Chapter 6 - Dating His WifeTheir first date was terrible.
The restaurant lost the reservation.
Rain soaked Jack’s jacket.
Grace arrived twenty minutes late because the subway stalled.
The table was beside the kitchen.
Someone dropped a tray behind them.
Jack ordered the wrong wine.
Grace loved every minute.
“This might be the least impressive evening you’ve ever arranged,” she said.
Jack looked around the crowded Italian restaurant.
“I’m devastated.”
“You should be.”
“I considered buying the building.”
Grace pointed her fork at him.
“Therapy.”
“I said considered.”
She laughed.
They talked for three hours.
Not about the marriage.
Not directly.
Grace told him about Harbor House.
Jack told her he had started cooking.
“You?”
“I can make eggs.”
“That is not cooking.”
“I can make several types.”
“Name them.”
“Fried.”
“Continue.”
“Scrambled.”
“Impressive.”
“And burned.”
Grace nearly spilled her water.
Jack stared at her as she laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like I’m a memory.”
Jack looked down.
“Sorry.”
Grace softened.
“No. It’s okay.”
He met her eyes.
“I missed that sound.”
Her laughter faded.
“I missed giving you reasons to make it.”
The date ended with a hug.
Jack asked permission.
Grace said yes.
His arms closed around her.
For one second, she nearly collapsed into him.
Instead, she stepped back.
“Next week?”
Jack’s expression lit.
“If you want.”
“I do.”
Their second date was a museum.
Their third was pizza in Grace’s apartment.
Jack saw the green mug.
The yellow blanket.
The repaired drawer.
He looked around the tiny room.
“I like it.”
Grace folded her arms.
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.”
“It’s smaller than your closet.”
“Our closet.”
“Not currently.”
Jack winced.
“Fair.”
Grace handed him a plate.
They sat on the floor because she owned only two chairs and one held files.
Jack picked up a framed photograph from the shelf.
Grace and Emily at the beach.
“You kept this.”
“Of course.”
“I remember Emily throwing sand at me five minutes after this was taken.”
“You deserved it.”
“I said her hat was ridiculous.”
“It was her favorite hat.”
“It had plastic flamingos.”
“She was seventeen.”
“Exactly.”
Grace smiled.
Then Jack’s expression changed.
“What?”
“I forgot how much of your life existed before me.”
Grace looked at him carefully.
“That sounds dramatic.”
“It is.”
He put down the photograph.
“I think somewhere along the way I started acting like our life began when I entered it.”
Grace did not answer immediately.
“That’s true.”
Jack nodded.
No defense.
They ate quietly.
Later, while Grace washed dishes, Jack noticed a stack of documents.
WHITMORE ADVISORY LLC.
He froze.
Grace turned.
“What?”
“You started it.”
She followed his gaze.
“Oh.”
Her voice became cautious.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“What does it do?”
“Financial consulting for nonprofits that can’t afford full-time CFOs.”
Jack smiled.
Grace narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.”
“I’m trying not to say I told you your old plans were good.”
“You told me five years late.”
“Still technically correct.”
Grace threw a dish towel at him.
Jack caught it.
They both laughed.
Then he asked, “Can I hire you?”
“No.”
“Immediately rejected.”
“You’re exactly the client I don’t want.”
“I’m wealthy.”
“You’re controlling.”
“I’m recovering.”
“Still contraindicated.”
Jack placed a hand over his heart.
“Brutal.”
Grace watched him.
There was ease between them now.
But ease did not erase history.
That became clear on their fifth date.
Jack’s phone rang during dinner.
He looked at the screen.
Grace’s stomach tightened automatically.
He silenced it.
“You can answer.”
“No.”
“What if it’s important?”
“It’s Daniel.”
“That could be important.”
Jack turned the phone facedown.
“I’m having dinner with you.”
Grace stared at the phone.
Suddenly she could not breathe comfortably.
Jack noticed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Grace.”
She stood.
“I need air.”
Outside, she leaned against the brick wall.
Jack followed but stayed several feet away.
“Talk to me.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“I spent years wishing you would do exactly what you just did.”
His face fell.
“I know.”
“And now you did it, and I’m angry.”
“That makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It does.”
Grace looked at him.
“I hate that it takes effort now.”
Jack’s eyes filled with pain.
“You think it’s performance.”
“Sometimes.”
He nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“I don’t want to reward you for basic consideration.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t want every decent thing you do to remind me of every time you didn’t.”
Jack looked toward the street.
“What do you need?”
“I don’t know.”
He was quiet.
Then he took out his phone.
Grace frowned.
Jack called Daniel.
“Everything okay?”
Daniel’s voice was faint.
“Yeah. I wanted to ask about—”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
Jack ended the call.
Grace stared at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because ignoring him to prove something to you isn’t healthy either.”
Her expression shifted.
Jack continued.
“I’m not trying to turn into a man without a job. I’m trying to become a man who knows where his job belongs.”
