Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RORY
Our lunch had lasted hours thanks to the Bloody Marys Gran had ordered for us both. Finn had only winked at his soon-to-be grandmother-in-law before depositing two on our table. After one sip of the cocktail, I had known exactly what the wink had been for. Double the vodka.
Considering my big alcoholic splurge came in the form of maybe a few glasses of wine each week, I’d nearly toppled off the chair by the time I’d gotten to the bottom of my drink. And while the burger and fries weren’t quite as refined as the chicken salad sandwich on a flaky, buttery croissant I’d planned to indulge in, I couldn’t deny the food was delicious.
“Gran, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask, and I’ll even give you my opinion for free.”
I smiled. “Do you think I can build a business from my designs? A real business—one that can support the girls and me.”
Gran hummed, her unwavering gaze focused on me. “Do you remember how much you loved ballet?”
“What’s that have to do with my question?”
“Just answer it, little missy.”
I huffed out a laugh. Didn’t matter that I was in my thirties—I’d forever be a little missy to my grandmother. “Course I do.”
In third grade, I had fallen head over heels in love with ballet. Posters had covered my walls, and ballet shoes had decorated my bedroom. Music boxes and figurines…even bedding. I’d been enamored.
I’d taken lessons all year leading up to a recital. I’d been so proud of my hard work—had loved every second of it. And I hadn’t been able to wait to share what I’d done with my family.
Except, the night of the recital, Daddy had never shown up. Momma had made excuses for him, but he’d made his stance on the subject quite clear—ballet was too froufrou, and it wasn’t worth his time to attend something as silly as a recital.
As a little girl, I’d been crushed. That my daddy—the man I’d looked up to more than anyone—didn’t consider something I loved to be worthy was a huge blow to my self-esteem. And all I’d wanted, for as long as I could remember, was recognition from him.
“Watchin’ your face right now is like relivin’ it all over again,” Gran said, an angry thread to her voice.
“Relivin’ what?”
“Your first—and only —recital. When my jackass son didn’t deem his little girl’s love to be worth his time.” She shook her head, lips pursed. “I tore him up one side and down the other that night, but it didn’t matter. Don’t ask me how he grew up to be so ornery and bullheaded.”
I snorted, because that was Gran through and through. The big difference between them was that Gran didn’t use those characteristics to hurt others and tear them down.
“It was no big deal,” I said, repeating the same thing I’d told myself a hundred times. “I was only nine anyhow. Lots of hobbies still to come.”
Gran hummed, her eyes narrowed and assessing. “Back to design…what’re you so afraid of?”
I huffed, shifting in my seat. Feeling like I was under the world’s largest microscope. “What’s with all the questions, Gran?”
Gran didn’t dignify that with a response, instead just sitting primly in her chair, hands folded on top of the table, staring straight at me.
I blew out a breath and rolled my eyes, thankful I still had enough of a buzz to let the words flow freely. “Daddy’s always said designin’ could never be a legitimate career.”
“Your daddy’s said a lot of dumb-ass nonsense in his sixty years, and you, of all people, should know better than to listen to a single word of it.”
My shoulders sagged, because I knew Gran was right. But that didn’t make putting it into action any easier.
“You listen to me now, Aurora Jane,” Gran said, her tone brooking no argument. “You do whatever the hell you wanna do. Whatever makes you happy. You . Not your momma or your daddy. Not your sisters or your daughters. Not even me. You’ve spent your whole life attemptin’ to please other people. First your daddy and then that no-good—and thankfully now ex—husband of yours. When are you gonna start pleasin’ yourself?” She reached over, placing her hand on top of mine and giving it a squeeze. “Don’t let this be ballet all over again.”
And with those final words, Gran turned away, flagged down Finn for the check, and paid before I could even reach for my purse.
After settling the bill, we strolled back to my car—the greasy burger and fries finally soaking up the excess alcohol enough to sober me up so I could drive. All the while, I kept turning Gran’s words over and over in my mind.
All these years, I had convinced myself I’d quit ballet because I didn’t love it quite as much as I’d thought. That it’d been one hundred percent my decision with no other input. But that wasn’t the truth.
I’d quit because my daddy didn’t regard it as worthy.
I hadn’t majored in what I’d wanted to in college for the same reason. I’d allowed Sean to corral me in the proper direction, practically lining up hobbies for me that he’d deemed appropriate. Did I even really like half of them?
With a long exhale, I unlocked my car and slid into the driver’s seat. Those were a whole lot of questions for today, and I didn’t have the energy to tackle a single one right now.
“This was fun, but thanks to the detour from our usual spot, I’m runnin’ late to get the girls,” I said without any heat in my tone as I backed out of the parking space.
“I think you mean thanks to Finn’s fine Bloody Marys. That boy certainly knows how to make ’em, doesn’t he?”
I couldn’t argue with that. “They definitely pack a punch.”
