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She ran her fingers through her hair, and even from a distance, he noticed her hand trembled a bit. “Because when we met, you were the bright, successful doctor who’d make any of my friends jealous. And you wanted was a well-bred, suitable wife. Would you have stuck with me if you knew I was damaged goods?”
“Violet, of course. You can’t think I’m that superficial.”
“You’re right. Perhaps our marriage became superficial, which suited us both.”
He nodded. The anger toward her remained, but the frustration dissipated a bit, slowly. He gazed at her, and the pain in the depths of her baby blues was real. He’d never seen his reserved wife so vulnerable.
“I don’t want to be superficial anymore. I’ve been working on myself, and I want to be able to share my story, my feelings,” she said.
I’ve been working on myself too, he thought inwardly, remembering the conversations he’d shared with Brit. “Good.”
She tentatively touched his arm, and peered up at him. “I know I can’t ask for your forgiveness now. But maybe we can try to be real husband and wife again? To give the kids their family back?”
