in spite of my nerves.
I see her peek through the window, her squeal of excitement muffled by the door between us. She pulls it open and throws herself at me for a hug.
“Daddy, why are you here? Did you come to see me because you miss me?” she asks. “Did you bring me an early Christmas present?”
I chuckle, kissing the top of her head. “No present, but I always miss you. I came to talk to your mother.”
Val appears as if on cue. She’s wearing a forced smile, her body language stiff and closed off.
“Come on in, Ev.” She waves me in, stepping aside so I can kick the snow off my boots and take them off.
“Thanks for letting me swing by to talk.”
“Of course,” she says. “Liv, go play in your room for a little while.”
“But I want to see Daddy,” she argues.
“Maybe he can stay for lunch,” Val offers.
“I’d like that,” I agree, hoping like hell the invitation will still be open after our conversation.
“Ugh, fine,” my daughter pouts, stomping off to her room dramatically.
I follow Val into the living room, and we both take a seat on the sofa. I still remember when we picked this sofa out, how we stood in the store arguing over which one to buy until we flipped a coin to decide. There’s a faint stain on the middle cushion where I spilled coffee jumping up too fast once when Livi tried to pull the TV over as a toddler, a threadbare spot on the arm where my head always seemed to land when I would fall asleep watching movies with Val. This is the exact spot we sat when Val told me she’d had an affair, and when we finally decided to divorce.
My heart feels heavy, and my stomach is in knots as I meet her eyes.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around what you told me yesterday,” she confesses, biting her bottom lip as she scoots closer and puts a hand on my arm.
“It’s a lot. I get it,” I assure her.
“I just don’t get why now?” she asks. “If you’ve known for so long, why are you telling me now?”
“I met someone,” I answer.
I didn’t think she could look more shell shocked than she already was, but that little admission did it.
I sit silently, waiting for her to say something, giving her a chance to wrap her head around what I’ve said. I drag my tongue over my dry lips, which does no good since my whole mouth is drier than the Sahara.
“You met someone?” she repeats after what feels like an eternity.
I nod. “He’s a great guy. He’s smart and funny and really sweet. He’s—”
She puts a hand up to stop me and gives me a tight smile. “I get it.” She shakes her head and stands up from the couch, running her hands through her long, blonde hair as she paces toward the window and then turns around and comes back in the other direction. “I don’t understand. We were married for fourteen years. How…”
I open my mouth to answer, and she shakes her head and puts her hands up again to ward me off.
“On the bright side, at least I know now that you didn’t stop having sex with me because of something I did,” she says with a humorless laugh, almost to herself as she continues to pace the floor. When she spins to face me again, there’s a new look of frustration in her eyes. “What the fuck, Ev?”
“I’m not even sure where to start,” I admit.
“Start by explaining why the hell we’ve known each other for twenty-five years and you’re just now telling me that you’re gay.”
“For a long time, I thought I was bi—at least that’s what I told myself. While we were married, I knew I was attracted to men, but I just sort of shoved it to the back of my mind and ignored it. And then after the divorce, I told myself I was too busy with the business and with Livi to bother thinking about it. But I can’t ignore it anymore; I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”
“I feel so stupid right now,” Val says, sounding almost hysterical as she puts her hands over her face. “I’ve known you over half my life, we’ve had sex, how did I not know? All those years when I loved you so much and thought we’d grow old together, and you didn’t…you weren’t…” She starts to cry, and my