COMING SOON
Release date October 10,
2024
Sarah Glasser has always been a good girl. striving for perfection in her life with her financial adviser husband, Adam, and their two boys. A good mother: she volunteers at the school library. A good wife: she runs their household with precision. She even mails out Christmas cards to all her husband's clients.
When Adam comes home one night, hours late from a business meeting, drunk and agitated and asking for a divorce, Sarah is shaken and frightened by thoughts of an unknown life so altered from the one she has carefully cultivated. This incident sets the stage for all that follows: stormy arguments, Adam's binge-drinking, and his purposeful absences from family obligations and social gatherings — to Sarah's eventual, rebellious, slow-burn affair with Troy Middleton, the contractor renovating their Victorian house.
While the collapse of a marriage is a tried-and-true plot, the characters in AN UNFINISHED MARRIAGE are complex and relatable, with humor lightening the drama and propelling the novel forward. The layers of the story peel away to reveal familiar feelings of devotion, betrayal, selfishness, and the complicated love between women and men, parents and children, and friends who sometimes become enemies.
FROM THE NOVEL:
Once we’re down in the den, Adam switches on the lamp beside the couch. The room smells like the new varnish and wallpaper paste from the recent remodel, all mixed together with the complicated, musty, hundred-year-old-house smell.
He waves me over to the couch, then begins to pace in front of me, the same steps I’ve taken for several hours. His stride is uneven, listing to one side and then the other. So he has been drinking. His tie is missing, his collar open and wrinkled. His hair looks wet.
The leather couch against my back feels cold. It causes an involuntary shiver. “Why is your hair wet?” I ask, breaking the silence. “Where have you been? Adam?” I soften my tone. I don’t want to sound confrontational.
He stops pacing, gives me a strange, piercing look. “With Carolyn.”
“Carolyn?” My voice is thick. Carolyn Jeffrey is my best friend. She lives in west Austin, in a new apartment complex halfway between Adam’s office and the airport. But until this second I didn’t realize he even knew that. “You were at her place?” Why hadn’t she called me? “What’s going on, Adam? What do you want to talk to me about?”
He puts his hands on his hips. His face is tight, mouth pale at the edges. He keeps his eyes on the floor, the rug under his feet. I look where he’s staring and see nothing but his brown tasseled loafers.
“I don’t think I love you anymore, Sarah . . . I mean, I just don’t feel like I love you—”
“What do you mean you don’t feel like it?”
“I don’t want to sound cold, I really don’t. But I don’t know how else to say it. I’m not in love with you anymore. I’m just not. I feel like we’re friends, or . . . I don’t know . . . roommates.”
“You do too love me, you know you do.” I move to the edge of the couch. I feel hollowed out suddenly.
He hurries to sit down beside me, takes my hand. His thumb presses my knuckles. “That’s not how I meant to say it. I do love you, I’m just not in love with you anymore. I feel like we’ve lost that . . . like we’re just living together. Like brother and sister. Or like—”
“Roommates. I heard you.” I pull my hand away from his. “I think we’ve just hit a lull. We’ve talked about this, remember? We both said it’s normal for good marriages to have hills and valleys. We said that. You said that. Well, I think we’re just in a valley. That’s all.”
His eyes are Paul Newman blue. I’ve always loved the color of his eyes. They waver away from me. A single tear slips down his cheek. I resent that tear. I’m the one who gets to cry right now. I haven’t just told him I don’t love him. But I sit there dry-eyed, numb.
“This is more than just a lull,” he says finally. “I don’t want to argue, Sarah. Please, let’s don’t argue. Carolyn said I should come tell you before I left.”
My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean before you left?”
“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight. I thought I would just check into a hotel and call you tomorrow. But Carolyn said—”
“Carolyn said what? She told you to leave me?”
“No, you’re not listening to me. You never listen. She made me come home and tell you before I just walked out.”
“She made you?”
“Christ, Sarah, I’m trying to do this the right way, OK?”
“You mean you’re leaving now? This minute?”
“I just came home to get some of my things.” He stands up. I grab hold of his arm. I want to pull him back down on the couch beside me. I only manage to make him bend a little sideways.
“Don’t go, Adam. Not tonight. It’s late and you’ve been drin—” I stop myself, quickly course correct. “You’re tired. We’re both tired.”
“Drinking? You were about to say drinking.” He flicks my hand away. “You think I’m drunk and don’t know what I’m saying?”
“No—listen, Adam . . .” I stand, too. I don’t want to make him angry. Not right now. “It’s late. We’re both tired. Let’s talk about this in the morning.”
“Nothing will be any different in the morning. This isn’t going away.”
“You can’t leave like this. Not so abruptly like this. Let’s talk tomorrow. I want to understand, I really do, Adam. Please. Think about the boys. What will they think if they wake up in the morning, and you’re gone? Just like that. Without a word.”
I hold my eyes wide and unblinking, until the air stings them, and finally, finally—they start to water. Two tears drip off my bottom lashes and slide down my cheeks. Adam has never been able to withstand tears. He’s softhearted that way. When he sees my tears his own eyes well up again. I reach my arms around him, press my cheek against his chest. I hear the familiar thud of his heartbeat. His hand ventures up to pat my shoulder.