Grace checks the boxes, and I move them out of her way when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. We’re working as a team again for the first time in what feels like forever. If only we’d started this a few years ago—working together to meet a goal—maybe we could’ve salvaged our marriage.

But I can’t live in a loveless marriage anymore. She cringed when I touched her. I was only helping her up the final step, but I felt her tense under my hand the second I made contact with her. She can’t even stand the thought of me in her presence anymore, and I can’t really blame her now. But this vicious cycle is what pushed us to this point in the first place.

She opens another box and freezes in place. Her face falls, and tears glisten in her eyes. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“What is it, Grace?”

She lifts an ornament from years ago. It’s a homemade picture frame, and the photo is of all three of us. Grace and I are Mrs. Claus and Santa Claus, and Kyle is an elf. We’d volunteered at the homeless shelter that year, spending our family time with less fortunate people. Kyle said it was the best Christmas we’d ever given him, because we were more grateful for what we already had instead of wishing we had more.

I never would’ve guessed a twelve-year-old boy’s words would prove to be wiser than anything I’d said in my thirty-eight years—all the way up until today.

“That was a great Christmas, wasn’t it?” I prompt her, trying to get her to respond.

“It was the best. You told me you wanted to try for a baby that night.”

Fuck. I’d forgotten that part, but of course she remembered it.

“It wasn’t meant to be, Grace.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you’ll have that with Tammy now.” She picks up the box and starts toward the step.

I put my hand on her arm to stop her. “Why do you say that?”

She throws a disgusted huff over her shoulder. “Blake, seriously? She’s young—only in her early twenties. Of course she’ll expect to have kids one day. You’ve forgotten all those times we joked about Kyle going off to college before we even turned forty, and how much time we’d have to travel and see the world. Now you’ll be spending that time changing diapers and warming bottles at two a.m. for your newborn. Your around-the-world trip will come when you’re sixty and she’s forty…if she hasn’t traded you in for a younger man by then.”

She shoves the box into my arms and leaves me standing alone in the attic—shocked and dazed. Tammy and I haven’t talked about having kids—we’ve barely talked about what our plans are a week out—but Grace is right. Tammy’s very young, and she’ll eventually want a baby. If she waits until she’s thirty, I’ll be retired when our child graduates high school and moves out.

Is that really the life I want? Is that the life I’ve worked toward all these years?

“Dad! Bring the decorations down so we can finish tonight!” Kyle jars me from my visions of experiencing empty-nest syndrome. I move down the attic steps robotically before I push them back up into the ceiling. The one person I’d normally depend on and talk these conundrums through with is the one person I can’t turn to for advice now.

Inside the den, I put the box down by the tree. The first ornament Kyle picks up is the same one that drew Grace’s eye. He looks at it without speaking for several seconds. The blinking lights on the tree illuminate his face, and I see sadness in his eyes.

“Mom, when I go off to college, can I take this with me?” Kyle looks up at Grace then back down at the picture. “This has always been my favorite picture of us.”

“Of course, baby. You can have it.” Grace is the only one who can get away with calling him “baby.” She has told him he’d always be her baby, regardless of how old he is. Kyle has never once disagreed. Grace hung the moon and stars, in his eyes.

They hang his childhood ornaments as I hand them over. Before long, every hole is filled, and Grace is finally satisfied with the perfect balance on the tree. She settles on the couch to finally rest, and Kyle stretches out on the love seat. I sit next to Grace, against the arm of the couch, and pull her legs into my lap.

She cuts her questioning eyes at me, but I ignore the daggers flying in my direction for touching her without permission. Instead, I slip her shoes and socks off one at a time before I massage her feet and calves.

“You’ve had a long day, and we gave you more work to do when you got home. I’ll make your feet feel better, then you can go shower while I fix dinner. You must be starving.”

Holding up my end of the deal is so much harder than I thought it would be. Not because of the acts I have to perform or even because taking care of Grace is a hardship. No, what hurts is when I touch her and I know she hates to feel my caress. What’s hard is remembering all the years I wished Grace would look at me the way Tammy does now. What cuts is knowing we’re both putting on an elaborate act that only delays our inevitable demise as a couple.

What’s impossible is knowing I couldn’t change anything even if I wanted to.

Even if tried.

Even if I gave my all.

Grace would never want me again.

---

“Over the past two weeks, Blake has played his part and kept his word. I’ve checked our cell phone bill but haven’t found any texts or calls. Today, I’ve decided not to look anymore. Whatever he decides to do will happen, regardless if I know right away or not. If I’m honest with myself, I wanted to catch him so I could end this charade between us. Because the nicer he is to me, the more thoughtful he acts, the more it hurts me.”

