Chapter 14 - THE CALL THAT ALMOST ENDED US FOREVER
I remembered the call.
I had buried it beneath panic, grief, and eighty-three unanswered attempts to reach Grace.
After finding the ultrasound, I had called Vanessa.
Not because I wanted comfort.
Because I wanted answers.
But Grace hadn't known that.
She had still been monitoring the penthouse security feed from a safe location.
She saw the call log.
She believed I had learned about our child and still turned to my mistress first.
“I almost came back,” Grace said.
We were standing on the Cape Cod porch while Eleanor slept inside.
“I was parked three blocks from the penthouse.”
I stared.
“You were in New York?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I wanted you to stop me.”
The words hurt.
“I know that isn't fair,” she continued. “I told you not to look for me. But part of me still wanted you to understand.”
“I didn't.”
“No.”
“I called Vanessa because I thought she knew about the pregnancy.”
Grace looked at me.
“I know now.”
“But then—”
“Then it felt like proof.”
She stared out at the water.
“So I drove away.”
I sat beside her.
A year earlier, I would have begged.
Promised.
Offered.
Instead, I waited.
Grace spoke first.
“I've been watching you with Eleanor.”
“I know.”
“You're patient.”
“Sometimes.”
“You changed diapers.”
“I have photographic evidence.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“I don't know whether I can ever be your wife again.”
“I know.”
“But sometimes I miss being Grace and Richard.”
My heart hurt.
“So do I.”
“I don't mean the last year of our marriage.”
“Neither do I.”
“I mean before.”
We sat quietly.
Sixteen years contained more than betrayal.
There had been cheap takeout on apartment floors.
Dancing in unfinished hotel lobbies.
Grace painting our first office herself because we couldn't afford decorators.
Me carrying her home after she broke her ankle at thirty.
Christmas mornings.
Bad movies.
Inside jokes.
Love had been real.
So was the damage.
Neither canceled the other.
“I don't want the old marriage back,” Grace said.
“Neither do I.”
She looked at me.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Her face tightened.
I continued before she could misunderstand.
“Not ownership. Not forgiveness on schedule. Not the life we had.”
I took a breath.
“If someday you want to try something new with me, I'd like that.”
“And if I don't?”
“I'll still be Eleanor's father. I'll still respect you.”
Grace stared at me for a long time.
Then she held out her hand.
I looked at it.
“Richard.”
“Yes?”
“You're supposed to take it.”
I did.
Her fingers closed around mine.
The first voluntary touch she'd given me in almost two years.
I nearly cried.
Then Eleanor began screaming inside.
Grace laughed.
“Romance is over.”
“I'll get her.”
I stood.
Grace stopped me.
“Wait.”
She kissed my cheek.
Brief.
Soft.
Gone before I could react.
“Don't make that face.”
“What face?”
“You look like somebody gave you a billion dollars.”
I smiled.
“They didn't.”
Something far more valuable had happened.
Grace had given me one inch of trust.
I intended to spend the rest of my life proving I deserved it.
Six months later, we began dating.
Actual dates.
No private jets unless necessary.
No assistants planning them.
Sometimes pizza.
Sometimes long walks.
Sometimes therapy together.
We argued.
Grace sometimes cried.
I sometimes hated hearing what I'd done.
But I stayed.
Then, on the second anniversary of the night she disappeared, Grace asked me to meet her at the Mercer Center.
Inside her office was the old anniversary gift box.
The baby socks.
The ultrasound.
My chest tightened.
“Why is this here?”
Grace opened the drawer.
She removed another object.
Her old wedding ring.
I stared.
“I kept it.”
“Why?”
“I thought I'd eventually throw it away.”
“And?”
“I realized I don't want it back.”
My heart sank.
Then she smiled.
“I want a different one.”
I stopped breathing.
Grace stepped closer.
“If we ever marry again, Richard Hayes, I'm not marrying the man I left.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
May you like
She touched my face.
“Because I think I'm falling in love with the man you became after I did.”
