Chapter 23
twenty-three
JORDAN
It’s been the longest day of my life.
I pull into my driveway beside Marilee’s car, cut the truck’s ignition, and just sit there slumped at the wheel, staring at the front of my house. The dull front sconces need a bulb change. The grass is overgrown, weeds and leaves overtake the yard, and the storm from Friday night broke a few large branches off the tree.
My property here is in a similar state as my work email, which has piled up over my long weekend away. Since it’s President’s Day and Ryder had the day off preschool, I was already planning to be home from work, simply looking over emails while he played and Marilee took a shift at the bakery. Instead, Mare had to call off work to stay home with Ryder, and I had to spend the day at Sam’s office, trying to figure a way out of this mess I made of the custody battle.
I still don’t have an answer. But I know one thing—telling Marilee about it will at least soothe the ache. She’s always been good at calming me down, helping me breathe easier. Climbing from the truck, I head through the unlocked front door, and my heart squeezes at the sight in front of me.
The kitchen’s seen a hurricane—a Cat 4, at least—with flour, sugar, and butter sprinkled all over the counters and dirty bowls and other dishes in and beside the sink. But in the middle of the counter is the world’s coolest two-tiered cake resembling the outside of the Avengers Compound, with various Avengers action figures placed strategically along the top, and the words Daddy, you’re my hero written in Marilee’s perfect print along the bottom.
But that’s not the part that has my heart in a vice. No, it’s seeing my son curled up on Marilee’s lap asleep, a book lying beside them on the couch. He’s tucked against her, and she’s got her head down too, clinging to him like she’s never letting go.
I set my wallet and keys on the counter. Her head pops up, and I can see she’s been crying—her mascara smudged, her eyes red. I don’t wait another moment before moving the book and joining them on the couch. Then I hold them both while she holds Ryder, my fingers smoothing through his thick red hair that’s sprinkled with flour.
“He wanted to help make your cake.”
“It’s amazing.” I lean in, kiss the side of her head, breathe in the sweetness of her. “You’re amazing.”
“Jay.” She sighs. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about the attorney’s office. Just let me get this guy to bed.”
Her face is stone, unreadable and strange, but she nods. I lift Ryder from her lap and walk him back to his bedroom, tucking him under his Captain America sheets and giving him one last glance before I turn out his light and close the door. Then I follow the hallway back to the living room, where Marilee is no longer sitting on the couch, but standing by the Christmas tree.
She’s taking down ornaments one by one, rewrapping them in tissue paper and placing them in the tub I keep in the garage with holiday decorations. And she’s crying, again.
“Hey, hey, hey.” I gently take her shoulders, turn her to me. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just a waterworks festival lately.” She gives me a brave smile and pivots back to the tree, continuing to remove hooks off the artificial branches. “What did Mr. Granger say?”
“He confirmed what we suspected. Some old biddy that’s a friend of Constance’s heard you talking with your friends at Bowl O’Rama?—”
“I’m so, so sorry.” Her hands go faster, removing the ornaments at lightning speed. “I should have kept my stupid mouth shut, especially knowing we were in her town.”
“Lee—”
“Don’t try to tell me it’s not my fault. It is.” She stops for a moment, glances over at me. “And what about the supposed written evidence?”
“Apparently Constance found a copy of our contract. The rules we wrote up.”
She gasps. “What? How?”
“That one’s on me, I’m afraid. Ryder asked me a week or so ago for some paper to color on, and I told him there was some in the printer in my bedroom…”
“Let me guess. You had just printed the rules out?” Ornaments fly again, one at a time, from her hand into the box.
I cringe watching them go, but nothing breaks. “Yep, it was an earlier version of the contract I printed here—the final one that we signed was printed at my office. But after printing that earlier version, I got distracted and forgot to grab it off the printer. When I finally remembered, it wasn’t there, but I just figured my computer had malfunctioned or I hadn’t hit the Print button like I thought.”
“So Ryder used the contract as a coloring sheet…”
“And it was in his backpack when he was playing at their house last week. Yes.”
“Ugh.”
“Ugh is right.” I unhook the lights from the tree and start winding them up. I still don’t understand why she’s choosing to tackle this tonight, but I’m going to help so she knows she isn’t alone in it. “Anyway, Sam basically spent hours grilling me about every aspect of our relationship, and he still wasn’t satisfied that our position is strong enough to win. I told him I’d like to speak, to tell our side of the story, and he said no way.”
