Now that she’d had his children, raised them.
She’d loved him when he’d had a ridiculous mop of curly hair that covered his eyebrows and couldn’t last longer than two minutes during sex. She’d taught him how to touch her, and he’d gotten very good at it. He’d gone from dopey teen boy to hot man and she’d been there every step of the way. This version of him, forty, good at conversation, good in bed, was supposed to be her reward for loving him all this time. Now he wanted to give this to someone else?
Now that he’d aged into himself like the finest of wines, he wanted to be withotherwomen.
She had trained him. Honed his skills.
She’d had his babies, cleaned his house, done his laundry, and not like he hadn’t done his share of household chores. Not that he wasn’t a wonderful father. It was just that they’d done the hard part. They’d done the things that broke people up.
Financial stress and buying houses and starting new careers and finding out your middle child was failing math and smoking weed.
They’d done all that and been just fine.
All through the years, they’d chosen each other. That’s what a happy marriage was. It wasn’t that there were never struggles, but she…she chose him every time, even when it felt hard.
They’d gone from teenagers to mature adults together, and now that they were…like the very best versions of themselves, he wanted to share that? The version of him she’d helped create? That she’dearned?
“Why…are you telling me this in public?”
He pursed his lips, cleared his throat—which always meant he was about to say something she didn’t like, but that was probably also true. “I wanted to actually talk to you and not the bedroom door.”
“I don’t think I would have walked away from this conversation. Frankly, I’m riveted.”
“You would have.”
She would have.
“You don’t like conflict,” he continued.
“Well, if you knew this would make conflict, why bring it up?”
“Because. Because sometimes I wonder if we make certain choices because the path is well-worn. Because there are examples of this exact life all around us.”
“Except we’re different,” she said. “Because we’re friends. We like each other. We…”
“Exactly. Wearedifferent. I already know I don’t want to be without you. When I started thinking about this, I considered all the options.”
He’d been considering options. While she’d been grocery shopping, writing articles and having coffee with her friends. While she’d been showing him the new dress she’d bought at Target and then the new underwear that matched, he’d been considering options. She’d been having her normal, everyday life and he’d been…
“We got together so young,” he said. “I started thinking about our lives and how it’s built on a foundation of doing what the people around us said was right. Our beliefs have shifted a lot over the years, and we’re still living a life we chose before. I don’t want to burn all this down, but I’m just questioning why we’re doing it…this way when there are other options out there.”
“Are you cheating on me?” she asked, a sudden anger, a sudden terror rising up in her chest and overtaking everything.
She had missed this entire upheaval inside of him. What else was she missing?
“Hot plates,” said their waitress, approaching the table and setting down her steak and his hamburger.
Sam looked up and stared at the woman. The woman smiled.
Sam frowned and looked back at Will as the waitress walked away.
Sam just stared.
“I’mnotcheating on you,” he said. “I never have. I would never.”
“You are literally asking my permission to cheat on me.”
“I’m not. I am asking if you’re open to nonmonogamy, and that isn’t cheating. I haven’t talked to anyone else about this, I haven’t lied to you, I haven’t hidden anything from you except the reading I’ve been doing about open relationships and how to navigate them.” She could see his discomfort. He was playing with the fork, his breathing was choppy. It was…a big deal to him. He cared about this, and he was afraid to talk to her about it.