Grace leaned against the wall.
“That sounded rehearsed.”
“It cost me four months of therapy.”
She laughed despite herself.
Jack stepped closer.
“Grace.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to fail sometimes.”
“I know.”
“I’ll miss a call I should take. Take a call I should miss. Say something stupid. Become obsessive during a deal.”
“Probably.”
“I need you to tell me.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“I did tell you.”
Jack closed his eyes.
The sentence struck him.
When he looked back at her, there was no defense.
“You did.”
Grace’s anger softened.
“I can tell you again,” she said. “But I won’t beg to be heard.”
“You won’t have to.”
“Don’t promise that.”
Jack nodded.
“Then I promise to notice faster.”
That she could believe.
They returned inside.
Dinner continued.
Two weeks later, Jack invited Grace somewhere unexpected.
His childhood house.
Not the mansion his father later lost.
The small brick home where Jack had lived until age ten.
He had purchased it years earlier through a holding company and never told anyone.
Grace stood on the sidewalk.
“You own this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him.
“That’s a lie.”
Jack sighed.
“I thought someday I might fix it.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The home was vacant.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Jack showed her his old bedroom.
A faded blue wall.
Scratches on the doorframe marking his height.
Grace touched one.
“Age nine?”
“Probably.”
They sat on the floor.
Jack told her everything Victoria had revealed.
His father.
The abuse.
The letters.
The misunderstanding.
Grace listened.
“You thought your mother left because the money disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“So you spent your entire life making sure nobody could ever leave for that reason.”
“Yes.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
“Jack.”
He looked down.
“I’m not telling you because it excuses anything.”
“I know.”
“I just finally understand why I panicked whenever you talked about work.”
Grace frowned.
“You never panicked.”
“I controlled.”
She went still.
Jack continued.
“If you worked, if you earned your own money, if you built your own thing, some part of me thought you might realize you didn’t need me.”
Grace stared.
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“I would have loved you anyway.”
“I know that now.”
She sat beside him.
“You made me dependent because you were afraid dependence was love.”
Jack nodded.
Grace took his hand.
It was the first time she initiated contact since leaving.
Jack looked at their hands.
Said nothing.
Grace rested her head against his shoulder.
They stayed there until sunset.
On the drive back, Jack asked, “Can I ask you something dangerous?”
“Depends.”
“Do you still love me?”
Grace watched streetlights slide across the windshield.
“Yes.”
Jack’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
“But,” she continued, “I don’t know whether love means we should stay married.”
His expression changed.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
Grace laughed softly.
“But I’m trying to.”
That weekend, something happened neither expected.
Emily called Grace at 2:00 a.m.
She was crying.
“Grace, I’m at Mount Sinai.”
Grace sat up.
“What happened?”
“It’s my heart.”
Grace went cold.
Emily’s surgery years earlier had corrected a congenital defect, but complications remained possible.
“I’m coming.”
Grace dressed while shaking.
Her rideshare app failed twice.
She called Naomi.
No answer.
She stared at Jack’s name.
Then pressed call.
He answered on the first ring.
“Grace?”
“Emily’s in the hospital.”
He was already moving.
“What hospital?”
“Mount Sinai.”
“I’m coming.”
“No drivers.”
“Grace, this is not the moment—”
“You.”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m on my way.”
Jack arrived twelve minutes later in sweatpants and a coat over a T-shirt.
Grace got into the car.
He did not ask questions.
He simply drove.
At the hospital, Emily was stable.
An arrhythmia.
Frightening but manageable.
Grace sat beside her bed until sunrise.
Jack remained in the hallway.
He did not enter until Emily asked for him.
“You look awful,” Emily said.
“So do you.”
“Good. Your personality survived therapy.”
Jack smiled.
Later, Grace found him sleeping upright in a plastic waiting-room chair.
His neck bent awkwardly.
Coffee untouched.
He had not tried to handle the doctors.
Had not called specialists.
Had not moved Emily to a private floor.
He had simply stayed.
Grace sat beside him.
Jack opened his eyes.
“She okay?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
Grace looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“For driving?”
“For not turning it into a Remington emergency response operation.”
“I considered it.”
“I know.”
Jack smiled.
Grace reached for his face.
He froze.
She kissed him.
Not a polite kiss.
Not memory.
Not gratitude.
A real kiss.
Jack’s hand moved toward her waist, then stopped.
Grace took his hand and placed it there.
The kiss deepened.
When they separated, both were breathing hard.
Jack looked stunned.
Grace whispered, “Don’t ruin it.”
“I was going to say nothing.”
“Excellent progress.”
He smiled.
And for the first time, Grace allowed herself to wonder whether she had not left her marriage.
Maybe she had left its old version.
Maybe something different was waiting.
But rebuilding love would become harder before it became easier.
Because three days later, Grace received an email containing photographs.
Jack.
Catherine.
May you like
A hotel.
And a date from six months before Grace ever left.
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