“Really? Why?”
“Said there are too many holes in our story, that the judge might not believe us. And it opens me up to their shark of an attorney’s cross examination. Who knows what else they could bring up.”
Marilee’s fingers tremble as she reaches for another hook—and she yelps, yanking it back.
“You okay?” I reach for her hand and pull it close to find her fingertip bleeding from a prick. “Hang on.”
In the bathroom, I find a Band-Aid and some first aid cream and rush back to her. She’s sitting on the couch, tears streaming down her face yet again.
I slide onto the coffee table in front of her. “Does it hurt really bad?”
“No.”
“You sure? It seems like it does.” I reach for her hand again.
“I’ll do it,” she says softly.
“I don’t mind.”
“Just…please hand me the bandage, Jay.”
My forehead furrows as I place the Neosporin and Band-Aid beside her. “What’s wrong?”
She uses her teeth to unscrew the lid of the cream. “Other than the fact you might lose your son because of me? Oh, nothing much.” A large blob of the Neosporin shoots from the tube onto her finger.
“Because of you? The bowling alley was a simple mistake, just like leaking the contract.”
Marilee rips open the Band-Aid next, and the disposable flaps and wrapper float down to the ground at her feet. “This whole marriage of convenience was my idea. Another stupid idea from my stupid brain—not thinking things through, just like always. I’ve brought my chaos into your life, into Ryder’s life, and I will never forgive myself if you lose him because of me.”
She flicks the bandage around her finger, and tears dot the lenses of her glasses.
What is she saying? “Geez, Lee, come on. It doesn’t matter how this marriage started. We’ll just tell the judge how it is now?—”
“Like Sam said, he’ll never believe us.”
“He might.”
She stands again abruptly, and I do too, reaching for her—but she’s back at that darn tree.
And I see what she’s doing now, why she’s yanking those ornaments off with fervor. “I’m not letting you do this.” I reach into the box and rehang ornaments at the same speed she’s pulling them down.
“Jordan.” She stomps her little foot, and it would be adorable if it didn’t terrify me. If this—her attempt to put away the thing in this house that I left up for her and her alone—didn’t mean…
“You can’t leave, Lee. I know what you’re thinking here. That you have somehow ruined my chance to keep Ryder. But I don’t think that’s true. I think if we tell the judge that you’re here and this is real and you’re what is best for Ryder because he loves you like a mom?—”
“But I’m not, am I? His mom. However much I want to be. And I’m not your wife, not really.”
She might as well have taken a whisk to my insides, scrambling them up like eggs. “Look, I know what I said yesterday, about not trapping you in this marriage.” And I meant it. But I didn’t tell her what I really want. I should have and I didn’t. But I’m going to now. “But?—”
“And you were right. I have a choice here.”
My heart pounds in my throat because, yes, she does. “So you’re just going to, what? Walk away?”
Stepping forward, she grabs my hands, and I can feel the rough bandage covering her soft touch, a barrier between us. “I will always be here for you. For Ryder. But right now, I think it’s better if we get a little space to think about what’s best for all of us. So I’m going to go stay with Blake and Lucy for… Well, I don’t know how long. Okay?”
I want to pull her in, hold her there forever, remind her of the love we just spoke about on Saturday, yesterday, this morning when I kissed her forehead as I slid out of bed and headed for the attorney’s office.
But it’s not enough. It’s never been enough.
Because Mom is right—love requires a choice.
And Marilee is not choosing me. Again.
And I could sit here and beg and cajole and try to get her to stay, but whether it’s my pride or my battered heart or the pure exhaustion of this fight I’ve been fighting for fifteen years—trying, desperately, to make her mine, to love her like she needs me to—I just can’t.
“Okay.” I slump onto the couch, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. Then I spy something I didn’t before—her suitcase, right beside the door.
She was planning this all day. From the moment I walked in, she knew she was going to leave.
She’d already made her choice. Nothing I said was ever going to stop her.
“Are you still going to come to court tomorrow?”
Marilee grips the edge of the mantel. “Of course I am. But I think it’s best if I drive myself there.”
I exhale. “Fine.”
But I don’t feel fine. Nothing’s fine. I’m pretty sure I just lost the love of my life. Maybe my best friend too. And if I also lose my son?
Yeah. I’m the exact opposite of fine.