Two Halves or a Whole?

Author's Note: This story is a second part of the Gwyn and Pete saga. Part one is A Mighty Pen.

* * * * *

"Is this going anywhere, Pete?"

"This?"

"Us. Our relationship." Laura sat across from him at the bistro that had become their place.

He recognized the talk again. You'd think with all of his practice he'd be better at it by now.

"I like spending time with you, Laura. I like you a lot. Really."

"Then why aren't we in your condo? Or mine? We've been dating for six weeks. I know the menu here by heart, and I've only been here with you. But you've never come in when I've invited you, and I don't even know which unit is yours at your building."

Pete nodded and pursed his lips. He started to say something, then stopped. He looked into her china-blue eyes, then dropped his gaze to the table. He sighed. He felt her soft fingers at his temple. They trailed down his cheek to his chin.

"Someone really did a number on you, didn't they?" she said quietly.

He tried to breathe evenly, slowly in, slowly out. Mack had taught him a few different tricks to keep his composure under emotional duress, but the breathing worked best.

"I'm sorry, Laura. I have some baggage."

Laura's laugh was usually a melodic lilt, but this one came out as a snort. "I gathered. Look, I really like you too, Pete. You're very sweet, super thoughtful, and if you ate a little more you'd really fill out your suits nicely. But unless you let me in, I think we've gone about as far as we can go."

Pete nodded. "You deserve better."

"You are better, Pete. But a relationship needs two people in it. Can you at least tell me who she was?"

He flinched, but thought he caught himself before she noticed. Nope.

"Wow. That bad?"

"I'm, uh, I'm seeing someone." He caught her confused look. "No! Not like that. I mean a therapist. I'm seeing a therapist."

"That seems like a good idea," Laura said in a neutral voice. She liked Pete, and he'd obviously been treated badly in a prior relationship, but this lift might be too heavy for her. She was 27, and she wanted a husband and a family relatively soon, and this sweet and attractive but very reserved man had seemed like a prime candidate. At first she thought he was just shy, but now she could see he was damaged. She didn't have time for a long fix. "How long have you been seeing him? Or her?"

"Him. A while. Almost a year."

Okay. Laura stood, and Pete started to stand with her. "No, Pete -- finish your meal. I can see myself home. If you get it figured out, please give me a call. I do really like you. Once you get past your pain, you'll be an incredible catch."

He sighed and nodded. He felt deflated, of course, but not really hurt or sad. The outcome seemed inevitable. Six weeks was probably the outer limit of a relationship with him as he was.

At least the sole was tasty.

* * * * *

Gwyn strode into the restaurant. She walked with purpose. Decisive. Determined. Her cousin Jenny and Jenny's purported boyfriend Mutt were already seated. Most of their friends thought Jenny and Mutt had been dating for more than four years. No one was really sure when they started, and they didn't share any information about their relationship. They were usually together, and even though they kept their own apartments people assumed that they were a couple.

"Hey, guys," Gwyn said, sliding into the booth next to Jenny. "What's new?"

"Hi, Gwyn," Jenny replied. "You look great! Still punishing yourself at the gym?"

"Every day." Gwyn was a curvy brunette, and in her earlier 20's those curves had been soft and pliant. Her hips were still wide and her breasts were still full, but her whole body was now fit, tight, and cut. Her face showed defined cheekbones, her neck was thin and elegant, and her graceful collarbones stood out under the open collar of her blouse. "Did you order yet?"

"Just got here." Almost as bidden, a waiter appeared next to their table.

"Good evening. I'm Aaden, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Are you waiting for anyone else to join you?"

"It's just us, Aaden," Gwyn said, smiling. Turning to Jenny and Mutt, she added, "Drinks?"

"I'd like a vodka and tonic with lime, please," Jenny said to the waiter.

"Bent Hop Golden," Mutt said.

"And I'll have club soda with lime," Gwyn said.

"So what's up with my favorite couple?" Gwyn asked after Aaden slipped away, raising her eyebrows at Jenny.

Jenny didn't take the bait. "Just starting on my gerontological certification. It's supposed to take 32 hours total, but that's for speed-readers, so I figure it will take me longer. Like maybe six years."

Mutt's laugh burst out of him, which made Jenny grin and blush.

"You guys are so cute," Gwyn said. "And while Jenny is earning her six-year certification in gerontological nursing, what are doing, Mr. Paul?"

