We're working it out. Not the marriage, but the end of the relationship as it once stood, and where we go from here. Besides the who-gets-what, there are a lot of mundane logistical realities to contend with, such as the fact that we share a cell phone plan, and that the car I'm keeping is registered in his name, and vice versa.
I did give him that hug the other night, but not before he took his heavy winter coat off. Though at first I wanted more connection, ultimately I was glad of the barrier. This hug was for his benefit, to show my enduring love and my progress toward forgiveness. But he had not earned my trust, nor the warmth of my body.
The next night (last night) when he came back to go over more numbers, I let him hug me again, but I didn't want or need it, and ultimately, I had to pull away. He had an unfamiliar laundry soap smell, and I imagined it was hers. I couldn't pretend it was okay.
Something -- part illusion, part trust -- has been shattered, and I'm standing in the aftermath as the dust settles, trying to determine how much, if anything, is salvageable of a long-lived love and friendship. The answer to this question remains to be seen.