Coming Home to You (33 page)

The tenderness Jack was showing me in all of this was so unexpected, so needed, that I couldn’t seem to control the tears that were streaming from my eyes. But I still felt so stripped, so betrayed, so raw.

“Jack, I—” What could I say? I closed my eyes, suddenly realizing how exhausted I was. “I don’t think I can do this,” I murmured. “How can I do this? I feel like you know me, like you know all of me, and I don’t know anything about you anymore. I don’t know how to trust who you are—or who you’ve pretended to be.” I felt so very empty, a feeling I had hoped I’d never have again. But here it was. “You’re a stranger.”

The words sounded cold and final, and they sat heavily on the couch between us.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.” Jack’s eyes were sad, as he looked at me, and I could see in them the hope for mercy that would have reduced anyone to tears. It was all there, his own vulnerability in all of this, and I felt my defenses weaken. After all, did he not deserve the same compassion I would have wanted, to be shown the simple mercy of a second chance?

He rose to his feet in front of me and extended his hand.

“Hi. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Jack,” he said.

It was an olive branch, a plea for forgiveness and an attempt to start over. Completely over, on equal footing as two people who knew nothing about each other. Who had infinite possibilities and thousands of discoveries stretching out before them.

I looked at Jack’s hand for a long moment, knowing how important this moment was. It would mean the difference between giving up a man I had come to depend on, to feel something for, and giving him a chance. Giving
us
a chance.

It was my chance to show him mercy, but it was also making a choice that would happen often in any relationship that was worth fighting for. The choice to forgive.

I reached out and grasped it firmly in my own, rising to my feet.

Equal footing, I thought as I stood before him.

“Hi, Jack. I’m Zoë, it’s nice to meet you.”

Undisguised relief flashed across Jack’s face, his eyes glossy with the sheen of tears. His grip on my hand tightened, tender at the same time as it was strong.

“I was wondering,” he said in a whisper so quiet I had to strain to hear it. “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me?” A shy smile, so small it was almost imperceptible, tipped up the corners of his lips.

The question, had it been asked by another man to another woman, might have been a simple one.

I smiled back at Jack. “Yes,” I replied.

The answer, had it been given by another woman to another man, might have been a simple one. But for us, both the question and the answer meant everything.

Epilogue

I pressed the forward button on the camera, advancing to another picture I’d forgotten, one that put every painful moment I’d gone through in perspective. One that reminded me that sometimes, no matter how pointless something in life may seem at the moment, it can add up to change your life in ways that you never thought possible. To make you reach for the dreams you never imagined you’d even be able to touch, to hold something in your hand you never believed you would see. And while the pain seems arbitrary, sometimes it’s the only way to wake us up to how sweet a gift we are about to be given.

There were countless moments and hundreds of days between the two pictures, but they seemed to be memories from two different lives. I was no longer the same young woman who’d taken the picture of Paul in his moment of glory; it would have been impossible to remain unchanged in the wake of such loss.

To stop there, though, would seem to say that loss is the end, when there was still so much more to the story. More moments to live, more photographs to take, more memories to capture.

Here was a reminder of so many lessons, a moment captured forever—so sweet in its simplicity, yet so defining. A large picture window set in the brick façade of a cheery-looking store front, the glossy expanse of glass interrupted only by words carefully written in bright red lipstick. Words that changed the rest of my life.

Dear Zoë,

Will you marry me?

Love, Jack