“You’ve been a great mom,” I conceded. “Oh, for art class, you’ll need to bring the vase she made last week. This weekend, she’ll be painting it.”

“Where is it?”

“I put it in the pantry. Top shelf, on the right.”

“Got it,” she said. “Oh, one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if you had time for a late lunch tomorrow. Around one thirty? We need to talk before I have to pick up London from school.”

Despite everything, I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of sitting across the table from her. Of seeing her.

“Of course,” I said. “Where?”

She named a place we both knew, a place we’d eaten many times before. Including, once, on our anniversary.

I hung up the phone, wondering if it was an omen.

“Of course you can stay with us,” Marge said into the receiver. I’d just returned from the grocery store and was putting the orange juice into the refrigerator before calling her. “You’ll have to promise not to walk around in your droopy underwear or drink your coffee at the table without a shirt on, though. In fact, don’t even pack any droopy underwear, okay?”

“Do you even know me?”

“Of course. Why do you think I’m pointing these things out?”

“I promise.”

“We won’t be around on Saturday, though. You’ll be on your own. A friend of ours is having a housewarming party.”

No wife, no London, no parents, and now, no sister to see on the weekend. I wondered when the last time was that I was utterly on my own, figuring it had been years since something like that had happened.

“No worries. I have work.”

“I’ll still call you, just to make sure you’re okay. But back to Vivian. Are you sure lunch is such a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Whenever someone says ‘we need to talk,’ it’s never a good thing.”

“Believe me when I say I’m not expecting much.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “You remember what Liz said, right? She’s not going to tell you that she wants to come back.”

“Liz told you what we talked about?”

“Of course not,” she said. “But I know you, and it’s not too hard to figure out what you might ask her. And because I know her, I also know what she told you. It’s not as though the two of us haven’t had a million discussions about what’s going on. It’s been a hot topic around the old homestead these days.”

“There are better things for the two of you to discuss than my marriage.”

“And you’d be right ninety-nine percent of the time,” she said. “But lately? We’re definitely in that pesky one percent.”

“What else are you saying to each other?”

“We talk about how much you’re hurting, and that we don’t know what to say or do to make it better. You’re such a good man, such a good father. It isn’t fair.”

I couldn’t help but choke up a bit. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Of course I do. Big sister, remember?”

I hesitated. “Do you think Vivian is struggling?”

“I’m sure she is. You can’t do what she did and not feel at least a little bit of guilt. But I’m not sure she dwells on her feelings the way you do. My sense is that you two are just wired differently.”

That made sense. But… “I still care about her,” I offered. “She’s been a wonderful wife.”

Marge breathed into the receiver. “Are you sure about that?”

Vivian had been right about London; when she woke Friday morning, her voice had a raspy edge to it and on our way out the door, she began wiping at her nose. I wondered how long it would take for the medicine to kick in.

After drop-off, I tossed some clothes in a duffel bag and drove to the office. Still no phone calls for the Phoenix Agency, but on the upside, the receptionist was getting used to my presence and had even started saying, “Good morning, Mr. Green.”

I spent most of the morning working with my tech guy. Together, we discussed and made decisions on the overall plan, then moved toward discussions of Internet prioritization, targeted banner ads, and a social media campaign. We spent almost three hours together and by the end, I felt like he had more than enough work to keep him busy for a couple of weeks, as did I.

Once that was done, I sent confirmation emails regarding the third commercial I’d film for Taglieri the following Friday, then left a message for the surgeon asking for the names of patients who might be willing to provide on-camera testimonials.

As I worked, I noticed the tension in my shoulders and back seemed to be intensifying, and it dawned on me that I was nervous at the thought of seeing Vivian. Despite her betrayal, despite asking me to make myself scarce all weekend, I wondered if I would meet with a Vivian who was willing to try to work things out. While I knew that Marge and Liz were trying to keep me grounded in reality with what to expect, the heart wants what it wants. Hope might leave me crushed in the end, but losing all hope somehow seemed even worse.

I ended up leaving the office at half past noon, and arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early. I’d made reservations and the waiter led me to a table near the window. Most of the other tables were already occupied. I ordered a cocktail, hoping that it would keep me calm. I wanted to approach the lunch in the same way I had the phone call, but as soon as Vivian entered the restaurant, I held my breath, releasing it only when she approached the table.