The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo(97)

Evelyn said that just last week.

And now I understand why it got under my skin.

I have been reeling because I failed. Because I picked the wrong guy for me. Because I entered the wrong marriage. Because the truth is that at the age of thirty-five, I have yet to love someone enough to sacrifice for them. I’ve yet to open my heart enough to let someone in that much.

Some marriages aren’t really that great. Some loves aren’t all-encompassing. Sometimes you separate because you weren’t that good together to begin with.

Sometimes divorce isn’t an earth-shattering loss. Sometimes it’s just two people waking up out of a fog.

“I don’t think . . . I think you should go home to San Francisco,” I say to him finally.

David comes and joins me on the couch.

“And I think I should stay here,” I say. “And I don’t think a long-distance marriage is the right play. I think . . . I think divorce is the right play.”

“Monique . . .”

“I’m sorry,” I say as he takes my hand. “I wish I didn’t feel that way. But I suspect, deep down, you think it, too. Because you didn’t come here and tell me how much you miss me. Or how hard it has been to live without me. You said you didn’t want to give up. And look, I don’t want to give up, either. I don’t want to fail at this. But that’s not actually a great reason to stay together. We should have reasons why we don’t want to give up. It shouldn’t just be that we don’t want to give up. And I don’t . . . I don’t have any.” I’m unsure how to say what I want to say gently. So I just say it. “You have never felt like my other half.”

It is only once David gets up off the sofa that I realize I assumed we would be sitting here talking for a long time. And it is only once he puts on his jacket that I realize he probably assumed he would sleep here tonight.

But once he has his hand on the doorknob, I realize that I have put into motion the end of a lackluster life in the interest of eventually finding a great one.

“I hope one day you find someone who feels like the other half of you, I guess,” David says.

Like Celia.

“Thank you,” I say. “I hope you find it, too.”

David smiles in a way that is more of a frown. And then he leaves.

When you end a marriage, you’re supposed to lose sleep over it, aren’t you?

But I don’t. I sleep free.

* * *

I GET A call from Frankie the next morning just as I’m sitting down at Evelyn’s. I consider putting it through to voice mail, but there’s already too much swirling around in my brain. To add Call back Frankie might just put me over the edge. Better to handle it now. Have it behind me.

“Hi, Frankie,” I say.

“Hey,” she says. Her voice is light, almost cheerful. “So we need to schedule the photographers. I assume Evelyn will want them to come to her there at the apartment?”

“Oh, that’s a good question,” I say. “One second.” I mute my phone and turn to Evelyn. “They are asking when and where you’ll want to do the photo shoot.”

“Here is fine,” Evelyn says. “Let’s aim for Friday.”

“That’s three days away.”

“Yes, I believe Friday comes after Thursday. Do I have that right?”

I smile and shake my head at her and then unmute Frankie. “Evelyn says here at the apartment on Friday.”

“Late morning, maybe,” Evelyn says. “Eleven.”

“Eleven, OK?” I say to Frankie.

Frankie agrees. “Absolutely fantastic!”

I hang up and look at Evelyn. “You want to do a photo shoot in three days?”

“No, you want me to do a photo shoot, remember?”

“You’re sure about Friday, though?”

“We’ll be done by then,” Evelyn says. “You’ll have to work even later than normal. I’ll make sure Grace has those muffins you like and the coffee from Peet’s that I know you prefer.”

“OK,” I say. “That’s fine, but there’s still a lot of ground to cover.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be done by Friday.”

When I look at her skeptically, she says, “You should be happy, Monique. You’re going to get your answers.”





WHEN HARRY READ THE NOTE Max had sent me, he was stunned silent. At first, I thought I had hurt his feelings by showing it to him. But then I realized he was thinking.

We had taken Connor to a playground in Coldwater Canyon in Beverly Hills. Our flight back to New York left in a few hours. Connor was playing on the swings as Harry and I watched her.

“Nothing would change between us,” he said. “If we divorced.”