Chapter 30
Thirty
The hours stretch on, each tick of the clock another chisel against my already fragile resolve.
By the time Christmas morning arrives, exhaustion has settled deep into my body. I hear Jules’s boys in the hallway, their eager whispers turning into impatient whines: “Is it time yet? Can we go down now?”
They may be almost eleven, but Christmas is still their favorite holiday. And it starts early.
I turn to Anna, curled against me, soft and warm in sleep. “Merry Christmas, Bug.” I kiss her temple and gently rouse her. She blinks up at me sleepily before breaking into a slow, sweet smile, her little arms wrapping around my neck.
Downstairs, the room is alive with the murmur of morning.
Margaret and Vera huddle near the kitchen, sharing soft conversation over a plate of cinnamon rolls.
Tom and Jules try to keep their twins from combusting with excitement.
Gary and Darrell observe it all from the sidelines.
James stands near the counter, coffee in hand, eyes distant as he stares toward the mountains.
“Good morning, Bug,” Margaret greets warmly, kissing Anna’s cheek. “Where’s Mason?”
“Sleeping.” I shrug, setting Anna down. “Said it wasn’t worth getting up since she won’t remember it.”
Margaret’s lips press into a thin line. She hasn’t said anything outright, hasn’t pried, but she sees the cracks. Though she doesn’t ask questions, her silent reproach is unmistakable, but she smiles and lets it go. Again.
Before she can ask something I can’t lie about, I gain some distance as James crosses the room with two mugs in hand.
“Merry Christmas,” he says, passing me one.
Curling my hands around the warm ceramic, I try to keep my face blank so no one sees how much this simple gesture undoes me.
He’s devastating this morning. A forest green sweater clings just enough to hint at the strength beneath. The color sharpens his eyes to something wild and vivid. His hair’s tousled from sleep. And those black sweatpants? Absolutely criminal.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to hide my entirely inappropriate reaction. Especially here, in my in-laws’ living room. But his gaze drops, nostrils flaring as he takes me in.
Jules claps her hands. I stumble back.
“Alright, fam. Coffee’s poured, and presents were delivered. Let’s do this,” she announces.
Wrapping paper flies, laughter rings. Anna, unsure at first, quickly catches on.
She might be two, but the moment she sees her cousins tearing into their gifts, she understands—then she owns it.
She rips open her presents with unrestrained glee, shrieking in delight at every new treasure.
She races over after each gift, pressing them eagerly into my hands, into James’s, demanding our full attention.
“Look, Momma! Look, Unca J!”
And we do. We marvel. We laugh. We admire each toy with exaggerated wonder, our delight matching hers beat for beat. For a little while, nothing exists outside of her joy. We lean into it, pretend it’s the three of us.
If the others notice, they don’t say a word.
Clutching a new book in her small hands, Anna walks straight to James, crawling up beside him.
She hands him the book and leans back against his chest. He stills, looks from her to me, and takes a slow, deep breath, steadying himself to absorb this little gift.
He opens the book and begins to read, bringing to life the tale of a girl and her unicorn.
I tug the collar of my turtleneck up over my mouth, burying my face in the fabric as tears threaten to spill—the sheer perfection of this moment.
When I look up, Ivy is standing at the bottom of the stairs. I catch her wiping a tear along with the worry on her face. In the next breath, she smooths her expression into something bright and polished. In that high sing-song voice she wears like armor, she says, “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
***
Once Anna succumbs to the morning’s excitement and drifts into a nap, I head to the sunroom to gather myself for the night ahead.
But raised voices stop me as I near.
“Ivy, will you wake the fuck up? This is not what getting married should be,” Jules snaps.
“I need to get him to the altar. Once we’re married, everything will be better.”
“Do you hear yourself right now? Who are you? When was the last time you picked up your camera? Went surfing?”
“Don’t start with me. This is what grown-ups do. You get a real job. You meet someone. You get married. You move to the suburbs. He’s a good man. I’d be insane not to marry him.”
“You’re so young. Don’t do this. Don’t settle. You deserve someone who aches when you’re not around, who makes you feel cherished and understood. Loved for being you.”
“I’m not stupid. I know he had a crush on Sydney. Maybe he still does. I mean I get it. She’s beautiful, accomplished, and smart.” Ivy’s voice wavers. “But he’s marrying me.”
“No.” Jules’s firm voice cuts in. “You don’t settle for being someone’s second choice. You deserve to be someone’s first choice.”
“I. Am. His. Only. Choice. She’s not a possibility with a husband and child. I’m the one who’s here.”
"I'm not going to bring this up again, so please hear me.
" Jules pauses, waiting for Ivy look up.
"Marriage is hard. You have to choose each other every day.
What Mom and Dad have? That's not magic.
That's work. Honesty. Respect. Friendship.
And it starts with not ignoring red flags and hoping they'll disappear. "
A crack in Ivy’s voice.
“I need this to happen. It’s all I have.”
Unable to breathe in the suffocating stillness, I take the stairs two at a time, desperate for fresh air.
I know she’s scared. But how can she so blatantly overlook all of this?
