My Husband Sold Our Perfect Marriage on Tour, So I Ended It on Stage novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: Come Home

Brendan found me alone in the Chicago suite the next afternoon, and he locked the door behind him.

I was in the sitting room by the window, with a notebook on my knee and the Lyric Auditorium visible across the street.

I had been writing my speech.

I closed the notebook slowly.

"Roz," he said.

"Brendan."

He did not look angry.

He looked lovely.

He wore a cream sweater and no tie, the look he saved for interviews about family, and he held two paper cups of the tea I used to like.

He set one on the table by my elbow.

"I wanted to come in before tomorrow," he said, "and say something real."

"All right."

"I have been terrible to you."

He sat on the arm of the sofa with his head bowed.

"I know that. I've been selfish and busy and weak. When I saw you with him in that photo, I didn't feel anger. I felt grief."

"There was no photo."

"Tallis described it."

"Ah."

"But it doesn't matter."

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