“You still love him.” Leigh sits back in her chair, crosses her arms, and narrows her eyes at me. “How can you still love him?”

“I still love the man I used to know. Kyle’s father. This Blake isn’t that man anymore. But I see glimpses of him sometimes, and it reminds me of what I’ve lost. All the years with my high school love that have been flushed down the toilet. That makes me mad and hurts at the same time.”

“You know…” Leigh draws out the suspense by drawing out those two syllables. “You wouldn’t have such a strong reaction to all this if you didn’t care about your marriage at all anymore.”

“He has a young girlfriend he wants a forever life with, Leigh. He’s been making plans to leave me to be with her for a while now. That’s not the kind of thing I can just forget. It’s hard enough playing pretend for Kyle’s sake.”

“But it’s not all for Kyle’s sake. Is it, Grace?”

I pick up my coffee and take a long sip. The longer I avoid eye contact and refuse to acknowledge her question, the more likely she is to drop it.

“I’m not suggesting you should suddenly develop amnesia. I’m simply saying there’s no shame in making your marriage work if that’s what you both want. My advice is for both of you to have a deep, heart-to-heart talk and commit to what you want to do. He fucked up, I’m not saying he didn’t. But this act has you all confused and feeling shit for him you don’t want to admit. I don’t want to see you hurt again the day after Kyle leaves.”

“You think Blake and I could move past this, Leigh?”

“My parents did—and their marriage is stronger because they made it a priority. They weren’t afraid to admit where they’d gone wrong, and they fixed it. You and Blake would both have to take a long, hard look in the mirror and move forward together. Do you think you can forgive him?”

Can I? That’s the million-dollar question.

“After I first found out about Tammy, I was so hurt and mad and humiliated and alone. It made me crazy to think about the two of them together. To think he was showering her with the attention he denied me. So, when he was on one of his business trips, quote unquote, I checked up on him. He was with her.

“So, I got dressed up and went out to a bar. I was looking to get picked up, and I didn’t care who knew it. This handsome, well-dressed man slid up to the bar beside me. He was drinking bourbon neat—told the bartender exactly which brand he wanted and how many fingers. He was sexy and successful and only in town for a couple of days on business.

“I tried to go through with it—I really did. The man kissed like it was an art. His hands heated my body temperature to boiling. The way he looked at me made me believe he’d eat me alive and relish every second of it.

“And that’s what stopped me cold.

“I realized that’s how my husband looked at another woman. The things that stranger made me feel were what my husband made another woman feel. The intimate moments she had with my husband should have been mine all along. Those thoughts chilled my blood, and I rushed out of his hotel room with a mumbled apology.”

Leigh stares at me, dumbfounded and speechless. “You never told me about that. Wow.”

“I know. It was a hard wake-up call for me and not something I’m proud of doing. Even knowing what Blake was doing, I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t make myself let another man have me. But I also had to face how that stranger made me feel—when he wooed me, when he looked at me, and when he touched me. I haven’t had that with Blake in so long…but he hasn’t had that from me either.”

“Wait—you’re not turning into one of those Stockholm syndrome wives who blames themselves for their husband’s affairs, are you? Because if you are, I’ll kick your ass right now.”

Damn, I love my best friend. “No, nothing like that. The cheating is all on him. But I have to accept my faults and how I may have pushed him away. It takes two to stay married, so what did I not do, or not do enough? How did I contribute to the death of our marriage? I can’t put all of the blame on him. We obviously had problems before he brought her into the mix.”

We finish our break and head back to the unit to do the next round of medications and vitals on our patients. Our conversation keeps replaying in my head, forcing me to take an honest inventory of my shortcomings, his shortcomings, and how our mutual failures played off the other. I am still crushed by his actions, but a small part of me understands his needs weren’t being met by me any more than mine were being met by him. He just found someone else who was willing to try a little harder in the areas he needed most, and he let her in.

I was more comfortable with the status quo and thought we’d always be together. Till death do us part. Isn’t that what we vowed?

Since he has made an honest attempt to be a better husband in Kyle’s eyes, it’s only fair that I step up to the plate and give my all too. For the next eight and a half months anyway. On my way home after my last twelve-hour shift ends, an unsettling truth hits me.

I don’t even know what Blake wants or needs to genuinely make him happy. Shouldn’t I know that about my husband?

