When the Honeymoon Doesn’t Happen

“Are you’re capable of a deep, romantic relationship?” Henry asked me over drinks in a place I am really not supposed to be in — his city 1,000 miles away from mine.

I choked on the question.

Two days earlier I was supposed to be getting on a plane with my husband for our very delayed honeymoon. 12 hours before our flight my husband suggested we should get a divorce. I showed up the very place I shouldn’t be.

“I’d like to think I am”, I managed to blurt out.

There were less than a handful of people who knew I didn’t get on the plane — Henry, my husband and I accounted for most of them.

We both knew this shouldn’t be happening, just like we both knew that we couldn’t help falling in love with each other, “What do you really want? Do you want to stay married?”

“I want you to ask me to move here”, the most honest thing I ever said to Henry. Besides every time I tell him I love him when he brings me coffee.

“I can’t do that, you need to live your life. If you want to move that’s fine.”

“But I need you to ask me so I can.”

“I won’t ask.”

Years later I still know this was the most loving thing Henry ever did for me.

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