They were what I carried when I wanted the appearance of love without paying its actual cost.
That cost was not expensive dinners.
It wasn’t jewelry.
It wasn’t a house in Belle Meade.
It wasn’t private villas or successful companies.
Love had asked for smaller things.
Answer the phone.
Come home.
Sit beside your wife at the appointment.
Hold her hand when she is afraid.
Be in the chair beside the hospital bed.
Stay awake with your son.
Tell the truth before someone has to prove it.
I was able to afford every luxury I wanted.
And somehow, I was too selfish to pay for the life that mattered.
I started the car.
Owen babbled behind.
Before pulling away, I looked once more at Corinne standing in the doorway.
She lifted her hand.
I lifted mine.
Then I drove away.
The life I built was gone.
The marriage was over.