“Only ’cause I taught him how to make ’em properly. One of the best days of my life was when that boy showed up to give your daddy a run for his money. Honestly, only a bunch of fuddy-duddies would think alcohol consumption would turn nice folk into hooligans. Idiots, all of ’em—your daddy included.” She shot me a look loaded with meaning, no doubt referencing our lunch discussion. “At least now I don’t have to drive thirty miles just to get some pep in my step.” Gran did a little shimmy in her seat.
“Do that often, do you?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Gran shot me a smile that promised to be hiding a thousand secrets. “As for my great-granddaughters, I’m sure they’re just fine. And that ex-asshole of yours can stand to wait around awhile.”
I laughed, then covered it with a cough. Heaven knew my grandmother didn’t need any encouragement in being impolite. Gran had never liked Sean…from the first time I had brought him home. She’d sat in her rocker, looking on with narrowed eyes, studying him. What had she seen that I’d missed?
Part of me wished I knew…maybe even wished I’d answered differently the day Sean had proposed. When he’d dropped down to one knee and smiled up at me with such confidence, promising a future exactly like I’d always dreamed. All the while I’d stood there, wondering if this was really it. If this was what I wanted for the rest of my life. If he was what I wanted.
It didn’t take long to arrive in my old neighborhood. Huge trees lined the picturesque street. The lawns were manicured impeccably, seasonal flowers punctuating each front step or porch. Children’s laughter greeted me even through the closed windows of my car, and an ache settled in my gut.
I’d had the ideal life, living here. Successful husband, two lovely children, a beautiful, well-kept house…and a bone-deep loneliness I’d never revealed to a soul.
I hated coming back here and being reminded of it all. It wasn’t the house or the neighborhood so much as it was the fact that after everything, after all I’d put into this life—the blood, sweat, and tears; the time and effort I’d showered on the house solely to take my mind off my absentee husband; the committees and volunteering and dressing just so—all that perfection had been for nothing.
I nearly passed my old house thanks to the moving truck currently residing in the driveway. A pit formed in my stomach as I braked, then reversed in the street to park along the curb.
Sarah Beth’s car was parked next to the moving truck, taking up my old place in the driveway. I stared up at the house, at the moving truck, at this picture-perfect life I no longer had. A picture-perfect life my former best friend was, apparently, ready to step right into.
“You go ’head and stay in here. I’ll fetch the girls,” Gran said, reaching for the door handle.
Before I could take a second to consider, I gripped Gran’s forearm. “No.” The word came out harsher than I’d intended, and I cleared my throat, softening my tone. “You had three Bloody Marys, and the last thing you need is to trip over that crack in the sidewalk, fall, and break a hip. Momma’d kill me if I broke you when we were just supposed to go out for lunch.”
Gran stared at me, a knowing look on her face, and dipped her head in a small nod. While I appreciated Gran’s attempt to shield me from this, I needed to be a big girl and face it head on. This was my life, whether I liked it or not. And the asshole I’d once called my husband would be part of it forever because of the two beautiful girls we shared. I wasn’t about to set a precedent of avoidance so soon—and certainly not when he was the one in the wrong.
I stepped out of my car, the older model so out of place in my former neighborhood full of the newest and best everything, and smoothed a hand first over my hair then down my sundress. Impeccably dressed, as always. Old habits died hard.
My heels clicked on the pavement as I strode up the front path, my head held high. To anyone watching, there was no doubt I looked the part. Though, inside… Inside, I was splintering.
Splintering over the fact that this was supposed to be my house, my family, my life. I’d worked so fucking hard to make this the perfect home for a husband who hadn’t spared me a moment of his time. I’d put everything I had into that, thinking, hoping , that maybe if I did, he’d be happy.
Trouble was, I’d spent all that time worrying about his happiness and never once thought about my own, just like Gran had said.
I rang the doorbell, the answering chime the exact one I’d painstakingly picked out years ago. The door flew open, and out spilled the girls—Ella first, followed by a grinning Ava.
“Momma! You’ll never believe the news!” Ava said, bouncing on her toes, her body practically vibrating with happiness.
I pulled them both in for a hug, pressing kisses to the tops of their heads. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. Why don’t y’all go get in the car? Gran’s waitin’. I need to speak to your daddy for a moment.”
That was the understatement of the century. I was going to chew him up and spit him out. I shouldn’t have expected decency when it came to him, but I’d had the misplaced notion that he’d at least have the common courtesy to warn me if he planned to move someone in to my old home.
“Hey, Rory.” Sarah Beth stood on the other side of the screen door in ratty cutoffs and a tank top, her hair in complete disarray, looking like she belonged at a frat party, not in the best neighborhood in Havenbrook. And wasn’t that just irony at its finest? That me, with my tasteful makeup, smooth chignon, and perfectly pressed sundress was the outsider now.
I straightened my shoulders, a muscle ticking in my jaw. I nodded stiffly to my former best friend. “Sarah Beth. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Sean, please.”
