Gary finally tried to speak.
"Debbie, please."
I looked at him.
He reached toward me, but I stepped back.
He stopped.
"Rachel made everything difficult. She kept questioning me."
Rachel stared at him.
"Because you kept lying!"
He shook his head.
"That's not fair."
She gave him a look I recognized.
It was the expression of someone who had finally stopped believing the excuses.
"You told me your marriage had been over for years."
Gary turned toward me.
"Debbie, I made a mistake."
I didn't respond.
He continued.
"I know things weren't perfect between us, but I never wanted to hurt you."
I looked at him.
I thought about the evening he had left.
I remembered how he had stood in our bedroom and explained that he needed a new beginning.
He had said he wanted to find happiness.
He had said he couldn't keep living the same way.
I had asked whether there was someone else.
He hadn't answered immediately.
That silence had told me everything.
And now he was standing on the same porch, telling me he had never wanted to hurt me.
I wondered whether he believed his own words.
"Gary, what exactly are you sorry for?"
He looked confused.
"For everything."
"That's not an answer."
He sighed.
"I shouldn't have left."
"Why?"
He glanced at Rachel.
Then at Linda.
Then back at me.
"Because I should have worked harder on our marriage."
I waited.
He seemed to expect that to be enough.
It wasn't.
"Did you regret leaving me before Rachel threw you out?"
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
I watched him struggle.
He looked uncomfortable.
And I realized I had never asked him a question he couldn't escape so easily before.
Rachel folded her arms.
"Tell her the truth."
Gary turned toward her.
"Stay out of this."
"No. You brought me into this when you lied to both of us."
He rubbed his face.
"Can we stop?"
I looked at him.
"You wanted to come back. We're discussing why."
He took a breath.
"Debbie, I want us to start again."
"Start again?"
"Yes."
"After everything?"
He nodded.
I thought about that word.
Again.
He wanted to begin again as though the previous chapters could simply be removed.
He wanted the house.
The familiar kitchen.
The ordinary comforts of a life he had once decided he didn't want.
But he hadn't asked me what I wanted.
Not once.
He had arrived with his belongings and assumed there would be space for him.
He had asked about dinner before asking how I had been.
That detail stayed with me.
Not the suitcases.
Not the golf clubs.
Not even the lies about his name and our son.
The dinner question.
Because it showed how little he understood about what had happened.
"Gary, did you ever think about what the last four months were like for me?"
He looked down.
"I know you were upset."
Upset.
That was another small word for something much bigger.
I had been devastated.
I had questioned my worth.
I had wondered whether twenty-two years meant anything to him.
I had slowly rebuilt a life that no longer included him.
But I didn't list all those things.
I simply said, "You don't know."
He looked at me.
"I can make it right."
I shook my head.
"You haven't even asked whether I want you back."
He looked confused.
Then he glanced toward the house.
His eyes settled on the kitchen again.
The blue cabinets.
The room he had once considered his.
"You really changed everything."
"Not everything."
He looked at the cabinets.
"That color is still terrible."
I almost smiled.
"I know you think so."
He shook his head.
Then he asked for something I hadn't expected.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"Because I don't have anywhere else to go."
Rachel looked away.
Linda remained silent.
Gary continued.
"Her apartment is in her name. She doesn't want me there. Hotels cost a fortune."
There it was.
The explanation I had been waiting for without realizing it.
He wasn't asking to return because he had suddenly understood what our marriage meant.
He wasn't asking because he had spent four months missing the woman he had left.
He was asking because the other woman had refused to keep him.
And now he needed somewhere to sleep.
I looked at the suitcases.
Then at the golf clubs.
He had packed his belongings expecting to return to the life he remembered.
He had probably imagined that I would be waiting.
That I would feel sorry for him.
That the years we had shared would make it impossible for me to refuse.
I looked at him again.
"Gary, you're not asking me to forgive you."
He frowned.
"What?"
"You're asking me to give you somewhere to stay."
His face tightened.
"That's not true."
"Then why did you come here?"
He hesitated.
"I just told you. I want to come home."
I shook my head.
"No. You want a place where you don't have to worry about paying for a hotel."
His expression hardened.
"That's a terrible thing to say."
I looked at him.
"Is it?"
He raised his voice slightly.
"You can't just throw me out like I'm nobody!"
I didn't move.
He pointed toward the house.
"This is my home too!"
I looked at the front door.
The new lock.
The hallway.
The blue kitchen.
For a moment, I thought about all the years we had spent there.
Then I remembered something.
Something important.
When Gary had left four months earlier, we had discussed the house.
He had agreed to accept payment for his share of the property.
He had signed the transfer documents.
At the time, I had been focused on getting through the separation.
I hadn't thought much about what those papers would mean later.
But the process had continued.
And the paperwork had been finalized the previous month.
The house was now entirely mine.
Gary didn't seem to remember that.
Or perhaps he had never believed the decision would matter.
I looked at him.
"You remember the property transfer?"
His expression changed.
"What about it?"
"You signed the documents when you left."
He frowned.
"Yes. So?"
I held his gaze.
"The transfer was completed last month."
He stared at me.
I continued.
"The house belongs to me now."
For the first time since arriving, Gary had absolutely nothing to say.
He looked toward the front door.
Then toward the new lock.
Then back at me.
I could almost see him trying to understand what those words meant.
He had returned expecting the house to be waiting for him.
But the house was no longer something he could simply claim because he had once lived there.
He looked at the suitcases again.
His voice was quieter when he spoke.
"You can't be serious."
I didn't answer immediately.
I thought about the woman I had been four months earlier.
The woman who had saved him dinner.
The woman who had waited for him to come home.
The woman who had believed that if she loved him enough, he would eventually choose her.
I wasn't that woman anymore.
And I didn't need to explain why.
Source: kaylestore.net
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: The Man Who Once Walked Away With Confidence Finally Realized That the Woman He Left Had Nothing Left to Give Him
He Arrived With His Suitcases Expecting Dinner, Never Realizing the Woman Waiting Behind That Door Was No Longer His Wife in the Same Way
Part 4 of 8
