The sex was mechanical and over before it started—at
least before Abby started. Wil rolled away from her,
breathing heavily.
Abby stared at the ceiling. What the hell was that?
When she turned her head to look at him, a tear rolled into
the fine, graying hair at his temple.
“Wil? Honey, what’s going on?” She placed a hand
tentatively on his shoulder, her voice quivering.
“I... I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know.” His voice was tight.
Anger replaced her fear. “If you don’t know, who
does?”
Unflinching, he didn’t turn to look at her and didn’t say
a word.
She took a deep breath. “We just had sex in under four
minutes, and now you’re crying. Something is wrong. Are
you sick?”
“I’m sorry,” he said flatly, turning his head and looking
at her through glazed eyes.
Now she saw the pain on his face. Her first instinct was
to pull him to her, hold him, and ask him to tell her what
hurt so deeply. Instead, she sat up, pulling the sheet under
her armpits. “Sorry for what?”
Wil turned his gaze back to the ceiling as he spoke.
“I’ve tried, Abby. I’ve really tried. I don’t know what
happened. Everything just... changed. The last thing I
want to do is hurt you. You have to know that, but...” His
voice trailed off.
Tried? The last thing...? A shiver shook her, as if an ice
cube had been rolled down her spine. A lump formed in
her throat, suppressing the scream that pushed its way up
from her center. She waited for him to finish, hoping he
wouldn’t.
Wil exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for a
very long time. “I can’t do this anymore.”
There. There it was. The proverbial elephant in the
room had been acknowledged.
It was Abby’s turn to exhale as her body went numb.
She wanted to wake up and find she’d been dreaming.
She focused on the first thing she saw—a painting on
the opposite wall of a sailboat on open water, headed into
a magnificent sunset. Fixing her gaze on the boat, she
refused to let anything else enter her line of vision. Then a
thought slid like vapor through her brain. Her voice
sounded foreign to her as she spoke. “Do you want a
divorce?”
“Yes,” he answered too quickly. He didn’t move,
didn’t look at her, didn’t soften his response.
BOOK
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