Chapter 11 - The Marriage Between Two Versions of the TruthOn Thursday, October 22, Grant asked Maren to meet him at a café halfway between their apartment and her mother's house.
She agreed on one condition.
"No surprises."
Grant arrived ten minutes early.
When Maren entered, he stood automatically.
For an instant, seeing him across the table caused a painful rush of familiarity.
He was still the man who had once driven forty miles in a snowstorm because she wanted her favorite strawberry ice cream.
The man who had stayed awake with her when her father died in a dream and she woke crying.
The man who painted their daughter's nursery a pale green because Maren said every baby room didn't have to be pink.
None of those memories had disappeared.
That made the betrayal harder.
Grant pulled out her chair.
"How are you feeling?"
"Physically? Fine."
"And the baby?"
"Active."
He smiled faintly.
Then his expression tightened.
"I miss you."
Maren looked at him.
"I miss who I thought you were."
The words hurt him.
She could see that.
But she did not take them back.
Grant sat opposite her.
"I spoke with Dad. He thinks the foundation documents need an independent review."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"That's a start."
He took a breath.
"There's something I need to explain about the release."
Maren waited.
"In March, Calvin showed me a package of revised project documents. Mom said the consultants had already approved the changes."
"And you saw my signature."
"Yes."
"Did you recognize it?"
"I knew it looked like yours."
"Did you ask me whether I'd signed?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Mom said the paperwork had already been handled."
Maren stared at him.
"That's not an answer."
Grant looked down.
"Because I knew you'd ask questions."
Silence stretched between them.
Outside, pedestrians crossed beneath a gray sky.
Inside, the coffee machine hissed.
Maren pressed her palms against the table.
"You knew I would object."
"I suspected."
"And you let them use my name anyway."
"I thought the changes were temporary."
"Temporary fraud is still fraud, Grant."
His expression hardened.
"I'm trying to explain."
"And I'm listening."
He leaned back.
"I didn't know they were discussing a sale when I signed the memorandum."
Maren studied him.
"Do you know now?"
"Yes."
"Then what are you going to do?"
He hesitated.
That was enough.
"Your mother wants your vote."
Grant looked startled.
"Who told you?"
"Does it matter?"
"I haven't decided."
Maren's eyes filled.
She blinked the tears away.
"Grant, our marriage isn't a board meeting."
"I know."
"No, you don't. You still think you can keep me happy, keep your mother happy, and avoid choosing what kind of man you want to be."
He looked away.
She waited until he faced her again.
"I don't need you to choose me because I'm your wife," she said. "I need you to choose the truth because it's the truth."
He swallowed.
"Mom could lose everything."
"And what will the women who donated to Juniper House lose?"
He frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Money intended for housing. A building that was supposed to be open. A promise made to families who needed help."
Grant rubbed his face.
"Things aren't that simple."
Maren felt a sharp, familiar ache.
"It's complicated," she said.
He looked up.
"What?"
"That's what you always tell me. But I've discovered that complicated usually means you don't want me to know enough to disagree."
He fell silent.
Maren opened her bag and removed a photocopy of the false consultant release.
She laid it between them.
"Do you remember our wedding vows?"
Grant frowned.
"Of course."
"What did you promise?"
"To love you. To respect you."
"And to tell me the truth."
He looked at the document.
"Yes."
She moved the paper closer.
"You knew this wasn't mine."
Grant said nothing.
"Did you ever intend to tell me?"
His eyes reddened.
"I hoped it would never matter."
That answer finally broke something Maren had been trying to preserve.
She looked out the window.
For months she had blamed Darlene for intruding into their lives.
Darlene was domineering, manipulative, and accustomed to getting her way.
But Darlene was not married to her.
Grant was.
And Grant had made his own choices.
"I'm going back to my mother's house," she said.
"Maren, please."
"I'll speak with my family-law attorney next week."
He stared at her.
"Are you leaving me?"
"I haven't decided what happens to our marriage."
"But you're talking to a divorce lawyer."
"I'm talking to someone who can explain my options."
His hands tightened.
"What about our daughter?"
Maren felt the baby move.
She placed one hand over her stomach.
"She's not a bargaining chip."
"I didn't say she was."
"Then don't speak as if she's something you're about to lose in a negotiation."
Grant's face collapsed.
For a moment, she wanted to reach across the table and comfort him.
She didn't.
He needed to experience what his choices had cost.
As she stood, Grant said, "I can tell my mother to stop using the name."
Maren turned.
"You should have done that at the party."
She walked away.
That evening, a message arrived from Grant.
I've told Calvin I will not approve any document based on your signature.
May you like
A second message followed.
But you need to know something. Mom says there are documents carrying my signature that could destroy me too.
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