Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
The house is still, wrapped in the hush of a late morning after a long night.
But inside me, everything churns. I need time to think without eyes on me. I lace up my running shoes and step into the cold. The winter air slices through me, shocking me fully awake. The cold strips away the noise and the fear.
With every mile, the fog in my head lifts. A plan begins to take shape.
I’ve spent too long shrinking myself. There is no more vacillating between staying or leaving. It’s time to build a life that’s mine and step out of the shadow of my mother’s suicide. It’s time I demand what I deserve. I can be as brave as my daughter and be fearless in what I choose.
I step inside with a long, exacting breath, ready for the truth to come out. Tell Mason I’m done. Let go of my life-raft Wallises. And tell James yes.
Until I look up—and a sharp gasp catches in my throat.
Ivy is straddling James on the sectional. Her hands tangled in his hair, her body flush against his. She devours him with reckless abandon, lips moving over his with desperate hunger.
And he lets her.
He doesn’t push her away; instead, his hands clench the cushions. Her body moves against him, a slow grind, lost in a world where no one else exists.
Except I exist.
I stand there. Watching. Unable to look away.
A low moan escapes Ivy as she shifts against him, deepening the kiss—and something inside me twists so violently I’m shocked to find I’m still standing.
I should move. Say something. Let them know I’m here.
Before I can, the door behind me swings open. Footsteps. Laughter. The sound of my in-laws and the kids returning from their night at the hotel.
Ivy pulls away, grinning when she sees me. She wipes a hand across her lips and straightens her clothes, drawing out the moment and letting it sink into my bones.
James goes rigid. His face, God. The color drains from his skin. His eyes meet mine, and everything about him crumbles. We stand there looking at each other in mutual devastation.
Everything he said. Everything I wanted to say. It’s just gone.
And Ivy. Ivy kisses his cheek. He flinches and steps away. Her smile never falters.
“Ewww, why are you guys kissing like that?” Beck wrinkles his nose while Leo giggles behind his hand.
Gary clears his throat. “Glad to see last night’s party worked its magic.”
Margaret pinches him. Her eyes dart to me and then to Ivy and James.
“Sorry about that,” Ivy chirps. “We got a little… carried away.” And she glides off toward the kitchen like she didn’t set fire to the last thing I believed in.
James meets my eyes once again, stopping next to me, but I look away, and he slams the front door behind him.
My stomach lurches, nausea rising fast. But on the outside, I stay calm. I think about chasing after him and unleashing the pain churning inside.
“Sydney.” Margaret runs her hand down my arm.
I reach for Anna, pulling her into my arms, pressing my face into her curls, inhaling her sweet scent. She babbles something against my shoulder, and I hug her close, willing the tears forming in my eyes not to fall. There is no way I’ll give Ivy the satisfaction of seeing that.
“You guys have a good night? I’m going to get cleaned up. Come on, Bug.” I kick off my sneakers and climb the stairs, holding it together until I reach the empty bedroom. Only then do I set Anna down on the floor and let the pain crash over me.
How could he do this? Did he think I was choosing Mason when I walked away?
I was about to tell him I loved him, that I wanted him to be my family too. I touched him, gave him every indication I was ready.
Was this a game to him?
How could I have been so stupid?
Believed him so completely?
I cannot, will not, throw away everything for a man who whispered he loved me, who said he wanted to be my family, and couldn’t even wait a day before letting Ivy climb into his lap as if it had all been in my head.
It’s as I suspected: I’m not enough. At some point, he’d turn out like everyone else—tiring of me. Leaving me. It shouldn’t surprise me.
I will not let myself break for something that was never mine.
***
The rest of the day drifts by in a haze of hollow conversations, a fake smile glued to my face. I move on autopilot, my walls rebuilt and reinforced, thick as ice over a winter pond.
I maintain it constantly, relentlessly. Ignore every attempt James makes to meet my eyes. Ignore Ivy’s smug parade as she floats around the house, spouting wedding ideas and honeymoon itineraries. Margaret and Jules are unwilling spectators to a horror show they never meant to sign up for.
But I won’t hide and cry. That can wait until I’m alone in D.C. It will not happen while I’m under the same roof as them.
Where’s Mason in all this? I have no idea. And I honestly don’t care.
Keeping my chin high and my gaze distant, I play unaffected.
Jules, though, won’t let it go and drags me to the sunroom. “Syd, will you talk to me?” She pleads, gripping my hands. “Last night, you looked like a woman in love. And now? It’s like you’ve been body-snatched with a robot.”
I say nothing. Because if I speak, the ice will crack.
And if the ice cracks, I fall through. That thin layer is the only thing keeping me upright, keeping me from collapsing into bed with a bottle of wine and sad Taylor Swift on repeat.
Except today I need fuck-you Taylor. A full glitter bodysuit, red lip, and middle finger to the world.
That’s the version of me that can survive right now.
“Whatever happened, talk to him. That’s what people in love do. They show up. They mess up. They talk. You don’t throw it all away over a misunderstanding. Not when it’s real. Not when it matters.”
“Jules, this isn’t one of your romance stories. Some of us live in the real world, where life is full of people who disappoint more often than they show up. And to survive, we don’t run into that pain.”
She watches me closely, waiting for more, but I have nothing left to give. I blink hard, pushing back the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.