Paul was Mutt's given name, but with a twin brother named Jeff his nickname was inevitable.

"Same ol', same ol'."

"So mysterious!" Gwyn exclaimed.

Mutt smiled and shrugged. "I can bore people faster than anyone I know." He ran the back-office operations of a regional wealth management firm. He liked it, and he was good at it, but no one else found his work to be the least bit interesting. The wealth part intrigued them, but the management part, tracking and reporting on investments and maintaining client accounts, had them quickly looking elsewhere for conversation.

"What's new with you, girl?" Jenny asked. "Any new men in your life?"

Gwyn smiled. She dated rarely, and never seriously, but she didn't share that with anyone but Frida. "No one worth mentioning. Still trying them on, looking for the needle in the haystack."

"'Trying them on' trying them on?" Jenny asked, wiggling her eyebrows and cocking her head, which made Gwyn laugh. Mutt was looking at her with more interest too.

"Get your minds out of the gutter. There will be none of that until I know if they're decent guys."

"And?"

"None on the horizon." She indicated Mutt with a sideways nod and smiled. "All the good ones are taken."

Jenny smiled too and patted Mutt's arm. "You know there's not a perfect man out there, sweetie. This one still pisses me off sometimes."

Gwyn sighed. "We all know there is one perfect man out there."

* * * * *

Mack's office was comfortable, and Pete had been there so often anyway he felt at ease. As always, he chose the sofa.

"So?" Mack asked when Pete was hesitant to start.

"Laura and I aren't seeing each other any more. She got frustrated with my lack of openness."

"Do you feel that's fair?"

Pete scoffed. "Oh, yeah. You said it three months ago: I'm stuck." He ran his hands over his face and let out a long sigh.

"Did you try what we've talked about? Sharing small personal facts, things that are important to you but not too vulnerable? Telling her a little about your family, growing up where you did, things like that? Did you ask her about her schools and friends and family? Build up slowly from a modest base?"

"No. I really never felt comfortable bringing personal stuff up. Maybe she and I just didn't click, and I kinda knew it instinctively."

"You've said the same about Justine, Geri, Vi, Charlotte, and now Laura. Do you really believe that not even one of those women -- women you were attracted to -- were interesting enough to explore a deeper connection?"

"I know it's me. I just don't know how to go forward with dates. I mean, the rest of my life is going fine. I'm killing it on the job. I've got volleyball on Tuesdays. I bike on the weekends. I go out after work for happy hour a few times a month. But I just can't do the one-on-one thing."

"We've talked about a lot of different approaches to get you unstuck, and so far you haven't been able to execute on any. Have you thought any more about talking to Gwyn?"

Pete hissed as he inhaled quickly, then shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever be able to do that."

"Why not?"

"That wound will never heal. Poking at it just hurts."

"What's the worse that can happen?"

Pete leaned forward and thought for a moment. "It just might kill me."

"Talking to Gwyn might be traumatic. It might tear the scab off a very deep wound. It might feel really unpleasant." Mack hesitated until Pete met his eyes. "But it might help you move on too. It might be what you need to put this betrayal behind you. You have been hurt very deeply by someone who you trusted never to hurt you. But you've never told her that, you've never expressed how her actions made you feel. That alone can be healing. And it might let you put your marriage behind you so you can move forward with new relationships."

"There has to be a better way."

Like swimming in a vat of battery acid.

* * * * *

Night bothered Gwyn the most. During the day she could move. She'd always liked motion, things happening, doing things. She loved talking to people, meeting new people, reconnecting with people she'd met, helping people, working with people to solve problems. But at the end of every day she still had to come home to her apartment, where she would be alone. Just her.

While the divorce was going on, she kept in frenetic motion, even when she was alone. She tried everything she could to get Pete to talk to her, but he wouldn't. Even in counseling she'd pour out her soul, beg for him to hear her, but he was resolute. His body showed up, but his mind was far, far away. Not just his mind though, his soul, his consciousness. He seemed vacant. She had wronged him, without a doubt, but he wouldn't listen to her. Not for a single moment. The one person who could lessen her pain refused to even consider it, and that hurt even more. The day she was served the divorce papers felt like the worst day of her life.

