“And I was trying to make it work with you.”
He looked toward the guests.
“Maybe we should leave.”
But Elena did not move.
For the first time in fifteen years, she was being forced to look at the consequences of the choice she had made without anyone standing between her and the truth.
She turned toward me.
“David.”
I waited.
Her eyes were red, and her voice trembled.
“I didn’t know.”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“You didn’t know what Julian was telling you. You didn’t know how the girls were growing up. You didn’t know what they were struggling with.”
I paused.
“But you knew where you left them.”
She began to cry.
“You have to understand. I was afraid. I thought you would never forgive me.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have.”
She looked up.
“But you never gave me the chance to decide,” I continued. “You never called. You never wrote. You never came to the door. You made a decision, and then you spent fifteen years explaining why you couldn’t change it.”
