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Could I ever be in a relationship with passion and honesty, with a degree of loyalty I’d never felt from Portia? My loyalty had always been first to her, but hers had never wavered fro me a distant second It hadn’t struck ht I knew it meant ould never have been able to be true partners in our e

In the past year or two I’d coned to Portia as my lot simply because she carried so much of my history with hers But, despite my hesitation and oft-noted reserve, I was raised in a house of passion, and children, and the h I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger on spontaneity and wildness, I needed it around me in the passive way that we also need air, or warhts as I took the lift to our floor

It seeh she was placed in front of me at the perfect time Not necessarily so I could approach her roain perspective on how many different types of women were out there--and that they weren’t all like Portia

The process of splitting up a shared life with Portia into two separate ones was an excruciating, gradual process First, it was the flat: with almost no discussion, we’d decided it went to her Next, it was the car: also hers She kept the dog, the furniture, and a sizable portion of the savings I let it all go, strikingly unburdened

Portia wasMarried at nineteen, I’d believed in staying ht have been

It was simply that, one day, our misery reached a point where I could see no point to it

I couldn’t see her being passionate withsince taken on a sort of mechanical, transactional flavor There had been no mention of children in years and, to be fair, I was unable to i her children the way my mother had loved us: with enthusiastic kisses planted to our bellies and constant physical reminders of motherly adoration Now, ined a life with her: clean, cold, everything in its place

In the end, our divorce had started over so as innocuous as a rescheduled lunch I’d received notice of athat would run into the time ere meant to arrive at the restaurant midday Portia often worked from home, but an hour of flexibility turned out to be too much to ask

"Do you ever consider my day?" she asked "Do you ever consider what I put aside to spend tiht back to the romantic holidays she’d canceled, and the anniversary dinners she had ot or, once, extended her girls’ holiday for another week si too much fun to come home

"I endeavor to," I told her

"But you fail, Niall And, honestly, I’ Portia, she needed to have the last word And in that moment, with a sharp clarity I hadn’t expected, I was fine with that as the last word I simply wanted out

"I understand, Portia You can only do so iven name; I’d only ever called her "Love," for years "That’s just it," she said wearily "Niall I’ht of all this, as well"

All this, she said, e

She looked up atacross my face, downin the pockets ofthat, when she looked atme to someone else Someone more posh, less tall, more American, less patient with her