Chapter 20
Twenty
Christmas dinner is an epic spread. Prime rib takes center stage, with sides spilling across the table. If you can keep your pants buttoned after, it’s a Christmas miracle.
Leo and Beck have vanished, hypnotized by their new video games, and the rest of us gather in the living room, sprawled across the sectional in post-dinner contentment.
A silly Christmas movie plays while conversation drifts in soft waves.
Anna climbs from lap to lap, babbling and giggling, showing off toys.
Mason sits apart. One leg is crossed, phone in hand, eyes glued to the screen. He’s been silent since the basement. His eyes travel to my collarbone every few minutes, teeth clenching each time he finds it bare. His barely contained animosity is oddly freeing.
I don’t have to pretend and let my mind wander.
You have all the power here.
I’ve felt powerless for so long, and James has handed me everything. His heart, his future, his vulnerability—and he trusts me not to destroy them. It wasn’t a plea or seduction. It was a vow.
Night settles over the mountains, streaks of moonlight stealing across the dimly lit room. The sky stretches wide and obsidian, every star a tiny, defiant truth. Constellations I used to wish on as a girl before I knew better. Before I knew the sky never promised anything but presence.
Every risk. Every choice is up to us.
“Sydney, how has work been?” Margaret asks, her tone warm. “I haven’t heard you say much about it.”
“Things are good. Same as the last time you were visiting. We're still remote, so if our sitter needs anything, I’m right there.”
Margaret nods approvingly, but before she can respond, Mason interjects. “Mom, don’t buy this martyr act. She’s basically working part-time now compared to the hours she used to put in. It’s a joke.”
He laughs alone. The room sits in silence.
And the worst part?
He thinks I’ll take it, that I’ll absorb the blow with grace, the way I used to. The way I was trained. I see it in the smug set of his jaw, the way his eyes lift like he just won a case in court.
I sip my wine, letting the bitterness settle on my tongue, waiting for the fire in my chest to cool before I speak. The old me would’ve let it pass, smoothed it over with a laugh or deflection. But I’m not that woman anymore. Not since Anna. Not since James showed me true respect.
The bold, unapologetic woman I’ve been clawing my way back to—she’s here now.
“You’re right.” My voice is clear enough to carry across the room. “I’ve cut back my hours since having Anna. My priorities have changed. I love being a mom, and I have zero interest in making partner or losing myself in that grind again. I don’t need that to feel fulfilled anymore.”
“Such a waste of your law degree,” Mason scoffs, shaking his head.
I refuse to flinch. I look at Jules. At James. Their eyes burn with fury, and I let it steady me. Let it remind me I’m not alone.
“Mason, what is wrong with you?” Tom snaps. “Do you hear yourself?”
But I don’t need saving.
“It’s okay, Tom.” I flash a wide, wicked smile. “Mason’s made it clear that showing up has never been his thing.”
The morning’s holiday cheer vanishes without a trace. Jules and Tom exchange a look. Gary studies the ceiling, and Margaret turns to Anna. James scans my face with complete, undiluted attention. Ivy’s unease is impossible to miss. Mason stiffens, color rushing to his face.
I smile wider. Let the silence stretch.
Sorry, Mason. I’m no longer your polite punching bag in pearls. If you want to pick a fight in front of your family, don’t expect me to play nice.
Margaret clears her throat, her discomfort obvious. “Well, it’s wonderful that you’re finding a balance that works for you, Sydney.”
“It really is.” I pause, waiting to see if she’s going to turn to Mason. Instead, she tickles Anna.
“That’s so inspiring, Syd,” Ivy says, a broad smile on her face. “I’ve been thinking a lot about balance lately. James and I have talked about me scaling back at the firm once we’re married. You know, focusing more on...other things.”
James coughs. “Have we?”
“Once we’re married, kids and a house follow.” She looks around the room. “I mean, that’s what marriage is about, right? Building something together?”
“It’s important for couples to be on the same page about those things,” Margaret offers diplomatically.
“Until a baby comes, you don't realize your spouse might want a completely different future.” Mason’s eyes gleam blue as a frosted lake. “But trying for a baby is certainly fun.”
“Don’t be crude.” Margaret chides him.
James’s eyes find mine across the room. This time, I didn't fold away or hide behind Mason trying to tear me down. But instead of pride in my strength, all I see is a man dying inside, forced to watch from the sidelines, absorbing the awkwardness as best he can while pretending to be nothing more than Ivy’s fiancé.
“If you’ll excuse me, Anna needs to go to bed.”
Once Anna’s settled in her crib, I see the text I was expecting.
Sydney, this is Vera Navarro, James’s mom. He mentioned you’re willing to talk. Please call me when you have a chance. Even today is fine.
I lock myself in the bathroom and dial. Talking to a woman helping others escape bad situations is the perfect ending to this day.
She answers on the second ring, her voice warm and instantly calming.
Our conversation flows with the ease of old friends, while she fills me in on a woman who recently found refuge in her shelter.
I slip into work mode, taking notes, asking questions, and outlining next steps.
This is something I know how to do, even if my day to day involves more paper pushing than people helping.
“I’ll pass along your number,” Vera says. “I think she’ll be ready soon.”
In the background, I hear movement. A deep male voice says something I can’t make out. Vera hushes him gently. “I’m on the phone.”
“Sounds like you’re needed. I won’t keep you.”
She chuckles. “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. That’s Darrell. He can wait. I can’t let the infamous Sydney off the phone so soon.”
I blink. James talks about me? More than just mentioning I could help? But it’s the name Darrell that sticks. There’s something in the way she says it. Something soft. Curious, I venture, “Darrell is…?”
“My partner,” she says, without hesitation. “James told me he shared some of my history with you. So no need to tiptoe around it.”
I hadn’t expected her to be so direct, and dozens of questions surged forward.
How did she learn to trust again? To open up? How did she bring a new man into her child’s life after so much uncertainty and pain? Wasn’t she scared the past would just repeat itself?
As if reading my thoughts, she continues, her voice softer, more reflective. “Coming out of that marriage… It wasn’t easy. I stayed too long. I knew it. The way it ended…”
She exhales, then continues. “It took a long time, but when I met Darrell, I knew he was different. Opening up again wasn’t easy.
Letting someone in after all that damage might have taken more courage than actually leaving my husband.
But I had a choice. I didn’t have to stay stuck in the pain.
I could stop just surviving and start really living.
The hard part was realizing the power had been mine all along. I only had to choose it.”
The line crackles, as if urging me to lean in and hear what she’s offering.
“What made Darrell different?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Darrell never needed me to be anything but who I was. He didn’t try to fix it. He just stayed and let me carry what I needed to.”
Her words slice right through every guarded part of my soul. Tears follow.
“I’m sorry, Vera, I have to go. Anna is fussing,” I lie, barely getting the words out.
“Sydney,” she says, warmth threading every syllable. “Call me anytime, for any reason.”
I run a hand over my face, breath shaky, as I perch on the edge of the bathtub.
Our pasts aren’t the same. But for the first time, someone gets it. The fear of letting someone in. The guilt that trails every thought. The endless calculus.
I see it now. How I’ve been living in the shadow of my parents’ wounds, always bracing for the next blow. Is this how I want to keep living? Guarded, afraid, already grieving the loss of a love I’ve never even allowed myself to have?
No. I want more than survival.
I want a life that moves me.
Jules once said the universe sometimes hands you a truth so obvious it splits you wide open. So clear you can’t hide from it anymore. And Vera’s truth is screaming at me, impossible to ignore.