He gave a bitter laugh.
“I convinced myself that meant I had found something better.”
I listened without interrupting.
“I know that doesn’t excuse anything,” he added.
“No, it doesn’t.”
He nodded.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“That’s probably wise.”
For a moment, the old Tyler appeared. The man who would have smiled at my bluntness, shaken his head, and told me I was impossible.
But that version of our relationship was gone.
He looked out the window.
“I keep thinking about the house.”
I felt my shoulders tense.
“What about it?”
“I shouldn’t have promised it to Rachel.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I know that now.”
I held his gaze.
“You knew it then, Tyler. You simply believed I would eventually agree because you wanted me to.”
He lowered his eyes.
Perhaps he had finally begun to understand the difference between regret and responsibility.
We finished our coffee and discussed the remaining practical matters.
