The Husband Hour(77)

“Okay, but it’s different. I mean, you can’t compare athletes and soldiers.”

“In this context, you can. And Rory happened to be both.”

“We don’t know for a fact that he suffered from traumatic brain injury.”

“I think it’s textbook. You know it too.”

She sipped her pink cocktail.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he said.

“When have you asked me anything but personal questions?”

He made a waving gesture. “That was for work. I mean as a friend.”

Were they friends? “Sure. Ask away.”

“Why haven’t you dated since Rory’s death?”

The question felt like a slap. Her drink was suddenly too sweet, all sugar and no anesthetic effect.

“Because…because that part of my life is behind me.”

He shook his head. “Lauren, you know that’s not rational, right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Lauren, your husband died. It’s a tragedy. But it shouldn’t define the rest of your life.”

“Why shouldn’t it?”

“Should I let Ben’s death define me?”

“Aren’t you? Isn’t that what this whole thing is about? And besides, where’s your wife? Or girlfriend?”

“Okay, I’ll admit I’ve been a little consumed with work the past few years. My personal life has suffered. But I’m trying to do something positive.”

“Well, maybe I am too.”

“Or maybe you’re afraid.”

She pushed away her drink. “Maybe I don’t want to be in love again. I had a chance, I tried, and I failed.”

Matt shook his head. “Lauren, you didn’t fail.”

“Haven’t you listened to a thing I’ve said these past few weeks?”

“I’ve listened to every word you’ve said. And I’ve watched the footage. I know what you’ve said better than you do.”

“So then you know I left him when he needed me most.”

“How do you figure?”

She bit her lip. “He wouldn’t have been in Iraq that day if I had moved back to his post with him. He would never have asked to redeploy so soon.”

“Lauren,” he said slowly, “if anything, he failed you. Again and again. When did he ever put you first? You bought into this notion that he was special—hell, so did I. But guess what—he wasn’t. He was just a man, a man who made mistakes, who hurt people, and who ultimately lost his life. He was gifted, but he was flawed. And the system is flawed, and for Rory—and for others, no doubt—the combination was lethal. But nowhere in this whole story do I see your culpability.”

She covered her eyes with her hands, tears wetting her palms. “I could have made a difference in how things turned out if I hadn’t been so damn passive. I let the NHL make the calls about his health, I let Emerson influence him, and I let him decide to join the military when really it should have been our decision as a couple. I let every external factor set the course. Because I wasn’t strong enough to set it myself.”

“I disagree. I don’t think it had anything to do with lack of strength. I think it took a lot of strength to keep putting your own needs, your gut instincts, aside. Because you didn’t want to get in the way of the great Rory Kincaid, because all you heard from his family was that you were a distraction, all you heard from coaches was that he was special and he was destined for greatness, and all you heard from him was that he needed to excel and dominate or he couldn’t be happy. You two were living by different codes. They were impossible to reconcile. But your code was unconditional love, and you were true to that until it became dangerous. If you’d been with another type of person, you would have gotten back what you were giving. You would have been happy.” He took her by the shoulders, turned her toward him. His face was emotional, the neutral listener gone. “And Lauren, I’m sorry to say, but you’re fucking crazy for not giving yourself a chance to experience that.”

“Experience what?” she said bitterly. “What, exactly, am I supposed to experience now?”

He stared at her for a beat, his hands moving from her shoulders to her face.

And he kissed her.



Beth tucked Ethan into bed, telling him that Aunt Lauren would read to him tomorrow night, for sure.

“Is she out with Mommy?” he asked.

No, Beth highly doubted that. “Maybe,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll be home soon. But it’s bedtime for you. You’ll see them in the morning.”

She kissed him on the forehead and slipped out of the room. What an exhausting day. The last mile of driving on Black Horse Pike, she could barely keep her eyes open. But Ethan, overstimulated from a day running around Center City, Philadelphia, with her, had been a nonstop chatterbox. She probably should have stuck with her plan to stay overnight, but she felt compelled to drive back to the shore at the last minute.

A breeze blew into the kitchen through a window she’d left open. It was a beautiful night. She opened a bottle of white wine and poured a glass. She leaned against the counter and sipped slowly.

The day after Nora had mentioned selling everything, even the four walls, she realized she and Howard were looking at the business problem completely wrong. Their options weren’t only to keep it going or sell it; they could sublease the space. With just one day in Philly exploring this option, she’d put out some feelers and had leads on potential tenants. Nothing concrete, but it was a start.