I wish I could tell her the truth, revisit that conversation from the deck all those years ago, without being quite so polite.
Tell her what it means to marry someone who looks good on paper, who checks all the boxes but never sees you.
I want to be more than a sister-in-law. I want to be her mirror.
To stop her from making the mistake I’ve lived through.
Whatever I decide about my own marriage, Ivy deserves better than settling for someone who doesn't choose her every day.
Intent on losing myself in the quiet solitude of the woods, I grab my coat. As I reach for gloves, Vera joins me. Her tiny frame is bundled in a warm parka with James’s forest green beanie pulled over the neat chignon she wears. There’s a soft but serious expression on her face.
“Mind if I join you?”
For half a second, hesitation takes hold. Spending time with Vera has been one of the unexpected gifts of this past year; her wisdom and quiet strength have become a sanctuary. She’s become something like a mother to me, though not in the way I once imagined mothers should be.
I used to picture Margaret as Marmee from Little Women—warm, selfless, steady.
But neither Margaret nor Vera is Marmee, because motherhood is never that tidy.
Margaret once gave me a bracelet, my name etched into its delicate curve, a gesture at the time I desperately needed.
But she also looked away when I needed her to see.
Instead of untying the knots, she helped Mason tie them tighter.
Vera has shown me another way. That strength isn’t always in sacrifice. Sometimes it sits beside you in silence, letting the ache pass through without rushing to fix it. Other times, it walks right up and asks for the truth.
And this walk? It won’t be casual. She’s been holding back, but I can feel the shift. See it in her eyes. In the unyielding set of her mouth. She’s not letting me off the hook.
Not this time.
We set off down the snow-covered trail behind the house. Our boots crunch over fresh powder, the woods silent except for the snap of a twig or a lone chickadee’s call. As we walk, our breath forms delicate clouds that dissolve into the bitter air.
I let myself settle into the rhythm of the walk, hoping, maybe foolishly, that she’ll let me hold onto the quiet. She takes a deep breath and asks the question I’ve been bracing for.
“Do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?”
“If I say no, will it matter?”
“You’re right. I’m going to say what I should have said months ago.
” She squeezes my hand firmly enough that I can’t pull away.
“I know my son better than anyone. And if there’s one thing I can say with certainty, it’s that he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.
You might be a stone wall, Sydney—but that man wears his heart on his sleeve. ”
I stay silent, preparing for the words I know are coming.
“Should I tell you how he came to stay with me after last New Year’s? He was suffering and heartbroken, but he refused to talk about it. And yet, there he was. Engaged.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, freezing in the cold air.
“Shall I tell you how often he mentions you, how often he asks about you? It wasn’t until I saw you two together yesterday, until he brought up the festival on our drive from the airport. His face said everything he wouldn’t say out loud. That’s when it clicked.”
I let my tears spill freely. Let her see how deeply she and her son have broken through all my defensive layers.
“My experience with my ex-husband taught me a painful truth: guilt is a heavy burden. Yes, I regret the years I stayed, the moments I should have left. And the way it ended… with James… that’s a scar I’ll carry forever.
But life is about change. We make choices, sometimes the wrong ones, but we don’t have to be chained to them. ”
She brings a gloved hand to my face, gently wiping away tears.
“I understand how much heavier these choices are when you have a child. But choosing your happiness, Sydney, is not selfish. In fact, it’s essential.
You can build the life you want and still be an incredible mother. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
Her green eyes, a soft seafoam color, are filled with a depth that tells me she’s lived all of it. She knows about the murkiness clouding what’s right and wrong.
And maybe that’s the answer.
That we don’t always have to be right; we just need to be willing to feel what’s real.
To live untethered from the illusion that life is easy, that choices are ever simple. That sometimes there isn’t an answer without pain.
We stand in the snow, her words settling in deep.
“Thank you. I… I’m going to keep walking and think about what you said. Go back inside, you’re freezing.” I give her one last squeeze before continuing on my own.
As time and miles stretch on, I let Vera’s words take root. They echo in the stillness, each one a gentle nudge toward the truth I’ve been circling for years. All this time, I’ve been asking the wrong question—fixating on what I might lose if I leave.
But this choice isn’t about loss. It’s about what we’ll gain.
Because what we’ll gain is far greater than what we have now.
Anna’s life will be filled with joy, with the kind of steady love James brings by being himself.
He won’t be a wound she has to learn to live around.
He won’t disappear or disappoint. He’ll show up, again and again, with laughter and stories and arms always open.
Anna has always recognized that in him. Loving him without apology, choosing him. It’s been me holding us back.
She’ll grow up knowing she’s loved, even if I’m not always there. Because in our home, love won’t be questioned or withheld.
She might be away from me at times.
But she’ll know I’ll always be ready to welcome her back.
I reach a frozen pond and study my reflection. The woman with bright cheeks and clarity in her eyes staring back isn’t the same woman who spent years shrinking herself, folding into shapes to meet the expectations of others. This isn’t the woman who’s buried her desires.
No. She’s done with all of that.
And there’s no going back.