“No. I’m not.”
“What’s going on?” he asked, somehow scooting his chair closer to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I allowed him to comfort me as I cried into him for a moment, loving the way his arm felt around me, strong and warm and caring. It had been well over a year since I felt like a man cared about me.
“I’m getting a divorce,” I said. It was the first time I had ever said it out loud to another person.
I heard him take in a sharp breath. My mind was foggy from all of the vodka, but his chest rose quickly, and then he backed up a bit and looked at me. His thumb brushed against my cheek.
“What happened?” he asked, that beautiful hand of his running back through those gorgeous wisps of hair. The more I drank, the more I found myself staring at that dark hair, wondering what it would feel like between my own fingers.
“A lot,” I said, smiling sadly through the tears that wouldn’t stop now. “We sort of grew apart right after we got married, and things have been going straight downhill ever since.”
“Is there someone else?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. We’ve both been faithful, but he has hurt me more times that I can count, and I can’t forgive him for it anymore.”
His eyes darkened. “Has he…” he trailed off, but I knew where he was going.
“No,” I said immediately, and I saw a flash of relief in Jesse’s eyes. “He’s never hurt me physically. We’re just… different people than we were when we got married. We’ve grown apart, and there’s no salvaging it.”
“Irreconcilable differences?” he asked, and I nodded ruefully, picking my drink back up and playing with the straw.
“I always thought that was such a copout, but now that it’s me, it’s actually pretty accurate.”
“I’m sorry, V,” he said. His eyes were dark and sincere.
“Thanks, Jesse.”
“How long have you known?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer as we both settled back into our chairs. Jesse crossed one leg over the other, one ankle resting on his other knee as he leaned back and drank his beer.
The view wasn’t too shabby.
“That I’m getting divorced?” I asked, the words still feeling strange falling out of my mouth.
“That there were differences that couldn’t be reconciled.”
“A year. Maybe more.”
“What happened a year ago that made you realize that?”
“There isn’t one big thing, but what it comes down to is that I think we just fell out of love. Or maybe we never had that love in the first place; I don’t know. I know I don’t miss him when we’re apart, and I don’t think he misses me, either,” I said, realizing that I was rambling. I took another sip of my drink, and then I continued. “He’s become unrecognizable to me. He isn’t the Richard I fell in love with anymore. He runs around with a new group of friends and they’re all assholes, and he’s become one, too.
“Have you talked to anyone about it?” he asked.
I shook my head. “We tried couples counseling, but it didn’t work. We tried a lot of different things, but you’re the first person I have ever told.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You haven’t talked to anybody about this?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “Talking about it makes it real. We’re just separated right now.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.
I nodded slowly. “Yes. I am positive. I’ve been living in limbo for a year, and it’s time to take the next step. I can’t keep living like this anymore. We haven’t officially filed for divorce, but I’m planning to fill out the papers this weekend and get everything filed early next week.”
“Do you need some help?” he asked.
“Yeah. You could print the papers for me so all I have to do is fill them out,” I said sarcastically, thinking about how all it would take for me to print the papers was to actually go to the website and locate them. It couldn’t be hard, but it was just one of those steps that seemed harder to take than it actually would be.
He chuckled, and then both of our drinks were suddenly empty.
“You want another?” he asked, nodding toward my glass.
I shook my head. “I shouldn’t.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. “You ready to head home?” he asked.
I nodded reluctantly. I didn’t want to go home. Richard would be there, and I didn’t want to be reminded of the difficult tasks I had lying ahead of me. While we’d both known for awhile that it was over, actually ending it with that final cut of ties wasn’t going to be easy. Ending a relationship was never easy, but ending a marriage was completely different than dumping a boyfriend. No matter who you were, it cut and it hurt.