Chapter 5 - THE PROMISE HE NEVER KNEW HE MADE
Mark looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.
I sat very still.
“Explain.”
He sighed.
“Back in college, Natalie and Ethan made one of those stupid promises. If neither was married by thirty-five, they'd marry each other.”
I stared.
“That was before I met him.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was Natalie still talking about it afterward?”
Mark looked down.
“Because she never really stopped treating it like an option.”
I felt sick.
“Did Ethan know?”
“I don't think he took it seriously.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Mark sighed.
“He knew about the promise. But I don't think he knew how much she still cared.”
I looked toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
For years, Natalie had been making little comments.
I knew him first.
He's always been my person.
We'd be married if we'd both been single at thirty-five.
I'd laughed.
Because everyone laughed.
Now I understood why the jokes had always made me feel cold.
That evening, I called Ethan.
“Did you promise Natalie you'd marry her if you were both single at thirty-five?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Did you ever tell me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a stupid college joke.”
I closed my eyes.
“Ethan, she kept repeating it after we got married.”
He sighed.
“I know.”
I opened my eyes.
“You knew?”
“I thought she was kidding.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Did you ever ask her to stop?”
Silence.
I felt tears rising.
“Ethan.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“Do you understand how humiliating that was?”
His voice broke.
“Yes.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said:
“Claire, I need to tell you something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Last night, Natalie came to the house.”
I froze.
“Why?”
“She wanted to talk.”
“Did you let her in?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
He continued quickly.
“I told her we needed boundaries. I told her our friendship couldn't continue the way it had.”
I waited.
Then he said:
“She kissed me.”
Everything went silent.
I could hear the rain against Rachel's windows.
My own breathing.
Nothing else.
Finally, I whispered:
“Did you kiss her back?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Yes.”
He sounded devastated.
“I stepped away. I told her to leave.”
I sat down.
“Why didn't you tell me immediately?”
“I was afraid you'd think—”
“That you cheated?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the wall.
Then whispered:
“Ethan, I asked you for honesty. Not information carefully arranged to protect your image.”
He began crying.
I'd never heard him cry before.
“Claire, I'm sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“I need to go.”
“Please don't hang up.”
I ended the call.
Then sat in silence.
For seven years, I'd been told there was nothing to worry about.
And now the woman who was supposedly family had kissed my husband.
I didn't know whether to scream.
Or cry.
Or laugh at how long I'd spent convincing myself I was imagining things.
May you like
Instead, I opened my laptop.
And began looking for apartments.
