The music upstairs had stopped. The house was so quiet Eric could hear the clock over the stove, the one shaped like a rooster that Lily had picked out at a garage sale, ticking.
"Did you love him?" he asked.
"No," she said. "Not the way you mean. I loved you. I chose you. I'd choose you again."
"You didn't choose me," Eric said. "You chose for me. That's different."
She had nothing to say to that, and he could see in her face that she knew it was true.
He stood up. His knees ached. He felt as if he had been sitting there for days.
"I'm going to sleep in the guest room," he said. "I'm not leaving. I'm not… I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm going to sleep in the guest room."