The Husband Hour(57)

This dominated the conversation for days. Lauren got tired of it.

The two brothers took long walks, and she made dinner plans with friends from work to give them bonding time.

The visit must have done the trick, because in the days immediately following it, Rory seemed noticeably calmer. She said as much to him one night, climbing into bed.

“Yeah. I am,” he said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

“Oh?” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Anything you care to share with your future wife?”

She was being playful, but when he turned, the look on his face was serious.

“Yes, actually. It’s something we need to talk about.”

Lauren wanted to rewind, to go back two minutes before she’d climbed into bed. As if by avoiding the conversation, she could change whatever it was going on in Rory’s mind. Because it was bad—she knew it was bad. Was he having second thoughts about the wedding?

Rory reached for her hand, and she closed her eyes.

“You know my contract is up this summer. I go into free agency.”

Wait—this was about his career? “Yes, I know. Are you worried?”

“Not worried. But I’m thinking I can do something more meaningful with my life than ride the bench on a hockey team. There’s so much going on in the world.”

She nodded, pretending to understand. “Okay. Like what?”

“I want to join the military.”

Oh my God. “Where is this coming from?” As soon as the question was out of her mouth, she knew: Emerson.

And she remembered a conversation from many summers ago, at Boston Style Pizza: I don’t think I’d be happy if I wasn’t good at something. Great at something.

“You know, you can quit hockey without doing something this extreme.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Are you even physically eligible for the military?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m an athlete.”

“You’ve had concussions.”

“That was over a year ago. A nonissue.” The way he said it, she knew this was past the hypothetical stage.

“You’ve already talked to a recruiter.”

He nodded. He’d gone with Emerson. Behind her back.

Her eyes filled with tears. “What if something happens to you?”

“Oh, Lauren. It’s more likely that I’d get another head injury on the ice and be fucked up for life. There’s risk involved, yes. But there’s risk in everything.”

Lauren put her head in her hands. This couldn’t be happening.

“We’ll be apart,” she said, unable to look at him. “We’ll be apart for long stretches of time.” Blood pounded in her ears. She could barely hear his response, something affirmative and empathetic and infuriating. She looked up. “You asked me to move here, promising we were starting a life together. We’re not going to have a life together!”

“I understand what you’re saying. It’s not what you signed on for. And if this changes how you feel about the wedding—”

She sobbed, pulling away from him when he tried to hold her.

There was no way out of it. If she called off the engagement, she would be heartbroken and miss him for the rest of her life. If she married him, she would be heartbroken and miss him and worry herself sick while he was gone. There was no path to happiness.

Lauren turned away from the box, remembering that feeling of hopelessness as if it were yesterday. He’d given her no choice back then, all those years ago. But she had choices now.

She thought about what Matt had said to her at the restaurant that afternoon. Yes, she knew the real story. And yes, he could help her “get it out there.” The thing was, she didn’t want it out there. But she didn’t want someone else’s version out there either.

Lauren reached for her phone.



Matt told himself not to push, not to rush. He let the vodka set the pace. When Stephanie was halfway done, he let himself drink some of his own. And when she was finished, he said, “So, how much, exactly, did Rory like you?”

“Well, I slept with him. You know that, right?”

Was she for real? “No. How would I know that? You didn’t mention that in the interview.”

She shrugged. “Water under the bridge, as they say.”

“Did Lauren know about it?”

“It was before they hooked up, and yeah, she knew about it. And she didn’t care. I mean, maybe she cared that I’d slept with him but she didn’t care about my feelings.”

“You mean she…it was like she stole him from you?”

“No. It was over before they got together. But still, there’s a code, you know? That’s what I told her when I found out. There’s a sister code. And she just didn’t get it.”

He nodded. Okay, this was only high-school stuff. Sisterly competition. The significance was nil. He signaled Desiree that he wanted to settle the tab.

“That’s why,” she said, slurring just a little, “that’s why, when I fucked him again years later, I didn’t feel that bad about it. And no, Lauren does not know about that.” She leaned closer to him. “It can be our little secret.”