“Oh, I suppose that’s true.” She giggled like a schoolgirl, and I smiled. I was glad she was happy with someone else. Then she would have no reason to fight our divorce. “Though Marc is no longer in the picture. I’m with Antonio now.”
“Antonio? Where did you meet him?”
“On my trip to Italy last month.”
“You know, people usually bring back knickknacks when they come home from a trip, but you return with a man as a souvenir.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Please, Emma. Would our marriage have lasted this long if either of us was jealous? We’re not that kind of people.” Though I could be for the right person. Ozzie flashed through my mind. So thoughtful and sweet. And waiting for me on the porch.
“True,” she said. “Why did you call me? Is it about the wedding? Ozzie is not messing up everything, is he?”
“He’s managing things on his own pretty well, given Carter has abandoned him.” Nope, he wasn’t. We’d made no further preparations for the wedding, and we wouldn’t until Carter returned home to the truth.
“Hmm. Well, you can’t really blame him, can you? He’s celebrating the last of his freedom before he gets shackled. I told him he’s too young, but he wouldn’t listen. What’s the rush? It’s one thing for him to marry someone so dowdy, but I’ll be damned he’s getting a lousy wedding. I’m going to bring important guests with me.”
“Emma, this is their wedding, not yours. You get a plus-one. That’s all. Bring Antonio.”
Fuck. Why am I telling her who to bring to a fake wedding?
She clicked her tongue. “I still haven’t received the save-the-date cards. Isn’t there a wedding planner in town who can help the poor thing?”
“Ozzie is doing fine, Em. That’s not why I called.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Well, what is it?”
Silence ticked between us. I inhaled deeply and let out the breath slowly. “We need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“I mean a serious conversation in person. Is it okay to visit you this weekend?”
“I suppose. We can always stay at a hotel. I’ll make something up to tell Antonio why I’m gone. His English isn’t that good.”
“No, we don’t need a hotel room.” In the past when we met up, we’d slept together, but I hadn’t touched her in years. “Why don’t you reserve one of those private tables at the country club, and we meet there and talk?”
“Gray, what is this about?”
“Our marriage—if it can be called that.”
“It’s been over a decade, and you’ve never had an issue with our marriage. Why now?”
“It’s just time. The kids are old enough now. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“I see.” She cleared her throat. “Very well, then. I’ll get in touch with the rest of the details.”
“Thank you.” But she already ended the call. For a moment, I stared blankly at the phone, my heart pounding and my mind whirling. Why had I kept the marriage going for so long? We’d been apart for years. I’d known this day was coming, and I’d expected to be gleeful about it, but not feel this sense of failure. Of giving up. But hadn’t we both given up years ago?
I shook my head to dispel the thoughts. I didn’t want Emma back. We were a disaster when we’d been together, and during our estrangement, we hadn’t even been friends. Not really. Friendship required common ground. We didn’t have any.
Shaking off my melancholy, I headed downstairs. Gertie poked her head out of the kitchen and jerked her thumb over her shoulder, her face set in a determined line.
I followed her into the kitchen. “What is it?”
