Chapter Four
Adam
It’s Thanksgiving day, and as I have for the last three Thanksgivings, I’ll spend it alone.
Leslie and I have been separated for two years, but we had problems long before that.
Right after Ian was born was when we could no longer pretend everything was okay.
It was the stress of a new baby while dealing with a four year old, working, and just overall not liking each other anymore.
I used to like her so much—hell, I loved her—and then one day, I just didn’t.
But we kept going because we were married and had kids, and that’s what you’re supposed to do.
We talked about our issues before we split—it was amicable, which is how I know my experience was the same as hers, but I feel like I tried to fix things longer than she did. Or maybe I didn’t try hard enough.
Still, we gave it our best then and we keep things cordial now—mostly because I don’t argue with her about anything.
I know that, but it’s easier to do as she says so she doesn’t make my life more difficult than it already is.
I wish I could see my kids every day, but with the contract in place for work, I’m stuck traveling back and forth to California each week until the end of the year.
Leslie said once it ends, we can revisit our schedule with the kids.
Still, I know that doesn’t mean I’ll see them every day. They’re her kids too, and splitting time with them is the worst thing about separating. I would love nothing more than to quit my job and be with my kids every damn second of every damn day.
Every Monday that comes, I’m exhausted because I spend my nights over the weekend in their bedrooms, watching them sleep, carefully taking in all the changes.
Like the new freckles on Judy’s nose, or the extra eye lashes on Ian’s beautiful eyes.
They grow too fast, and I swear each time I pick them up, even though only a few days have past, it feels like months.
I don’t really care about the holidays—they mean nothing to me. But not being able to spend them with my kids, not being able to make traditions with them, that’s what I hate.
It was one of the things I looked forward to most when it came to having kids. Creating memories for them, with them.
I have wonderful childhood memories with my family, and that’s what I wanted for my kids.
But it seems all their memories will be with their mother and her family, with me pushed to the side and picking them up when they’re already full of turkey and pie and ready for bed.
Or after all their presents have been opened and they’ve spent hours playing with them, and then all they want to do is sleep.
It’s not fair, but at the end of the day, I only have myself to blame.
I chose this life, I chose Leslie, I didn’t try hard enough, and now I get to suffer for my choices.
And then, because life really loves to fuck with me, I ran into Emmet.
Of all people… Emmet Durant. I couldn’t believe it when he walked out of the back room of that bar.
Truly, I thought I was dreaming—because how is that possible?
He looks as good as ever. The years have done wonders to him. He looks healthy, and in shape. He’s a little more rugged than he once was, with his hair grown longer and his beard bushy, but that’s Emmet. Nothing else would suit him.
I can’t help but wonder if him being here means something.
If it’s a sign that moving to Seattle was the right choice—that I should try harder to convince Leslie to stay because this is where her family is.
She’s on the fence about going back to California, but if we can make things work in Seattle, why not? Why go back?
I have nothing in California anymore. All the friends I made over the years were because of Leslie.
They’re all married couples with kids, and now we have nothing in common because I’m hardly a dad when I’m in Cali.
It’s likely I’ll no longer be the person they knew ever again.
My life has changed so much, and I don’t fit into that mold anymore.
I can’t imagine marrying someone again. I can’t even imagine dating; I have no time for it.
Between traveling and the kids, I hardly have time for myself, something I am constantly being told by—
“Hey, what are you still doing here?”
Cassidy.
“Just working on some emails before I have to head to the airport,” I answer, giving her a quick smile.
She rolls her eyes and plops into the chair on the other side of my desk. “You should have left last night. You know, before the holiday.”
“I’ll be in Seattle by twelve. What are you doing here?” I ask, letting out a heavy sigh.
“I forgot my favorite cup.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I can’t go until Tuesday without it.”
“It’s just a cup.”
She waves me off. “So, big plans with the kids?”
I shrug, closing out of my email and powering down my laptop.
“Not really. It’ll be late by the time I pick them up tonight. They’ll probably sleep late tomorrow.”
“At least you have the whole day to do stuff with them.”
“I guess.”
She watches me carefully as I close my laptop and get to my feet.
“Are you going to talk to any adults this weekend, Adam?”
I pause, raising an eyebrow at her.
