They did discuss a separation. He could just move out. Keep the kids when he was supposed to. Get his own place. Not see Mary — especially at night. That’s the way he was leaning. He asked if he should have a written agreement. They discussed it, and decided not right away. Paul made some plans, looked for a place near his house and work.
He also, the next day, visited the bank. He started a new account, left only a small amount in the regular checking. Arranged for direct deposit from his work to the new account. The savings was only in his name. The house was rented.
He and Mary slept in the same bed, but neither was all that interested in sex. Mary had her plans for Thursday. Wednesday morning, she told Paul that she had invited Joan over for dinner Thursday. He was fine with that. Despite her role in the clap debacle, he liked her.
Wednesday night, after the kids were asleep, Paul started trying to have sex — regular sex — with Mary. At first she seemed put off. But she responded when he was fondling her breasts. And he rubbed her through her panties. Then he took her hand and led her upstairs, where he steadily licked and kissed her, and she responded in kind. They ended up with slow, missionary sex. They both got off, her first. Then they cuddled. Mary was happy. She thought that Paul was expressing his love. For Paul, though, it was a nostalgic gesture, nothing more. He had made up his mind. Thursday afternoon he put down a deposit on a two bedroom apartment six blocks from work and a mile from his house.
Dinner with Joan and Mary and the kids was fun. They liked Joan, and she and Paul played games with them while Mary cooked. She served up beef stir fry, with rice, and ice cream for dessert.
The three of them put the kids to bed. Then Mary and Joan put on some music in the living room, and opened a bottle of wine. Mary had changed into a shift dress, with no shoes. Joan was wearing a soft blue blouse, and swishy skirt. High heel sandals. Paul began to be uncomfortable.