Chapter 2 - The Rules Between Us
Roman didn’t tell me to pack.
He didn’t send a car.
For three seconds, all I heard was his breathing.
Then he asked, “Are you somewhere you feel safe?”
“June’s here.”
“May Elias speak with you about preserving the message?”
“Yes. But you’re staying on the call.”
“I’m here.”
Elias asked me to keep the original photograph and message. June helped me make copies while I contacted the police through their regular reporting number.
There was no immediate danger visible outside.
That didn’t make the photograph harmless.
An officer took the information, explained what could be documented, and advised me to report any further contact. June stayed beside me, one hand resting near mine without closing around it.
When Roman spoke again, his voice was controlled.
“The security firm should have stopped all observation when you left.”
“Should have?”
“I told Victor to locate you. After Margaret delivered your separation letter, I instructed him to stop.”
Victor Hale.
Roman’s security director.
A man who always stood slightly too close to me when explaining why something I wanted was impossible.
“You hired someone to find me.”
“Yes.”
“Then Elias wasn’t lying. Nobody followed me today. They followed me before.”
Roman didn’t defend the distinction.
“Yes.”
I stood so abruptly that my chair scraped the floor.
“You heard everything I said in that examination room, and there was still more.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I authorized something you had explicitly asked me not to do. I’m telling you because you deserve the truth.”
June watched me carefully.
I wanted to hang up.
I also wanted answers.
“Who had access to my location?”
“Victor. Possibly members of his team. I’m contacting independent counsel to preserve the records.”
“Not the family lawyer.”
“No.”
“And not someone your aunt recommends.”
A pause.
Then, “Agreed.”
Celeste Dacre had managed Roman’s father’s household before she began managing everyone’s lives.
She sent flowers with handwritten notes. She remembered which senator preferred which wine. She could insult a woman’s upbringing while complimenting her dress.
When I left, she told me I was abandoning a disabled man.
I had never forgiven her for turning Roman’s blindness into a weapon against both of us.
The next afternoon, we met in June’s bookstore before opening.
My choice.
Roman arrived with Elias and waited outside until June unlocked the door.
He asked where the chair was.
I told him.
He found it with his cane, folded the cane beside him, and sat without trying to reach for me.
For a moment, I remembered our first date.
He had listened then, too.
Or perhaps listening had been easier when there was nothing he feared losing.
“I dismissed Victor from active duty pending an independent review,” he said.
“What does that mean for his access?”
“Revoked. Building systems, accounts, staff directories. The records are being preserved.”
“Does he know where I live?”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
It also mattered.
“I won’t pretend removing his access changes what he already knows,” Roman continued. “The police have his name. So does the investigator my new attorney retained.”
I wrapped both hands around my tea.
“And Celeste?”
“She says she knows nothing about the photograph.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I’m not accepting anyone’s assurance in place of checking.”
He sounded tired.
For years, I would have moved toward that sound automatically.
This time, I stayed in my chair.
“I wrote down what I need,” I said.
“Will you read it?”
I did.
No location tracking.
No unauthorized contact with my doctor, employer, landlord, or friends.
No financial gifts with hidden conditions.
No arriving unannounced.
No using the babies to force discussions about our marriage.
Medical appointments only by invitation.
Emergency information shared through a process we both agreed to.
Roman listened to every line.
Then he asked, “Can we put it in writing?”
I blinked.
“You want that?”
“I want you to have something more useful than my intention.”
June looked down at her coffee.
I knew she was hiding surprise.
“There’s one more thing,” I said.
“Yes?”
“If you want a chance at being my husband again, you need help that I cannot give you.”
His hand tightened against his knee.
For a moment, I saw the resistance.
Then he nodded.
“I’ve made an appointment.”
“With whom?”
“A therapist who works with trauma. My rehabilitation specialist referred me.”
“That doesn’t guarantee anything.”
“I know.”
Outside, someone rattled the bookstore door.
Opening time.
Roman stood.
“May I ask about the babies?”
I pressed my palm against my stomach.
“They’re doing well.”
His face softened.
“Thank you for telling me.”
After he left, June turned the sign to OPEN.
“Well?” she asked.
May you like
I watched his car pull away.
“For once,” I said, “he left when the conversation was over.”
