Chapter 6 - The Rule I Gave My Ex-HusbandAlexander did not mention the kiss.
Not the next day.
Not the next week.
Not for twenty-three days.
It drove me insane.
Every time he arrived to pick up Ellie, he behaved normally.
“Her bottle is in the side pocket?”
“Yes.”
“She ate?”
“Yes.”
“Nap?”
“Forty minutes.”
“Any fever?”
“No.”
“Great.”
Then he left.
No lingering looks.
No teasing.
No attempt to touch me.
Nothing.
Finally, one Sunday evening, I snapped.
“Are you ever going to talk about it?”
Alexander was fastening Ellie into her car seat.
He looked up.
“Talk about what?”
“You know what.”
His mouth twitched.
I narrowed my eyes.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“You’re smiling.”
“A little.”
I folded my arms.
“I kissed you.”
“Yes.”
“In a hospital.”
“Yes.”
“After our daughter fell.”
“Yes.”
“Stop saying yes.”
He stood.
“What would you like me to say?”
I hated when he used that question.
“I don’t know.”
“Then that’s why I haven’t said anything.”
I stared.
He became serious.
“You asked for space.”
“I didn’t ask for this much space.”
“Claire.”
I exhaled sharply.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I.”
That helped.
A little.
Alexander sat on the edge of the sofa.
I remained standing.
“Do you want to kiss me again?” he asked.
My face became hot.
“That’s an incredibly direct question.”
“I spent years avoiding direct questions.”
“Therapy?”
“Unfortunately.”
I looked away.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Alexander said, “I want to kiss you too.”
My heart slammed.
“But I’m not going to.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what it means to you.”
“What does it mean to you?”
He stood.
“Everything.”
That terrified me.
“Alexander…”
“I’m not asking you for anything.”
“You just said everything.”
“I said what it means. Not what you owe me.”
I turned away.
“God, I hate this version of you.”
He laughed softly.
“I’ve heard that.”
“It was easier when you were arrogant.”
“I can try.”
“Don’t.”
He smiled.
I became serious.
“If we…”
I stopped.
Alexander waited.
“If we ever tried anything again, there would have to be rules.”
His entire body went still.
“You mean us?”
“I said if.”
“Right.”
“Do not look that excited.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I know.”
I took a breath.
“Rule one: we do not remarry.”
His expression flickered.
“Okay.”
“Not now.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe not ever.”
A longer pause.
“Okay.”
“Rule two: we don’t pretend the affair didn’t happen.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“If I have a bad day, you don’t get angry because I’m not over it fast enough.”
“I won’t.”
“Rule three: Sophia never comes near Ellie.”
“Agreed.”
“Rule four: no secrets.”
“Agreed.”
“Rule five…”
I hesitated.
“No grand gestures.”
Alexander looked offended.
“What qualifies?”
“Jets.”
“Fine.”
“Jewelry.”
“Fine.”
“Buying restaurants.”
“I have never bought a restaurant for you.”
“You tried.”
“It was a good restaurant.”
“Alexander.”
“Fine.”
“No using money to solve emotional problems.”
He nodded.
“What am I allowed to do?”
“Show up.”
His smile vanished.
Because we both understood that one.
Show up.
The thing he failed to do when it mattered most.
“I can do that,” he said.
“You have to keep doing it.”
“I know.”
“For a long time.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not promising this works.”
“I know.”
I studied him.
“Why are you agreeing to everything?”
“Because the first time you loved me, I treated your love like a permanent contract.”
He looked at Ellie.
“I know better now.”
We had our first date three weeks later.
It was ridiculous.
We were divorced.
We had a nine-month-old daughter.
We had slept beside each other for four years.
And Alexander arrived at my door holding grocery-store flowers because expensive flowers violated Rule Five.
I stared at them.
“Are those carnations?”
“Yes.”
“You hate carnations.”
“I do.”
“Why did you buy them?”
“They were nineteen dollars.”
I laughed so hard Ellie laughed too, even though she had no idea why.
Alexander pointed.
“See? She appreciates fiscal restraint.”
We went to a small Italian restaurant where nobody cared who he was.
No private room.
No security sweeping the table.
No champagne.
Alexander ordered pasta.
I ordered salmon.
Halfway through dinner, I asked something I had avoided for months.
“Do you miss her?”
He understood immediately.
“Sophia?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That fast?”
“No.”
He put down his fork.
“I missed the fantasy before I realized that’s what it was.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“I know.”
“Did you enjoy those four months?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
But I had asked.
He continued.
“There were good days.”
I swallowed.
“Were you happy?”
“Sometimes.”
I looked toward the window.
Alexander waited.
Then I asked, “Did you think about me?”
“Every day.”
“That’s worse.”
“I know.”
“Did you feel guilty?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
I hated him again for a moment.
He let me.
No defensiveness.
No explanation.
No claim that Sophia manipulated him.
Just truth.
I looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not lying.”
He nodded.
We finished dinner.
Outside, snow had started falling.
Alexander walked me to the car.
“I had a nice time.”
I smiled.
“Me too.”
He hesitated.
“Can I kiss you?”
My heart accelerated.
“You’re asking?”
“Yes.”
I stepped closer.
“Okay.”
He kissed me gently.
Nothing like the hospital.
Nothing desperate.
Slow.
Careful.
When we separated, Alexander rested his forehead against mine.
“I missed you.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
“I’m not asking you to say it.”
“I missed you too.”
His breath caught.
I stepped backward before the moment could become bigger.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I drove home smiling.
Then everything changed again.
At 1:14 in the morning, my phone rang.
Dad.
I answered half asleep.
“Dad?”
“Claire.”
His voice was sharp.
“Turn on the news.”
My stomach dropped.
I switched on the television.
A photograph of Sophia Reynolds filled the screen.
Then Alexander.
Then me.
The headline read:
SOPHIA REYNOLDS CLAIMS MORETTI AFFAIR HID BIGGER CORPORATE SECRET.
I turned up the volume.
Sophia had given an interview.
She claimed Alexander had shared confidential business information during their relationship.
She also claimed I had known about the misconduct and used it as leverage in the divorce.
It was false.
But then the reporter revealed something I hadn’t known.
Federal regulators had opened an inquiry into transactions connected to one of Moretti International’s investment divisions.
I called Alexander.
He answered immediately.
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“Is any of it true?”
Silence.
My chest tightened.
“Alexander?”
“The part about you is a lie.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Another silence.
Then he said the words that made my blood run cold.
“Claire, there’s something I should have told you months ago.”
And just like that, Rule Four shattered.
No secrets.
May you like
Alexander had promised.
Now I was about to find out whether he had changed at all.
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