“You were gone all the time.”
There it was.
Not an apology.
An accusation.
I felt something inside me become strangely calm.
“I was serving.”
“I know.”
“You knew when you married me.”
“I know.”
“You renewed vows with me knowing it.
You sent care packages knowing it.
You wrote that you were proud of me knowing it.
Last night you texted that you missed me knowing it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Do you know what it’s like to live alone year after year?”
“Do you know what it’s like to trust someone year after year?”
He turned away.
“Celeste was there.”
“So was I.
You simply decided distance made me disposable.”
He flinched.
“That’s not fair.”
I actually smiled then.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the man who had given my name, my home, and my jewelry to another woman was asking me for fairness.
“Does Celeste know we’re still married?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation answered before he did.
“She knows we haven’t finalized anything.”
“There is nothing to finalize.
We never began anything.
You never asked me for a separation.”
“I was going to.”
“When? After my next deployment? After she had finished wearing everything in my jewelry box?”
He stepped toward me.
“Keep your voice down.”
I stared at him.
“There’s nobody here except us.
Who exactly are you worried will hear the truth?”
His phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen and immediately silenced it.
I did not need to ask.
“Celeste?”
He said nothing.
Then the front door opened downstairs.
Graham’s head snapped toward the hallway.
A woman’s voice called his name.
Celeste.
I watched panic move across his face.
It was the first completely honest expression I had seen from him all day.
Her heels clicked across the hardwood downstairs, then climbed the staircase.
When she reached the bedroom doorway, she stopped.
She was no longer wearing the cream dress from the office.
But the silver star was still around her neck.
My pendant.
For one long moment the three of us simply stood there.