“You spend every weekend with your kids, and granted they’re adorable, you need adults in your life too.” She hops to her feet and pulls her phone from her back pocket. “I have a friend—“
“No,” I say with a firm shake of my head and zip up my backpack.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have time for dating or for friends.”
“You have plenty of time, Adam. A lot of adults date after divorce.”
“I’m not divorced.”
“Separated, whatever,” she groans. “Just take her number.”
Just take her number.
I don’t know why it grates on my nerves.
It isn’t the pushy part or even the number part.
It’s the assumption that I’ll only date women.
And I guess I’m the only one to blame for that.
This is the life I chose, this is the part of me I’ve shown everyone for the last fourteen years of my life.
And before that, there was only one person who saw a different part of me.
Someone who now lives in Seattle and owns a bar three blocks from my house.
“Cassidy, I appreciate the thought, but even if I take it, I won’t text her. I don’t have time for this.” I pull my back up my shoulder. “I have to go.”
“Fine!” she calls after me when I walk by. “But you know how to reach me if you change your mind. She’s hot as hell, Adam! And I hear she’s into kinky shit.”
As if sex is the only selling point on dating someone? I chuckle as I leave the office.
I fell asleep on the flight, so I don’t see the texts on my phone until I’m stepping off the plane.
Leslie
Judy wants to come shopping with me tonight. Ian will stay with my mom. Can you pick them up tomorrow?
Do you really think that’s a good idea?
Leslie
I don’t see why not. It’s not like there’s school tomorrow.
People have died during Black Friday shopping.
Leslie
Do you really think I would let harm come to my child, Adam? Jesus.
It’s not about “letting,” Leslie. Other people are dangerous.
Leslie
Sheltering her won’t fix that problem. She’ll be fine and we won’t be out late. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
And just like that, I’m shut out. I have no options, no choices.
I do what she says when she says or I may not see my kids at all.
And I guess that’s my fault too. If I went to court, we’d have an actual custody arrangement.
But then they’d look at my schedule and maybe not let me see my kids either.
I know how the system can be, and this is the safer option.
Leslie has never threatened to not let me see them, but I’ve heard enough horror stories through the years to keep my mouth shut.
But also? Damn these stores for opening earlier and earlier for Black Friday shopping.
I walk through the airport, to the parking garage, and get into my car to head home.
I drive past The Butterfly on my way, as I typically do on my way home, and find myself slowing down.
It’s dark, the small parking lot empty. There’s a sign on the front door, but I can’t make out what it says.
I’m sure it says they’re closed for Thanksgiving, but what time will they open tomorrow?
Will I have enough time to stop by before getting the kids?
Maybe they’ll be closed all day and I won’t be able to see Emmet for a while.
I pull over to the side of the road and park.
There’s no parking here, but the street is dark and no one is around.
Besides, I’m just going across the road to look at something.
I’m not staying all night. I throw my hood up to keep the rain from my face—which doesn’t work—then hurry across the street, trying to avoid puddles but failing and soaking my pants.
Closed for Thanksgiving.
Scotch tape holds the sign to the door but it looks like it’s about to fall off any second.
I sigh, ready to head back to my car when the door pulls open. I startle, stumbling back, but my chest floods with hope. This could be Emmet. Who else would be here today at this time?
Only it isn’t Emmet. It’s someone I don’t recognize at all, and I wonder who they are and why they’re here.
“Oh, sorry,” they say quickly, making their way onto the sidewalk and pulling out a cigarette. “They’re closed,” he adds, and I can tell by the way he’s saying it that something is going on in there that isn’t supposed to be happening.
“No worries. I was actually looking for someone.” A strong gust of wind blows, ripping the sign from the door. It flies down the street, landing in a puddle. “Emmet?” I add.
“The new owner?” I nod. “He’s not here tonight,” he says carefully. “Uh… and we, uh—well, we’re—“
“I won’t say anything, don’t worry.”
This bar is a comfort place for a few people. Though I don’t come here often, I’ve been here enough to know the vibe.
He blows out a breath. “Thanks, man.”
“It’s no problem. Just do me a favor and don’t mention me showing up.”
“Of course,” he says with a smile, and I turn to head back to my car.
“I hear he comes by first thing in the mornings!”
I look at the guy over my opened car door. “Thank you!” I call back with a smile, then get in and finish the drive home.