From Ali MacGraw book:

"The truth was that I had had a kind of druggy affair periodically during that movie, The next day we rode back to town, the way we came, through that ravishing wilderness, and then back to reality — Los Angeles. The storm in our relationship seemed to be subsiding. We had our last meal in Montana at a funky bar/restaurant, with our guide and a South American big game hunter he had befriended. At dinner Steve went on and on about trucks and camshafts and God-only-knew-what car talk with our guide.

And I, having nothing to add to that conversation, decided to practice my so-so Italian with the other member of the dinner party, who seemed to be equally bored with the topic of vehicles. The South American was attractive and spoke several languages, but I had no interest in him other than passing the evening.

I had fallen back in love with Steve during our Yellowstone adventure, and I was looking forward to going home and beginning again. But, once again by ourselves in the hotel room, Steve started a jealous diatribe, and he did not let up all the way back to Los Angeles.

He was convinced that I had been flirting with the man from Chile, and nothing I said could convince him otherwise. It was a nightmarish interrogation that went on relentlessly.

I was exhausted from crying, and began to think that he planned to get me so tired and incoherent that I could be gaslit into saying what he wanted to hear: that I had been carrying on with whatever-his-name-was, in a “foreign language,” deliberately trying to make a fool of Steve.

Finally, I snapped. I remember the look of horror on Chad’s face as I screamed at his father that I wanted a divorce, and that I wanted him out of the house. (Steve, at least, had somewhere else to go.) I told him I would need thirty days to find a home for myself and Joshua, and that until then, he could come back to Trancas two nights a week to be with the two boys.

Shortly after, I called Steve on an impulse to tell him that I thought we had made a terrible mistake. His reply sent a dagger through my heart: “I am not in love with you anymore,” he said. “I love you, but I am not in love.”

Although I had asked for a divorce, I do not think the finality of our separation hit home until then. I cried hysterically, alone and out loud, with only the family dog to console me.