Except that it wasn't. The eight months that followed the decree were a blur of drinking way too much, imposing on friendships with crying confessions, agonizing recriminations, and vitriolic outbursts. Her remorse was unrelenting, punishing. She didn't remember much of that time, except that her friends put up with her dramatics, soothed her pain, and protected her vulnerability. Some felt a bit guilty themselves, but they repaid her for their supposed sins many times over. Her friends were saints.

As she came out of the post-divorce fog, with the encouragement of her friends, she found a therapist who helped her find ownership of her actions -- past, present, and future -- and find acceptance of what she'd done, not just to Pete, but to herself as well. Frida had been a godsend. She demanded truth, but helped Gwyn locate her compassion again. And then use it. She helped Gwyn get back to functioning again, almost like she used to. Almost.

But night was still hard. In the quiet of her apartment at night, Gwyn had to face what she'd done to her husband on what was truly the worst day of her life. And every night she fought, not to forgive herself, but to accept what she'd done. And to think of how she could atone.

Night was very hard.

* * * * *

"Your father will only turn 55 once, and I want all of his kids to be there."

"You mean both of us."

"And Luke's girls. You know they love to see their uncle too."

"I don't know, Mom. Of course I want to be there. It's just hard to get away."

"Oh, don't give me that nonsense, Peter Andrew -- it's Labor Day weekend, and even hotshot consultants get the holiday off." She knew exactly why Pete didn't want to come home. They'd had the same conversation for every holiday since Pete moved away, and while a.300 batting average was fine for baseball it felt anemic for family gatherings. "Come home, Pete. Just for the weekend. We miss you."

Pete squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "All right. But don't tell anyone I'm going to be there. Please keep it a surprise."

They both knew what he meant.

* * * * *

There was no end-of-summer lake blowout planned. People still went up to the lake, but only with family, and the trips were relaxing, subdued. Jenny's family didn't have a lake cottage, and she wouldn't go with Mutt when his family made the trip. Bad juju that.

Gwyn answered her cell when she saw who was calling. "Hi, Jen. What's up?"

"Got anything going on this weekend?"

"Not a thing. Everyone I know is headed out of town."

"Not everyone. I'm around. Girls weekend?"

"Of course! Masu tonight for sushi?"

"Great start. Seven?"

"See you there!"

* * * * *

Pete's flight was, of course, late. Two hours late.

He purposely rented a car for this long weekend, since there was no way he was going to be captive to his parents or his brother for rides. He wanted a clean escape in place. He hadn't eaten in hours, but then he'd picked up an hour with the time change, so it was just after eight when he got in a blue Hyundai Sonata and headed for his parents' house. Plenty of time to grab something on the way.

He called up the app for Masu and put in an order for a dragon roll, spicy tuna roll, and a side of fried spring rolls. The time estimate showed he might have to wait a few minutes, but he was okay with that. Less time for the family inquisition was never a bad thing.

* * * * *

"These crunchy salmon things are the best!"

"Right? The jalapeno is a nice touch. Totally makes it."

Gwyn and Jenny were working through three rolls and some hot edamame. The restaurant was nearly full, but there were a couple open tables, which was surprising for a Friday night. But maybe not for a holiday weekend.

Their table was near the back, away from the door and the counter, and they sat facing each other. While Gwyn was negotiating a slice of their Dynamite roll, Jenny noticed a man out of the corner of her eye. He was thumbing the screen of his cell as he stood off to the side, waiting for an order to go. Jenny's eyes went wide and she inhaled sharply.

"Jen? You okay, girl? Too much jalapeno?"

Jenny didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she should call Gwyn's attention to him or try to distract her. Gwyn was her cousin, and they had become even closer in the last few years. She knew how painful Gwyn's journey had been, and she was proud and impressed that Gwyn had come so far. But she also knew of Gwyn's regret and the burning wish she kept. So she blew out her breath and reached across the table to take Gwyn's hands.

Gwyn's eyes were searching Jenny's for some sign. Jenny was clearly upset, and Gwyn owed her cousin so much for her support during the past couple years. She would be there for Jenny, no matter what.

"Jen? Talk to me, sweetie."

"Pete's here."

Gwyn couldn't have been more shocked if Jenny had slapped her hard across her face. Twice. She whipped her head to the door, and sure enough, there was her husband. Her ex-husband. Standing straight like he always did, his weight distributed evenly on both legs, intent on his phone. Her heart squeezed itself, hard, and tears rushed to her eyes. She did not turn away. She had earned every drop of this agony, and she would accept it all. With interest if she had to.