“I’m afraid he’s not here right now. He’s at my old place, helpin’ my brothers with a few things.”
Fantastic. So that bitch had been alone with my daughters for who knew how long. Of course, I wasn’t able to stop that kind of thing—our daughters were best friends, after all, and had been since diapers—but I’d minimized it as best I could.
But now? Now, that was all shot to hell.
“Course he is. It was only his time with his daughters. Don’t know why I assumed he’d want to spend it with them.” I kept my tone pleasant as if I were commenting on the weather we were having and not challenging Sean’s interest in our girls.
“He does,” Sarah Beth insisted. “It’s just, well…” She gestured to the moving truck in the driveway then shrugged. “My lease is up today, so there wasn’t any way around it.”
I gave her a tight smile, all the while attempting to burn a hole in Sarah Beth’s forehead solely powered by my rage. “Yes, he’s just so busy. What with making partner and bangin’ anything that walks.”
Sarah Beth’s mouth dropped open in shock—something I was feeling a little of myself. But to hell with it. In for a penny, in for a pound. I was tired of tiptoeing around and not saying exactly what I thought. I’d done it all my life, had strived for pure perfection in my manners, my actions, my dress, and where had it gotten me?
So instead of apologizing and taking back my words, I just stood in the silence that crackled between us, not willing to be the first to break.
“I never meant for this to happen, you know,” Sarah Beth finally said. “I never wanted things to end up like this between us.”
I barked out a humorless laugh. “Oh, so he just accidentally fell into your vagina?” I asked with false confusion. “That’s such a weight off my shoulders. Bless your heart, thanks so much for lettin’ me know!”
“Rory, c’mon now, don’t be like that. You’re my best friend, and I’m just sick about everything that happened.”
The sad thing was, she appeared to be genuine. And that, right there, was where I had gone wrong. Sarah Beth didn’t see anything faulty with her actions, which meant my standards had bit me in the ass once again. It was my own damn fault that I’d assumed my closest friend would treat me exactly as I would’ve treated Sarah Beth. With respect and love and loyalty . But that was my axe to grind. I needed to lower my expectations because I was tired of getting burned.
“Yes, well, you probably should’ve thought about that before you opened your legs for my husband.” I shot Sarah Beth a sardonic smile and exuded as much fake enthusiasm as I could muster. “But I do so wish you both the best of luck. You certainly deserve each other.”
It took every ounce of control I possessed to turn on my heels, stroll down the front walk—stepping over the pile of mail Edna had tossed there, bless her—and slip into my car as if I didn’t have a care in the world. As if I’d just dropped off Girl Scout cookies instead of learning my best friend for the past thirty-plus years was now shacking up with my ex-husband only two months after our divorce was final.
The girls were chatting away excitedly in the car, Ava going on and on about how cool it was that she got to share a room with her best friend. And isn’t that so great, Momma ?
I slipped on my mask, smile firmly in place as I listened to my girls titter on about the changes at their daddy’s place, when all they managed to do at my house was complain about how it was so far away from all their friends, how they didn’t have a trampoline or a pool or a basketball hoop, and that it was so much hotter, smaller, older than Daddy’s house.
“Girls, what would you say to helpin’ out your great-gran?” Gran asked. “Mimi’s been hounding me to get that attic cleaned out for months. So many old clothes and fancy jewelry hidin’ up there. Think y’all might like to help me go through it?”
“Can we try ’em on?” Ava asked excitedly at the same time Ella scoffed, “ Jewelry ?” with as much disdain as one would say cockroaches .
“Yes, Ava,” Gran said, turning around to glance in the back seat. “And, Ella, I do believe there’re some of Great-Gramps’s old baseball cards that need sortin’, too.”
“Really?” Ella’s tone brightened. “Can we, Momma?”
“I’m sure it’ll be quite late,” Gran said off-handedly. “It’d probably work best to just have the girls stay the night, then Mimi can take ’em to camp in the mornin’.”
I didn’t want to say yes. It’d been Sean’s weekend, which meant the girls had been with their daddy for five days, and I’d missed them. I was still getting used to not seeing them every day, and it was hard. It hurt .
All I wanted to do was curl up with them on the couch, eat popcorn, and have a movie marathon. But that was the dream world.
In reality, Ava and I would get into a fight within ten minutes of being home, Ella would disappear into the backyard, and I would be left alone to stew over everything.
“That sounds like a lot of fun, girls,” I said, my throat thick with unshed tears. “But tomorrow, I want you all to myself, all right?”
A chorus of yays sounded from my daughters and grandmother, bringing a genuine smile to my face. Apparently getting tipsy at noon wasn’t going to be my lowest point today. Because good judgment and common sense had left the building. I was cracking into those bottles of wine in my pantry, and I wasn’t stopping until I’d made sense of exactly how I’d let my life turn out like this.