to say about Regina.”
Walt couldn’t help wincing. How could he have betrayed Claire, when she’d been faithful to him for so long, when he owed her more than he did anyone else? “I won’t see her again, of course.”
“That’s not enough, Walt.” Claire’s eyes remained steady. “I need some sort of explanation. What went wrong between us? Not knowing the answer to that question has been the toughest part of the past few months. You came home, told me you were in love with someone else, and moved out. You never even told me what I was doing wrong.”
“Because you weren’t doing anything wrong.” Forced to deal with the issues he’d worked so hard to avoid, he sighed and shoved his plate away, although he hadn’t started eating. “Regina was…a diversion. Something different. Something to keep me from realizing—” he hesitated, embarrassed to admit the truth, even to Claire “—that I’m not as handsome as I used to be, that I’m not as strong as I used to be—”
“You’re not the only one who’s getting old,” she broke in. “We’ve been together for thirty-three years. I’m in the same boat.”
“I know.” He shook his head. “You want this to make sense, Claire, but it doesn’t. Even to me. I can’t explain what was going on in my head. I guess I just didn’t appreciate what I already had. And Regina was there, flattering me, building my ego. I suddenly felt as though I needed what she was offering.”
She studied her hands, which she’d clasped in her lap. “And after you left?” she said softly, looking up at him again. “Was life any better?”
He admired her clear, direct gaze and the loveliness of her face. Maybe she had a few wrinkles she hadn’t had when they were newlyweds, but he still found her beautiful. Still loved her, despite everything he’d said and done. “No. I wouldn’t admit it, even to myself. But on some level I knew I’d thrown away everything that really mattered to me.”
“You were going through with the divorce, though,” she said. “You were actually selling the company.”
“After what I did, I didn’t see how I could turn back. Trying to save our marriage would mean telling the truth—” he spread out his hands “—about all of this.”
“And you had too much pride for that?”
“I couldn’t deal with feeling so inadequate.”
He saw tears brimming in her eyes and understood just how deeply he’d hurt her. “Can you forgive me, Claire?” he asked, reaching across the table to take her hand.
After last night, after holding his wife in his arms again and feeling as though he’d finally come home, he was ready to ask for another chance—beg if he had to. He’d made a terrible mistake. And now he had to have the guts to make it right.
“I want to forgive you,” she whispered.
“All I ask is that you try.”
Giving him a watery smile, she nodded.
GUNNER SHOWERED before calling Quincy Senior back. He wanted a few minutes to think—about his father, his mother, the lack of direction in his life during the past eighteen months…and April. But the hour at which he was supposed to meet the others in the lobby was fast approaching. If he didn’t get on the phone right away, he’d lose the opportunity to make amends for the distant way he’d behaved earlier.
“Hello?”
His father answered right away.
“It’s me, Dad.”
“Gunner?”
The question in his father’s voice caused Gunner a fresh twinge of guilt. He was beginning to understand that his behavior stemmed from anger, but looking closer for the cause of that anger, revealed something he didn’t want to see. Basically, he was angry that the wrong parent had died.
“I…” Now that he had his father on the phone, everything Gunner wanted to say fled instantly, leaving him with mixed emotions.
“Is something wrong?” his father said.
“No, I called because…” Why? To admit that he’d been holding out? He didn’t want to put them both through an uncomfortable apology, so he said the only other thing on his mind. “To tell you that I’ve met someone.”
Silence, then, “When?”
Gunner drew in a deep breath. “I’ve known her for a few weeks.”
“She must be special. You’ve never called to talk about a woman before.”
“She is. It’s just that—”
“What?”
Stabbing a hand through his hair, Gunner sat on the bed, wishing he could discuss April with his mother, instead. If Olivia was still there, she’d be full of good advice. But she wasn’t.
Maybe it was time he started accepting the parent he