I’ve thought about this moment.
Thought about the next time I’d see her.
In my daytime fantasies, my ex-wife is haggard, unemployed, and has lots of cats. All of which she’s named after me.
In my nighttime fantasies, the ones I can’t control, well . . . those feature a different Katherine entirely, and I pretend they don’t happen.
Mostly, though, I’ve always figured that if and when our reunion were to ever happen, I’d simply . . . bump into her.
We may live in a big city, but it’s still the same city. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that we could run into each other at a friend’s cocktail party. Or one of the restaurants we both used to love.
Hell, just this afternoon I passed directly by her office.
But in all the scenarios I was braced for, both the feasible and the outlandish, never did I ever imagine that the next time I’d lock eyes on the woman who nearly destroyed me would be . . .
This.
Katherine is . . . Katherine . . .
Well, she looks terrible.
Her eyes are glassy, her long dark hair matted, and there’s a gash on her forehead. The frumpy hospital gown is a far cry from the smart, expensive black blazers she buys from Saks by the half dozen.
In fact, she’s alarmingly close to my daytime fantasy Katherine, minus the cats.
But instead of feeling the expected sense of smugness at seeing a chink in her prickly armor, I feel something puzzlingly close to worry.
What’s ironic is that toward the end of our marriage, I begged the universe to make her somehow seem more human. To give her even a sliver of vulnerability, so that I knew I had a fighting chance. To show that she needed me.
The universe has finally provided.
And it could not be at a worse time.
To balance out the unwanted emotion of caring, I give Katherine a slow, deliberate once-over. “Nice outfit.”
“Ugh,” she utters with feeling. “You’re even less funny than I remember.”
I widen my grin. “Ah, but see . . . you do remember.”
Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here?” Her brown gaze drops to my suitcase. “Oh, no. Tom. Are you . . . homeless?”
And just like that, any worry I felt for this woman fades.
She’s fine.
“You poor thing. Are you hungry?” she says in syrupy concern. “This nice lady was just about to bring me some Jell-O. I’m sure she can scrounge up an extra.”
The nurse opens her mouth as though to argue, then shrugs. “I can, actually. What flavor? I like blue.”
“Settled. Two blues,” Katherine says. “But his is a to-go order. Bye, Tom!” She gives an insulting little wave.
I clench my teeth, trying to keep my temper in check. I don’t even really have a temper. At least not one that I admit to.
But there are exceptions.
Just the one exception, actually. Her.
“I’m not homeless. I was on my way to the airport,” I say in a level voice. Then, I can’t resist adding, “Obviously. It’s Christmas.”
Katherine’s eyes go wide. “What? Christmas, you say?! Why did nobody tell me? Where were all the signs? That holiday’s just so subtle, isn’t it?”
I scratch my temple. “Look, Katie. You’re obviously alive and feeling like your usual self. So if you’re good, I’m gonna jet.”
“Wow, I believe that marks the second time ever we’ve actually agreed on something.”
I shouldn’t ask. I know I shouldn’t, but I take the bait anyway. “What was the first?”
Her gaze is steady. “When we agreed to sign divorce papers.”
Right. That.
“Yeah, so I’m gonna go,” the nurse says, jerking her thumb toward the exit as she’s already edging out of the room. “The doctor will be in soon with an update. Push the button again if you want the Jell-O. Just push it once,” she adds, looking pointedly at Katherine.
“Bring my phone!” Katherine calls after her. “Please?”
The nurse doesn’t reply or even look back, and I’m itching to follow her lead and escape, but for some reason, my feet don’t move.
“Ma’am?” Katherine calls after the nurse. “Did you hear me?”
I’m not at all surprised when the nurse doesn’t exactly come rushing back to do Katherine’s bidding, and apparently Katherine isn’t either because she heaves out a resigned sigh. “I should have called her miss.”
I press my lips together to hide an unwanted smile, wondering if Katherine remembers that my mother taught her that trick.
I look over my shoulder, feeling the distinct urge to take a note from the nurse’s playbook. Walk away. Don’t look back.
Still, my feet don’t move.
The urge to flee is strong. But the tingling feeling in my hands when I got that phone call that is just now starting to subside? That’s stronger.
“There’s been an accident.”
For a moment there, I feared the worst, and my whole world seemed to stop. Do I miss Katherine? Not exactly. The woman is hell on the nerves.
But a world without her in it? The ache in my chest tells me I’m not ready for that.
Katherine is studying me with that steady gaze of hers that always seems to see way too much. More than I want her to see.
“What the hell are you doing here, Tom?”
There, that’s better. Keep that up, and I might have a sliver of a chance of making my flight.
Not much of a chance. But my prayers about the delay came true, and if I leave now, maybe . . .
But I can’t seem to stop looking at the IV in the back of her hand. Or hearing the subtly malicious beep of the hospital machines. Or noticing that her barbs seem just a little bit duller than they used to be.
I try a smile. “I don’t suppose you’d believe that I was just in the neighborhood?”
Katherine doesn’t smile back. My usual brand of charm doesn’t work with her. Never has.
I sigh and let the smile drop, a little surprised at what a relief it is to do so. I never had to pretend with Katherine.
“Your office called me,” I explain, setting my briefcase atop my roller suitcase to give my shoulder a break. I cross my arms. “Apparently, I’m still listed as your emergency contact.”
I’m about to ask if the oversight was her way of torturing me, but I can tell by the too-fast flutter of her eyelashes and lack of snarky rejoinder that this revelation catches her off guard.
“You didn’t know?” I ask. “That you’d forgotten to make the change?”
“No, Tom, I didn’t know.” She lifts a hand to her forehead, then winces. “Sorry to bust your little fantasy that I was manufacturing a reason to see you again.”
“Huh.” That Katherine missed something is . . . interesting. A missed birthday? Anniversary? Scheduled date night? Those details I can see Katherine forgetting. I’ve experienced them firsthand.
But when it comes to anything related to her work, there’s no t she won’t cross, no i she doesn’t carefully dot.
Katherine’s face is scrunched in concentration. “Okay. I can maybe see why they called you. What I don’t understand is why you actually came.”
“Believe me,” I mutter. “Been asking myself the same question.”