She was overcome with joy at seeing him. Pete. Here. She was surprised the beam of love that shot from her didn't knock him off his feet. It felt so powerful, radiating, pulsing across the room. Even as her heart thrashed about in pain, she felt giddy with excitement. She was devastated. She was elated.

Pete's hair was the same as always, medium brown, short on the sides and back and a little curly on top. He wore a long-sleeve t-shirt, heather gray, the sleeves pulled up his forearms because he didn't like anything around his wrists. Outdoor pants, navy blue, lightweight and breathable, easy to clean, and deck shoes without socks. He looked solemn, like he always looked when he was concentrating on something. His face was smooth. He didn't like facial hair, so he shaved every day.

She knew him so well. She missed him so much.

She studied him, starved, her eyes devouring his details, gorging herself while she could. He looked thinner, but it didn't look right on him. His mouth was hard, tense, grinding. His eyes that focused on the phone had no light, no play, no mirth. And then his eyes came up off his phone, but not to look at Gwyn, instead to a woman behind the counter who handed him a brown paper bag folded and stapled at the top. And instead of flashing his usual bright, happy smile of thanks he simply nodded to her. He took the bag, tucked his phone into his front pocket, and slipped out the door into the night.

Gwyn's tears burst forth with a sob, and Jenny was beside her in a flash, holding her, soothing her with words and touch. It took only a few minutes for Gwyn to regain her composure, which thrilled Jenny. Two years ago Gwyn would have been a mess for the entire weekend. And probably the following week too. The women went to the bathroom together, so Gwyn could clean her face, then returned to finish their meal. Jenny waited for Gwyn to start the conversation.

"Didn't expect that when I woke up this morning," she finally said. Jenny laughed with relief.

"Pete is the absolute last person I'd have guessed we'd run into tonight. Are you okay, Gwyn?"

"Yeah. I am. I really am. I mean, I'm completely in pieces, but I felt so happy to see him too. It was like part of me was cut to the quick, but another part of me was so thankful he was standing there. It tore me apart, but it also felt like it stitched me up too. I don't know what I'd have done if he'd seen me, but me seeing him? It just felt good."

Jenny smiled. "He looks the same. Same old Pete."

"No, he's different," Gwyn said, shaking her head slowly. "I mean, he does look almost the same. I think he's had those clothes since before I met him. But he looks... I don't know, a little brittle maybe. There's something off, like he's gone deep inside himself. Or maybe gone away from himself. But he's not the same old Pete."

"Do you think he's moved back?"

"I don't know. I hope so, but I kinda doubt it. I haven't ever asked you, but do you talk to him at all?"

Jenny shook her head. "I've tried. He won't answer if I call him, but he'll text back if I text him. But he only responds to what I ask him, he never asks me about anything, and he never texts me first. I haven't heard from him since I wished him a happy birthday."

"Can you text him now?"

"Why?" Jenny searched Gwyn's eyes. She didn't want Gwyn to undo a couple years of progress.

"I need to see him again. I want to talk to him. Please, Jen."

"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetie. I don't want you to be hurt again."

"I won't be hurt again. I mean, maybe I will. I probably will. But it's okay. I just want to talk to him. Even for a minute."

"Let's not jump into that. You don't know how he feels either. He still might be pissed at you."

"I'm still pissed at me. But I see what you're saying. Tell you what -- text him and say you saw him here tonight, and that you're wondering what he's doing in town. That will give us some clue as to what's happening."

Jenny smiled. That seemed safe. "Okay. Let's do that."

* * * * *

The text came just as his mother opened the door and opened her arms for a hug. She held her son tightly, rocked him side-to-side for a few beats then stepped back for an apprising look.

"Don't you eat when you're away from home?"

Pete smirked. The hug for love, the teasing to keep him humble. Family code. He was definitely home.

"I've been dieting so I can load up on Dad's dime while I'm here."

"I heard that," his father said from down the hall. He walked up to Pete and grabbed him for a quick hug, complete with two slaps on the back. "Doesn't that fancy-pants company pay you? Good thing we've got the Sam's Club membership."

"Well, I wasn't sure if I was ever going to get here, so I stopped for sushi along the way. Care to join me?"