accusation on his face, although the disappointment was obvious.

"I had a good evening," I said.

"So did I."

"I don't want you to think every time I kiss you means I've decided everything."

His mouth curved faintly. "I would prefer that arrangement."

"I know."

"But I can survive dinner."

I smiled and kissed him once more before leaving.

We went out again. Sometimes Sophie came. Sometimes Roman took her for an afternoon and I stayed home working, entirely alone for the first time in months.

The relationship didn't become smooth. One evening, he asked who had driven me home from a foundation meeting. I told him a colleague named Adam, and he made the mistake of asking whether Adam knew I was married.

"He has met you," I said. "You frightened him away from the shrimp platter."

"I didn't frighten him."

"He took a bread roll and left."

Roman looked away, then laughed reluctantly.

But I didn't let the joke end the conversation.

"I won't explain ordinary interactions as though they're suspicious."

His face sobered.

"I know. I was jealous."

"You can say that without making it my wrongdoing."

He nodded. The next time Adam's name came up, Roman asked about the project instead.

By August, I had stopped counting how often a good evening went wrong. There were still arguments. But fewer conversations ended with me wondering what had been decided without me.

When Laya sent a question about a final estate document, Roman told me before answering. He didn't ask me to praise him for transparency. He simply let me know.

I met with my attorney to review the arrangements we'd made. I kept my account. I kept my job. Roman contributed to Sophie's expenses without turning the payments into inquiries about my life.

In September, I gave notice on the townhouse.

I didn't tell Roman immediately. I wanted to hear the decision in my own voice before hearing it reflected back through his relief.

Maya helped me fold the first empty box.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

"I'm scared."

"That wasn't my question."

I smiled.

"Yes. I think I am."

"Then keep your keys. Not necessarily these keys. Your own keys to your own life."

"You've been saving that sentence."

"For months. Don't ruin it."

I hugged her hard.

Roman came the next evening. Sophie crawled toward him so fast he dropped to his knees before taking off his coat.

I watched them for a moment.

Then I said, "I'm moving back."

He lifted his head.

"What?"

"At the end of the month. I've given notice."

He stayed on the floor with Sophie holding his finger. His eyes filled before he spoke.

"Erin."

"Don't offer to restore everything exactly as it was."

His mouth closed around the words he had evidently been about to say.

I sat beside him.

"My work stays. My account stays. We make decisions that affect me together. And I want the guest room for now."

He nodded slowly.

"What else?"

"You don't treat this as the point where trying is over."

He looked down at Sophie, then back at me.

"I don't want the marriage we had before you left either."

I searched his face. He didn't add a promise big enough to hide inside.

"Good," I said.

Moving day was unremarkable in the best possible way. Roman carried boxes. Nico complained about a lamp. Elena brought lunch and told her husband he had no qualifications for criticizing interior design.

I put my clothes in the guest room. Roman put the empty suitcases away without suggesting a different closet.

For several weeks, we learned the new shape of an old home.

I worked at the kitchen table. Roman handled bedtime twice a week and more often when he was home. Sometimes I woke to find him already moving down the hall toward Sophie.

One evening after our daughter finally fell asleep, we shared a glass of wine in the kitchen.

"What scared you most that night?" I asked.

He knew which night.

"At first, that something had happened. Then I read your note."

"And after that?"

He looked at me.

"That you would discover you didn't need me."

I put my glass down.

"I did discover that."

He swallowed, but didn't look away.

I took his hand.

"I still wanted you. Those aren't the same thing."

He turned my hand over and kissed the center of my palm.

Later, I stood outside our bedroom. He was inside reading, his shirt open at the throat, his feet bare.

He looked up when I entered.

"I want to stay here tonight," I said.

He put the book down.

I walked to him before he could ask another question. Kissed him, touched his face, let his arms settle around me.

When he drew back, his forehead rested against mine.

"Why tonight?"

"Because I finally believe I won't wake up having to carry everything alone."

He held me for a long time.

When we kissed again, there was nothing cautious about what I wanted. He understood the difference. We closed the door softly, and I stayed because I wanted the man on the other side of it.