When I get home, I find Blake and Kyle standing in the front yard, in the cold and darkness of our early winter and shorter days, admiring their work again. Kyle meets me at my car, opens my door, and impatiently waits for me to collect my things and get out.

“What are you up to?” I ask with a smile.

“I helped Dad cook dinner. Come try it. We grilled hamburgers and made French fries.”

“You grilled out in this weather?”

“Yeah,” Kyle laughs and glances over at his dad. “We also tried to make s’mores on the grill, but I say we just need to build a fire pit in the backyard and go all out.”

My son is a genius. Blake has mentioned wanting a fire pit many times over the years, but something else always took precedence over building our backyard oasis. No time like the present to rectify that—even if the landscapers think I’m crazy for scheduling the construction in the winter.

“By all means, lead me to the food. Sounds delicious. After we eat, do you two want to take a walk around the neighborhood and look at Christmas lights? Our neighbors may have more lights up than we do. You never know.”

“If they do, then we accept their challenge. What do you say, Kyle?”

“Oh, they’re going down. No one out-Christmas-lights us.”

A little prodding in the right area, with a little threat of competition, and they’re both ready to go to battle.

“Are you sure you’re not too tired tonight, Mom?”

“No, I’m fine, baby. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Kyle points out which patties he was specifically responsible for cooking, so I make sure to take one of his. He’s proud of his small achievement, and I’m proud of how he’s devouring the extra time he has spent with his dad. These small, simple acts give me hope for their relationship in the future.

Blake approaches me after dinner when we’re bundling up for our walk in the chilly night air. He helps slide on my coat and speaks, keeping his voice low so Kyle doesn’t overhear.

“Are you sure you’re up for this tonight? You’ve been going in a lot more lately, and you just finished a long shift. We can go tomorrow night if you’d rather wait.”

“No, I’m fine to go for a walk. It’ll be nice to get outside. I’ve been stuck inside too long.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. There’s something we need to discuss when we get back.”

Did he find the letter while they were cooking? Is that why he wants to talk? I know that’s an irrational fear talking since they had no reason to get the flour out for hamburgers and fries. Thoughts swirl and my mind races, considering the different reasons we’d need to “talk” now. My mind bounces from the routine household chores to the life-altering decision to end our façade. Then I put that aside because surely he wouldn’t join in on the Christmas lights competition if that were the case.

Since I already have more than enough bullshit cluttering my mind, I refocus and put a smile on my face.

“All right, Blake. Is everything okay?”

“Nothing’s wrong, but there is something I need to tell you. I don’t want it to affect our family stroll, so let’s wait until we get back.”

“Fair enough. Ready to go?”

He nods and meets my gaze. Our eyes lock, and I read sadness in his. He looks lost—trapped between what he wants to do and what he knows he should do. Part of me thinks I should release him from his promises and let the chips fall where they may. But I can’t. For Kyle’s sake, we can both sacrifice what we want for a short time.

“So, Mom. First, I’m glad you changed out of your scrubs because that wind is cold. Second, I should tell you…we didn’t really cook the hamburgers. We bought them and just warmed them up on the grill. But we did try the s’mores thing.”

I wrap my arm around Kyle’s waist when we start to walk and look up at my boy—the one who’s taller than me now. “Yeah, I know, Kyle. I recognized the seasoning and happen to know we don’t have any. But it’s the thought that counts, and I appreciate you two having dinner ready.”

“Do you appreciate it enough to buy the new football video game for me?”

“Do you still believe in Santa, Kyle?” Blake asks teasingly.

“Santa and the Easter Bunny if it gets me that game,” he quips.

Our combined laughter carries on the breeze, and my cold heart thaws a little more in spite of the temperature. We walk at a leisurely pace, admiring the lights and ingenuity of our neighbors. Blake and Kyle take note of the best displays and plot how to beat them. Over the couple of hours that we stroll, talk, and laugh, I catch Blake staring at me several times.

I wish I could read his mind.

But as soon as Kyle retreats to his room, I don’t have to wish anymore. Blake asks me to sit in the den with him so we can have that talk.

“I’m only telling you this because I’m trying to be honest and hold up my pledge to you. I’m not telling you this to hurt you.”

“Okay. Go on.” I inhale a deep breath and slowly release it. I have a feeling I won’t like what he has to say.

“Tammy called me today. I answered to tell her not to call me again until Kyle leaves for college. She said she misses me and doesn’t understand why it has to be this way. So I explained it to her again and asked her to be more supportive of my decision to focus on Kyle during this time. She didn’t like it, but she agreed. I just wanted to tell you up front so you don’t think I’m hiding anything from you.”