“I was clearly mistaken. And honestly? It’s a crush. A stupid, silly crush. It didn’t mean anything.”
A cough from the doorway cuts through the air. It’s him.
My heart stutters against my ribs before I can stop it. I turn away, inhaling slowly, summoning every last shard of anger I have left, bracing myself as my chest heaves, trying to pull in air.
Jules looks at me once more and grabs my hand. “I’ll be right outside. Just talk to him.”
She crosses the room, her footsteps light against the floor, and murmurs something to him that I can’t hear.
He steps inside. The lock clicks, sealing us in to talk free from interruption.
His footsteps are cautious. I keep my eyes locked on the mountains.
Behind me, I feel his heat radiating from a few steps away, close enough to set my skin on edge.
“Sydney, will you please look at me?”
When I don’t respond, when I don’t turn around, he begins talking.
“When you walked away last night, I didn’t know what it meant. Part of me thought that was my answer. I told you I loved you. I wanted to be your family. Then he called out, and you bolted.” His voice cracks at the words.
I swallow hard against the bile in my throat. My worry over Mason finding us. Memories from the deck and his words press into the cracks of my fury.
Maybe it wasn’t as clear as I thought.
Maybe in the dark, he didn’t see the plea in my eyes.
The silent choice I was trying to make.
“Ivy found me sitting in the family room this morning. I was waiting for you… Hoping to run together. Hoping for clarity. Her litany of complaints and questions was endless. Why was I being so distant? Why wouldn’t I talk about the wedding?
Why wouldn’t I touch her? Why wouldn’t I share her bed? She wouldn’t let it go.”
He circles to stand before me, blocking my view of the mountains, forcing me to look at him and see the devastation in every line of his face. He pauses and steadies himself for the part that will wound us both.
“I hate hurting people, especially women. Growing up watching my father’s cruelty, I swore I’d never be the one to inflict pain.
I tend to let relationships dissolve naturally and keep it cordial.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell her we were done so abruptly.
So I was trying to brush off her questions, but also not provoke. ”
I hear the pain behind the admission. How much he carries from his childhood. How lasting that kind of trauma is. I know how deep the effects run.
“Mason walked by. Smug. Gloating. And he said, ‘You know, if you guys are fighting, I’d skip right ahead to the makeup sex part.’ And I fucking snapped. The idea of him touching you. I saw him leading you up the stairs last night…”
James closes his eyes as the memory sears him. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white, before he forces them to unclench and takes a breath.
Tentatively, he reaches out to graze my jaw with his fingertips.
“All I could think was that you chose him. That you wanted him, and I had lost you.” He’s not hiding anything—remorse, love, anguish shadow every feature.
“And when she kissed me, I let it happen because I was jealous. And angry. And I wanted it to be you. You begging me, pleading with me. Needing me as much as I need you.”
His hands cradle my face. “It’s always been you.”
I hear his desperation, but Ivy’s moan rings in my ears. Any hesitation over hanging on to my anger dissipates like mist rising off the mountainside. There one moment, vanished the next.
“That’s a funny way of showing it, shoving your tongue down her throat. I don’t even know what to believe. This week was…” I bite my lip to stop myself. I can’t finish those thoughts. Because if I say it, the ice will crack and I’ll feel everything. “It doesn’t matter, James.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t shut down like this.
Yell at me. Fight me. Show me something.
” His eyes blaze with something beyond sorrow and grief.
They burn, and he wants me to burn right back.
“I know this is messy and complicated. I’m so fucking sorry about this morning.
” A tear slips from the corner of his eye.
“I’m sorry I let my insecurities get the better of me.
I’m sorry I let her kiss me. I love you. Today, tomorrow, always.”
“No, James. I’ve suffered enough disappointment for one lifetime. I can’t take any more. I can’t keep waiting for the next shoe to drop.” I force myself to meet his eyes. Steeling my expression, I will my eyes to match the coldness of my words. “Marry Ivy.”
His face falls, matching the deep, aching sorrow that mirrors my own as if he’s finally accepting that right now there’s no chance I’ll hear what he’s saying.
And I feel my heart, the one I’ve tried to wrap in ice, splitting in two.
We stand there, suspended in a war with no winners.
I know I should listen. Hear what he’s saying. How this morning makes no sense, how it doesn’t match the man I know. But I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my own fear.
The voice that whispers:
You’re not enough.
Love like this always disappears.
Some people deserve love. But you’re not one of them.
“Sydney, please. Don’t pretend this doesn’t matter.” He swallows, brings his hand back to my face, and caresses a rogue tear that escaped before I could blink it back. “I made a mistake. One in this whole fucking mess. And it’s like you’re working so hard to prove I’m not worth the risk.”
The riot inside me is deafening. But I keep my chin high, my breath steady. I won’t let him see how close I am to breaking.
He draws in a slow, pained breath, and with one final glance, he leaves.
The door slides shut, and my knees give out. I sink to the floor, hands trembling as I press them to my face. I suck in breath after breath to keep sobs from escaping.
Am I trying to prove myself right? That he’ll be like everyone else and leave?
Possibly.
Because chasing a love that could destroy me the way it did my mother? That’s not brave. That’s lighting a match and standing in the fire.